Yet my mind reaches out in thick webs of ceaseless thought
Pondering its tomb of bone and rotted flesh
Eyes that once saw the golden rays and red painted sky
Now see only images æthereal in black
Shades of the past
And the faint ghosts of a future set in myst
Yet the present goes by unseen to me
So it is
Deaths hold is but a weak curse upon me
Yet without breath
My voice is heard
A timeless chiming
Echoes of an empty hall
Awaken the daemons
Consult the daimon
Let the angels speak
Words unheard
To those yet willing to hear
Know that this is but a ripple upon the coming wave
A tsunami drapped in fire
Even as the masquerade plays out
The prophecy unfolding
Charade or riddle
Has been written by greater seer and sage
Upon yellowed scroll
Repent in acceptance of the truth
Now
Or upon bent knee
Tag: poetry
The Fear Before the Fall
Memories fade to dust
Another day has come and gone
Yet time stands still unmoving
Shadows tracing intangible lines
Lose their meaning at the door
An invisible breath fills the void
Where once your presence sustained
Now only silent apparitions stalk
Marking existence with a vacant gaze
A Moment of Crazy #8
Another World of Pure Imagination
Hold your breath…
Make a wish…
Count to three…
So says Willy Wonka
……
In my dreams
All the things
I dream for you
They come true
If only in my
Imagination
If you cry
Sob or sigh
And form tears
In your eyes
It brings me down
And brings me round
From off my distant cloud
Floating high
On a rosy river
Beneath a rose filled sky
So
Come with me
You will see
There is really nothing there
That could
Harm you
It’s just a wonderful world
Here in make believe
A wonderful world to live in
If only you
Could open wide
And reach inside
I know you
You really want to
See a new world
Beginning
Take my hand
But don’t be afraid
To let go
No more fears
Lurking in the corners
Everything
Living here
Is alive
Right there
Inside you
When life is a zoo
Fling open the cage
Wander free
Join me
And you’ll see
Dear
Yes you’ll see
Clear
It’s just a wonderful world
Here in make believe
It’s such a wonderful world
To live in
If only you could
Reach inside
You would see that
And I know
You want to see
A wonderful world
Again
The Garden of Our Youth
Where have the flowers of spring gone?
Those were the days of our youth.
Spent in the hope of something better. Only to be wasted by those who did not understand their value.
Memorials On Tracing Paper
Short words on a long day
Doors closed on faded memories
Listened to quiet hello’s
Silent good-byes
Young children and older siblings
Watched the wind blow through the spring leaves
Yellow daffodils visited by the honey bee
Remembered young faces to be put with old bodies
Cried because that’s the thing to do
Along the Garden Path
The Whistling Wind
Through the cracks
I feel the colds
Soft silk touch
Slow to draw
The warmth from off
My flesh
Outside
I hear it call
Telling me to hurry
There
Come see what has
Been done
I’m no fool
I see
Through those
Same old cracks
How the withered grass
Roughly bent
Blows
I see the hard clasped oak
Leaf
Trembling there
Like clothes
On the line
Even the snow white
Clouds
Begin to blush
Pink
As the setting sun
Bleaches hard
Across a barren
Sidewalk
I know
And I will not
Go
For only the brighter
Shades
And pastels of
Spring to come
Will pull me out
From this warm
House
