Short Enrapt Poems

Snow invades the winter wood,
Showing where the rabbit stood,
Telling where the deer has passed,
And where I am, heldfast
By nature's visage so enrapt,
In nature's arms entrapped....

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So far away 
(from me now)
But near my heart

So long ago 
(almost seeming just) 
Sketched enrapt memories 

There by a young mans adventure
(memories distilled to affection)
Still there now an older mans dreams...

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Darkness and light
capture the morn
capture a mood
capture a grown-up world
that sees in black or white,
cut and dried, up or down
needing to slow and find
the calm of gray,
the peace in average,
the quiet of second place
enrapt to recapture
the reverence
of a child....

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I love the strings of violins,
Cool tunes vibrating,
Slippery and smooth.

I've soaked within long-winded horns,
Melodies haunting,
Languid and luring.

I'm lifted up in dulcet flutes,
Blithe rhythms flirting,
Airy and ambulent.

I'm enrapt in vibes of organs,
Echos oscillating,
Intricately interlaced....

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Alone, she sat quite still,
her gaze full fixed ahead.
Enrapt by visions fed,
scarce breathing e’er she will
disturb perceptions’ fill; quiescent as tho’ dead.

Into the room he crept,
his probing arm around
her body, no more bound,
so quickly was she swept.
As fingers so adept, respiring without sound.

Too soon was reached his goal;
TV remote control....

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Upon nightfall descends my regret
Enrapt in the embrace of darkness
Where tomorrow has no meaning
And the voices of yesterday lay silent
That sweet muse once beckoning to me
Like a candle on the windowpane
Slowly burning away the memory
Ever dimming within times cycle
So while the stars leisurely sweep
Across repentances indifferent skies
Again this night my lover sleeps
Beneath the cold sepulcher stones...

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The blind fiddler plays
enrapt in his tune;

His wife sits
warm in the melody
of a strange hearth;

Their baby child
does not cry;
hunger is a constant song;

The eldest son stands
gripped by the fire's 
lyric of security ~

After bread and coin is received
the vagabond family moves on.


Art: The Blind Fiddler, nsteel engraving by John Burnett, 1806, 
after the painting by Sir David Wilke...

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I watched a lone frill -
flitter 'neath a crescent moon.
  A chasse quite brief;
  a waltz concluding too soon.

Dusk's nocturnal breath
whirls a foliferous heart.
  A ron de jame leap
  reinvents classical art.

The plume flits and floats
beyond a stilled rivulet - 
  one rebel osprey
  escaping Swan Lake's ballet.

Tchaikovsky's cygni 
are enchanted and enrapt;
  as a chaste quill sleeps
  'pon the brim of vesper's cap....

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in the light of day
Ventured in the light of day
Flowered meadows in still lit beauty 
Shrink away our torrent rains

Lived as in its starting
Its fate within life’s closing
With ourselves and all around us
Light within its dark without

Force compelled for us to see
Enrapt amazed 
To look around the world as is

As seed to air one seeks to find
All that to which it binds
Not to late but all to soon 
To meet with joys again...

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