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Showing posts from 2012

Me?

Am I a soul eternally sad? God of tears, maker of blue? Did the universe rain and flood with disdain? Leave me stained, water-colored in shame? Do my tears cascade into the desert part of my heart, only to lose their vision and dry up? Am I the weakest branch of a lifeless tree? An ungrown seed, a mud-stuck leaf? Is the mirror truthful, is this what I see? Is the sullen man staring back really me? (From the book Kairos )

The Bleak Hour

The bleak hour when uninvited shadows gather over one to pick up the fallen hand that lay still. Two worlds touching— One ends, another            is            begun. Too late if anything left un- done. The bleak hour: When will it be that the shadows, cast off the divine light, gather over me?     (From the book Kairos )    

the End

Charcoal spines burning, men dethroned of valor, a raven-dropping thunderstorm. Mold on fruit, decay on bones— lifeless life. Pale sunlight, tired universe, hope stuck in quicksand. Humanity scorned by God: disappointed Father. Now, as we prepare to be forgotten, dressing formal for the End will be unnecessary. (From the book Kairos )

Swimming Towards the Surface

Falling-away darkness—a curtain screaming with silence, pulled off a globe where thoughts are blind fish swimming inside light. Across the finish line: a revelation: rain is creek, is river, is ocean, is rain. Gone is the concrete mask, chipped away with keys that would fit: The hurricane’s eye sees the sun. The window of tomorrow is open. These invisible gifts are wrapped in experience. Denial like dust kicked up and blown away by integrity—and finally, too: in these stone eyes is a beating heart. I could swim out of that subterranean light. I could walk on land. (From the book Kairos )

A Poem to My Dead Love

My tears have filled my hands for centuries and for centuries more, I’ve cried. A broom of misfortune swept you away and there hasn’t been a day I haven’t missed you. The time between sunrise and sunset is a region of despair, and my nights are wretched with the silence of a dream; a dream which dreams me alone. I once was a man of polished marble, strongest simply because you loved me. Fortune had been my blessing, and you my bloom— the world then was an answered question. But my god, how quickly the puzzle drops and splits apart, a million pieces lost in earth and time; how in the blink of an eye my eyes could matter no more; how I’ve longed for more of death and less of life, just to be closer to you, my love. From the book Kairos (print version only)

Damsel Fly!

Her toes splash water in thoughtful harmony sitting by her childhood creek. She sails soft kisses to the ports of her wishes and lets the wind sweep and carry them away. Time holds her reflection in drops of mourning dew and the willows, in their weeping, retract branches from the breeze. A toss of red petals from the cup of silver hands float down her childhood creek. She sends last kisses to the magic of her wishes and lets damselflies sweep and carry them away. Grace shuts its bloom over a wealth of summer days and the flowers, in their tribute, have gotten brighter in the sun. From the book Kairos (print version only)

Dryad Weeping on a Fallen Tree

Sitting under the spell of living oaks, dryad sits on a tree fallen and dead. Through the canopy falls the sun’s gold; empathetic warmth and just so bright. She is dressed in a splendid mourning gown, sewn with chlorophyll and splendors’ fingers. Her large green eyes are crystal-like; scenes of a tree’s life play within. Mist rises like fairy soldiers’ ghosts beneath her dainty and barefooted feet. Tears merge into silent waterfalls and her heart beats low like owl wings. A rustling puts a crack in the silence and dryad looks down at the petite sound: Leaves covered a seed, covered a growing tree; nature is cycles, is fairy spuds to winter snow. And young tree sprouts where mother spring and father sun foster new life. Such lessons come to each dryad in youth; they have come to her in this ephemeral light. A nearby butterfly takes to air, its dazzle and frailty the wink of beauty’s eye. With compassion it alights upon dryad’s shoul

A Tree

A tree is a treasure burst forth into the sky; a fissured relic covered in emeralds that change with the voice of equinox. A tree is a benevolent caretaker for the wild; a framework of weathered arms holding nests, refuge, and insect treats. A tree is a teacher of patience and endurance; a primeval soul bearing the fruit and labor of the illusion we call Time. A tree is our third parent of unconditional love; a haven of cool shade and wonderment beneath a sentry of leaves. (From the books Kairos  and  HEARTVINES )

