Cycles
Beyond my vision lies a misty pathway Unlike any dream I've ever been in before. Mystic toadstool steps call me away To view through new eyes that have never seen. Away through dark passages of misgivings Past years of bitter seasons, Signs and sorrows mark the miles frozen in rhyme And end finally clouded by tears. Shadowy gates shut not far behind Rust encrusted locks click closed. Planning for freedom, and narrowly escaping My course is now set by the stars. Mirrored imaginings, fantasy in flames, Ruby-throated rivers course through my veins. Creature of feeling, like clockwork divine, My trail of crumbs fall mingled with lies. The night captures back the moment and unfolds me inside this vision of silver cycles, that flows gently like the tide.
Your Voice
The Egret Forsooth, the glue'ed egret sings, and ponders yon chunk of earwax, stuck beneath its' wings. A lamentable position, his feathered strength to tax; a sticky situation, no time for turning lax. This swampy human relic, once extracted with a smile, now grips posed egret perched, awaiting crocodile
Label me with whatever truth demands
hear this voice which cries to be heard
Caste me with a noble colored vision
expanding the limits of the conditional word
Life's hum is apparent in sonorus rhythm
soft music which strokes listening ears
Love's hug is offered in fervent embraces
which stain happy faces with glistening tears
Wide open curtains let sunrays in shining shafts strike
fresh eastern beams awaken the dawning day
Rousing the singing songs of sun-stricken birds
mingled with angel-mouthed voices, open to say
"Even brighter dawns yet await
to greet the newborn's opened eyes
and will bear fresh fruits of new mornings
gracing newlit days of wonderous surprise."
1997
The Meadows Lament
To be spoken:
- - - - - -
To be sung:
To be sung:
Soft fields expression,
they teach the lesson
of love, life, and happiness
And the mountains have seen,
times inbetween,
those of sorrow and loneliness.
But those mountains are old,
and care no more,
for the beauty and love
the fields store.
Alone frozen stones
have left warmer places
and bear shadows from their peaks
upon the field's flowered faces
- - - - - -
Sheltered amid cold rocky roots
the meadows bloom
and follow their seasons
Green grassy swards wind
across thirsty lower hills
quenched by mountain waterfalls and spills
Looking upwards the flowers see
blue sky and grey rain cloud
and past the sun-blocking rocks
which glower over, grim and proud
Lofty peaks and precipice
are beaten down and jutted higher
painless victims of ancient time
barren of life, giving no sire
Soft fields expression,
they teach the rhythm
of life and loveliness
And the mountains have been,
caught in between
times of hopelessness
But the mountains are old,
and care no more,
for the beauty and love
the fields store.
"For the coldness of rock,"
so the flowers talk,
"is soon forgotten
and desired no more."
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