One voice against the universe
one sigh against the sun
my words are but a breath
who am I, that I should speak?
Life is an imperfect gift
wrapped with broken bows
the hopeful eyes of a child
the ragged tears of the aged
did I live my life well?
My youthful dreams of love
were strong and sure
flowed hot, like lava
now tempered by time
against the mounting days
that rush towards the grave
did I love well?
And what of others
along the way
each one, invaluable people
was I kind, did I care
was I there in times of need?
God only knows
the beginning from the end
of my tangled tapestry
which will someday
be rewoven by Him
and He will have the answers.
Categories:
rewoven, analogy, life,
Form: Free verse
Dreams carry me across
a mysterious land
Where the voice of my fathers
so gently commands
It echoes quite softly
in words only sung
A joyous recital,
rewoven and spun
I never can stay there,
I’ve begged till I weep
And with barely a whisper,
I’m roused from my sleep
But when darkness befalls
on my world once again
A new dream will come calling
—to guide me within
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2016)
The Torch
Not cute or in genre,
in tune or in tone
A message drives forward,
the muse casting stones
Untimely, eternal,
her voice speaking fast
My pen now a torch
—the darkness is past
(Barnes & Noble-Plymouth Meeting Pa: January, 2016)
Categories:
rewoven, dream, father, voice,
Form: Rhyme
Dreams carry me across
a mysterious land
Where the voice of my fathers
so gently commands
It echoes now softly,
in words only sung
A joyous recital,
rewoven and spun
I never can stay there,
I’ve begged till I weep
And with barely a whisper,
I’m roused from my sleep
But when darkness befalls
on my world once again
A new dream will come calling
—to guide me within
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2016)
Categories:
rewoven, dream,
Form: Rhyme
Magic evaporates with comprehension
yet mystery and majesty and myth
deepen and widen with understanding
how where we came from
is also why we return.
Pathology and suffering diffuse with ego's eco-consciousness
and miracles erupt through standing under
where Earth's now time comes forth
imagining our healthiest echoing habitat returns.
Magic transubstantiates patriarchal fake articulations.
Historic
yet mythic
mysteries
mesmerize
matriarchal comprehensions.
Regenerating sacred loves
decompose well-wombed happiest lives
rewoven.
New ecopolitical regenerations
reborn through transuterine eliminations.
Born into light
to bright
for sight
then night
invites Spring Lights
for Summer's nutritional diastatic Bright
of Harvest Healthy Sight,
retiring Winter's long cold Nights
of dream-wombed comprehension,
mourning for morning springs of breezy
warm
moist
Light reborn again.
Magic absorbs patriarchal fascinations
yet sacred Earth's misty myths eliminate
lack of ego's eco-comprehensions,
absence of magically
pricked
pretensions.
Categories:
rewoven, health, humanity, humor, love,
Form: Free verse