On this Winter day

The snow that falls
Lays down its beauty at my feet
Hiding imperfections beneath a frozen cloak
Giving silence to any city scene
Innocence to the tormenting storm
And still the rain do I notice more
With the chilling damp that wets the soul
Leaving colors blurred to gray
Like troubled thoughts on a furrowed brow
Errant drops go rolling down
Pooling into panes of glass
Reflecting back the world above

Empty Glasses

Before my days grew cold
Naked and unafraid
I walked the wilderness
bare
The coarse earth bore my presence
Silent footfalls beneath the endless sky of blue
Golden light filtered through green seas of leaf
Undulating waves back and forth moved with the soft breath of God
Floating feathered squadrons in an endless circle
Farther each moment
High above

The sharpest blade tarnish and dull without the touch of decay
The strongest bull and fastest horse stumble upon the rock
Youthful vigor drains away evaporated with disuse
In old age wisdom flounders where truth has lost its worth

I am forgotten upon those places where once I traced my name
No sacred tree carries remembrance of me
All time worn stone and fire scarred wood have long dissolved with bone
And yet I hunger for tomorrow
Though I never see the day

Sound

Reverberation
A high pitch mixing at the upper spectrum of a ringing chime
Sharp tones of metal on metal cutting away through bone and brain
Screams of pain changing over into images of lightening bolts and razor thin daggers
My eyes turn to liquidized jelly
They melt under the constant agony of pulses spuming forth from now empty sockets
The only escape is being walled into a casket six feet down insulated by the solid earth
Until the volume of gnashing and gnawing grows
Louder than before a chorus of beetles and worm devour flesh
In this one last sanctuary of hell the spirit unable to find release from the torment succumbs

A Frozen Field in Winter

The day is cold
The golden sun but a white disc filtering through the dark gray sky
Frozen in time a spider’s web draped in jewels shimmers softly in the wintry wind
Blackbirds flocking land in barren fields
Gathering in waves they rise and fall moving with small leaps and bounds

Hoarfrost grows where the flowering weeds once flourished marking the boundaries between what is yours and what is mine
Drawn by memories to this vacant place

I wander lost in thought while time takes flight in the silence

In the lands Umber

The oddity of life. It’s razor thin slivers slicing across shallow veins of truth. Passions play out upon the same nerves that transfer pain. Rocked with pleasure not meant to be enjoyed. Then just as dilated eyes gain their focus the fire light dims and the last vibrant tone fades into inexistence.

She’s yellow ocher to me. In words muttered beneath audible sound I often express dislike for her. Preference usually given to the pristine colors of ebony and titanium white. Crisp lines shape the image. Tethering reality with math and logic. Rarely do any of us separate from the uniformity of their use.

Unmistakable. She is yellow ocher, and that is what makes her beautiful to me.

I can never let her know.

At the Beginning of Each New Day

Along the waters edge where sand and ocean meet
The worlds first words are spoken
By the soft and whispering breeze

It speaks of the many kingdoms
and of ageless palaces carved of stone
All the chambers filled with musical laughter far below in the surging sea
The echoing ripples flowing
Splashing playfully upon the distant shores above

Alas the people of the land no longer remember the beauty
Nor can they walk the halls
Time since it has passed deep beneath a sea foam gray

Softly the wind summons back the memory
As the crabs solemnly standing guard lament
And flying high overhead seabirds call out a sullen praise

There at the waters edge where sand and ocean meet

A Drifting Breeze

Leaves fall spiraling dance
Drift alone but in a breeze of chance
Countless colors of yellow and gold
Even the darkest browns becoming bold
The garden rustling with the wonder of where spring fled
Aster and mum sharing their purple and red

Naked and alone in a world grown cold

Where has the buttercup, the iris, and violet gone
Beneath a blanket of earth to sleep as the nights grow long

Dreams of the Liche

I have been here before in lifeā€¦ a forgotten martyr of a desperate time. Now I lay concealed beneath these layers of dead skin, mummified cartilage and muscle.
The life giving waters have long ago fled back to the sea.
Left alone my corpse’s slow decay releases back my last breaths of air. Returning what little good it once kept trapped within.
Somewhere solemn words stand forgotten carved deep in weathered stone. “The Last”.
Birth shown without beginning. Death left unchiseled. Such a precious thing as life left blank.
Was it for convenience or from lack of concern.
The curious may one day find this bolt hole where I sit enthroned. Disturbing my promised eternities, foolishly attempting to pry from dead lips secrets of forgotten times.

Agelessly, lidless eyes watch for the coming day. Stiff bones growing impatient of the wait.
Silently I listen to the world just beyond wooden walls and marble stone. Remembered sounds echoing out inside the powdered dust that once was brain.
The constant intrusion of spider and moth from clay stained crevices. Pillows and tapestry they weave for me. Adorning my once vibrant pastels in a virgin bower of silken whites.
Dressed in such royalty all my court gather near.
The maddening chirp of the camel crickets add to the music of my ballroom. Beneath the chandeliers of glowworms the seething hoard claw away the grime leaving traced lines as forgotten mosaics.

Still I wait for you my love. Promises made in youth still bind. In death they hold more honest truth. In sickness an in health, for richer and for poor, let none separate what here has been joined, even upon death one should depart. In unity, what once was two, now man and woman be made whole.

A Summer Day

There is beauty in the dance of the butterfly

An image in contrast to the blue of the sky

Her yellow wings beating out rythm to nature’s song

A peaceful presence helping to move time along

And magically blending the colors to green below

With a pleasant smile I say to her a quick hello

Her time more important than you or I

It does not matter when she makes to me no reply