Will you linger with me when July graces
the spring- dew of my breath
hailing the glow of spring's flowering?
How about the end of summer wind gliding
on ember of hope burned
by the heat of season's nights?
And come bitter November,
would your hands cuddle mine
in withered age when flakes wheeze
of a hundred vague symphonies ...
except for unsolicited embraces
ready to enfold you when
winter candles wax the torpid kiln of infallibility--
If so then lead me on, on...
while autumn spirals through
pensive intervals more frequent
than the drift of upturned leaves in a space
of unknowing-- how much more
can the eternity of seasons etch
the piercing trance of time's flames
courting moonlight's evanescence
where forever is but destiny's kismet, not ours ?
Tell me about ever after...my seasons
are hungry again.
Like upturned earth on haunted eves for which the beasts replete do seeth toward crisp remoteness the zepher stone burgeons and clasps those boney hands and ushers toward us. Indeed, the fallow are now spent, they rent those waters for healthier hands, but pure and brilliant are not synonymous with a hot-to-trot village filled to the top.
When marquee of eve glints on a skyline,
I gaze at jewelled stars naturally blinking--
that the world heaves with content
open to eve's charm undefined by time...
And within this space I become a listener
of winds tickling trees,
a watcher of colors bleeding the ground ;
one runner chasing leaves
on upturned sways ,
knowing that my world's best pleasure
is gratitude, a rune filtering through
inner being that opens the moon right up,
And my world spills into a hundred portraits
borne from an unrelenting joy
which the race for hollow gold or rank
cannot eclipse...
allowing the self immeasurable joy
on the breath of each new day!
To drift amongst the clouds above,
To meet the travelers passing by in love,
Speaking of choices, paths to pursue,
And all the wonders waiting to be true.
Rushing back to earth they'll fly,
Many friends will go rushing by,
Leaving their mark so profound,
Hailstones come crashing all around.
Drifting down, so slowly goes,
Calmly as the current flows,
To rest upon a child’s upturned nose,
So light it slips, then softly goes.
Renewing rivers rushing through,
Dipping into oceans oh so blue,
Creating music upon arid land,
Flooding waters taking command.
All rushing turning the day to night,
Thunder calling all to join the fight,
Lightning piercing right down to the ground,
Storms gather with so much sound.
I drifted on, imagining the fall—
A single raindrop, dreaming through it all.
Thin veil of raindrops,
splattering.
Liquefied pellets
falling to the ground.
Welcomed into the parched land
with open arms.
Raindrops dripping down from
eaves and rooftops above,
tap-dancing in the puddles,
waltzing on the corrugated metal roofs.
Sliding on the smooth green leaves
falling gracefully; like little ballerinas.
Bringing the color back
to the wan faces of the
drooping plants.
Giving the earth
a new coat of paint,
warm, vibrant colors surfacing.
Faces upturned,
tongues out-stretched.
Little children out to play in the rain.
Splashing in puddles,
setting little paper sailboats
off on expeditions to distant lands.
Farmers smiling
watching the rain
bring life back to their crops.
Relief etched on their faces,
they'll survive another year.
the fields are alive again.
Rain.
Hope from the heavens
falling gently onto the earth,
fueling our hopes and dreams;
watering our deadened hearts,
answering our prayers.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter
hope rains down.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter
I saw a wild daisy, and it made me think of you.
Standing tall and strong, out of rocky soil it grew.
A sadness crept over me like none I ever knew.
I missed the nearness of you.
Your smile, our chats, holding your hand.
When I saw that flower defiantly stand,
sunny face upturned towards the sky
I am reminded that death is not goodbye;
perhaps this is you come to say hi.
(“Cheek to Cheek”, 2024, original encaustic)
My first memory of my mother
Is of being unloved.
Since then I’ve had three wives
But I don’t think any of them really loved me either
I say that because they all left me,
Or at least tried to once with my current one.
It makes me think I’m unloved
Simply because I don’t know how to,
But somehow that doesn’t sit quite right
Or ring true.
For I know what it is to love;
My mother, my father
Those three wives, and my three daughters,
Not to mention all the dogs
And a few of the cats along the way.
It makes me think maybe we are all challenged
When it comes to loving.
Maybe not the dogs, but certainly the humans.
And maybe this is because we think we have a choice
When love is really something
That simply happens to us and for us
Like a blessing, like grace
Like Sun melting into our upturned face
The touch of something warm and soft
In gentle cheek to cheek embrace.
Sometimes I think I am unloved, unloving,
Maybe unlovable
But then I remember the feeling…
(5/17/26)
“Key”
Thirty pieces of silver.
That ancient story of betrayal
sits shining next to thee,
It flips poetic meaning supernaturally.
We wonder how We came
to this Synchronicity.
The upturned face,
a legacy.
Seeking answers
listening to silence, unanswered.
The questions evade.
The mind lifts,
the sharp point drops its messages
into the grooves of other dimensions played out
like a child’s game where we wave in lyrics,
where the music silver lines the terra firma roads
along the landscape of Life’s turntable.
Inside you something turns, burning
a flame inside a Memory
presents a key.
Candide Diderot. ‘26
“In the sharp gust of love
My memory stirred
When time wreathed a rose
A garland of shame
Its thorn my only delight
War torn, afraid to speak
We dare to breathe
Majestic
Imperial
A bridge of sighs
Solitude sails
In a wave of forgiveness
On angels' wings…”
(Siouxsie & The Banshees)
Matthew 26 NIV
“Spring drew on...and a greenness grew over those brown beds,
which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed
them at night and left each morning brighter traces of her steps.”
~ Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
I feel the caress of Spring's gentle breeze
wafting through meadows and verdant hills
and swaying branches of budding maple trees
Spring welcomes rain as each drop softly spills
dampening the cheeks of my upturned face
until the sun's warmth relieves me of my chills
It's the season that I so lovingly embrace
when flowers grow in vast, colorful profusion
lovelier in a garden than in a vase
Lavender scents the air with sweet infusion
To God and Nature, I bestow gratitude
for the beauty found in their collusion
Spring arrives offering hope renewed
and fresh beginnings are redolently imbued
I drilled a hole in the bottom of the nest
of the goose that laid the golden egg,
and today, in sorrow, I have confessed,
as, your mercy, dear Lord, I humbly beg.
The egg, from the nest, through the hole, it rolled,
and fell upon my wretched, upturned head.
and, now, my Lord so dear, I ask a thousand-fold,
don't leave me 'neith this goose house dead.
Nature in a Mischievous Mood
Early Sunday morning;
nature rattling at the front door!
I accept its clamorous invitation
stepping out with nothing more
in tow than an upturned collar..
and a theatrical imagination.
The morning ground is well-baked pastry,
all crusted with a shiver of winter;
sunlight whispering across the ground
all sharp colour and playfulness.
So I step out, church bells skipping alongside
and light skating off in front of me.
Soon I am within reach of the beach;
my sandy sanctuary,
but nature is in a mischievous mood
the light fluctuating,
its moods shifting,
gloss turning to flat matt.
The sea offers up a cold, blue arm
encouraging me into watery depths
while the sky sits heavily
in a grey leather-weathered armchair.
Behind, peeking through a curtain of cloud
a new season waits to spring into action.
Ian Souter
I write
you into
my upturned world,
gift you wings and transformation,
strewing pixie dust through silenced skies,
aching to see you sparkle and soar,
like an eagle-winged fairy
metamorphosed
into the highest ether,
where peace is more
than a poetic phrase,
and love ~
baptized by the blues of butterfly ink,
no longer a prisoner of pain ~
caged by chaos,
as the world never knew
the burden buried beneath
your blissful smile, and lyrical laughter…..
Tonight
I miss you,
when the haze above untouched seas
bleeds nothingness,
I remember us,
when the music of grieving night
fills my life
in captivating cadence,
and I will forever
write to the swirling stars
to sigh our serene song
when the telepathic moon wanes in weariness,
for even the sky knows
we are more than
just a memoir
pressed between
purple pages of
perfumed
truth…
We charge our glasses with endearment—
all agreeing that this matters
to bear witness, all sharing
our loss in reflection,
a celebration
charge your glasses,
clinks all round
drink deep
ends-
up
cheers
with emptied cups
upturned and glinting skywards
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I reached into the river of my mind,
palm upturned like a beggar,
and pulled out~
not a coin, but a rusted key
that fit no lock I owned.
What was I thinking?
Perhaps the same thought
that turns a moth to flame~
not light, but burning.
The arithmetic of longing
always carries forward a remainder.
What was I thinking?
Maybe it was the way the train
whispered destinations
I’d never reach,
or how the moon, that night,
hung like an unpaid bill.
What was I thinking?
The answer curled at the edges,
a photograph left in rain~
half desire, half shadow,
all of it dissolving
into the ink of hindsight.
Give me a place where I can hide
No drones, no bombs, no genocide
No blood, no tears, no pain, no death,
A place serene, a place of wealth
A place of sweet prosperity
Where fear and grief are history
A place of comfort and delight
Where terror doesn't stalk the night
Give me a place where freedom reigns
Where pristine clothes have no blood stains
Give me a place that feels like home
Where I no longer have to roam
Give me a place above the ground
Where flowers circle all around
Give me a place that cradles me
A place of deep tranquility
Before I die and leave this place
Let sunlight kiss my upturned face
Let stars at night sing lullabies
Before I have to close my eyes
Give me a place that welcomes me
Oh, God Almighty, hear my plea
Give me a place that soothes my heart
Before my dreams all fall apart.
Give me, give me a place!
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