Her Day

She knelt down by the creek cupped her hands and began to drink the fish gave her a wink and she began to think: Oh lover, off running from the sun let me be your reason again your reason to hold a hand let me show you the strength of a friend. And she stayed for many hours of the day collecting flowers and giving tears away all the while mother nature would say Your heart needs soothing, my dear This is the only way! So she pulled away those burrs of denial tossed them aside, rank and file inhaled the breath of life all the while and soon her heart began to smile. Then with rejoice she thanked the fish danced around butterflies, blew them a kiss felt her heart had gotten its wish and picked a mushroom to make a dish. Sunset came and soon it was twilight so she hurried on home like a wren in flight thinking to find her lover that night hoping that he just might… And whether it was feather or song flower or fragrance the earth or its sky she doe

Kiss Me Hello

Send me up, to the clouds; bring me there, hold me there, tell me not to go. Keep me, if you love me—kiss me hello. If, upon her wandering, she befell upon such a sight as the burning of pale blue stars over the soft skin of twilight; And fancied sleep, at meadow’s edge, of proud and myriad flower, where quetzals dazzled forth in displays of regal, enchanted power— Would she . . . If, within her dreaming, she inhaled magic and exhaled strife, where a celestial voice whispered hope of a loving, happy life; And saw many wonders cascading softly in ballet, while stardust and moonbeams entered her soul to play— Would she . . . And if, upon her awakening, standing near her grassy cheek, was a fawn drinking quietly from a silver-pebbled creek; With sonnets coming ashore as fish bubbled the words, while a new life walked towards her from beneath a rainbow of birds— Would she still wan

Trees Outstanding

Each day, life plants seeds, waters them alive with souls; flowers bloom like love, love wilts like flowers. Each day, the sun does its best, earth keeps intact, keeps spinning on track; the cycles turn, we continue to yearn, we grow towards the maker: We, with our winds never landing. We, with our branches ever-expanding. We, the trees outstanding. From the book Kairos (print version only)

Spring

When storms unleash a thunderous might across the urban scenes of busy life and our neighbor cleans his grill; when warblers pass and the air smells like grass I know it is spring again. When leaves shine healthy green across woodlands where robins sing and the flowers return to glory; when the sun warms our cheeks and the chipmunk peeks I know it is spring again. When lovers create sparks across blooming city parks  and we run through fields simply to run; when bitter cold has gone away and warm days resume our play I know it is spring again:      And all of nature rubs its eyes,      stretching an eager frame. (From the book Kairos )

Walking Into Yesterday, Tonight

December air, cold sky alight with flickering stars. I’ve gained this night, at least a bit of its glory, by sharing it with no one but myself. So I wander, as I wonder, Where am I this night? And I begin to weep, like an orphan growing old. When a man’s days seem irrelevant and uncollected, it’s like a stale dream, a lifeless story. But then I think, Maybe I’m missing the point . There’s always a reason for things—maybe, anyway. Anyway, why question it. December air, cold sky alight with shooting stars. I’ve made a few wishes, I’ll be the first to admit, and I’ll share them with everyone but myself. From the book Kairos (print version only)

Imperfection

Tonight, wanton moonlight. Stars cold and listless. Angels take human form to vent their sorrows— Imperfection. Stillness, bowed head of a goddess. Gold sobriety stained with sour wine. Sugar-coated flawlessness now full of cavities— Imperfection. Fervent dreams trapped in a subconscious box. Shiny green lizards dancing on clouds full of rain: Imperfection rears its beautiful, exotic head— and we are all sublime again. (From the book Kairos )

Below Zero

A dimness has poured over the bright of her day, where dirty light tightens around the body, squeezing bitter truth from lemon-flavored karma. An infant’s voice bounces and plays inside her head, where love is a pale, frozen rainbow; shining just faintly above an empty playground. The choice came with the crystal air of a cruel winter. The day was cold—unforgivably cold—but heat danced through it. No one would come close to understanding this. Now, she is rigid; severely pensive beneath falling white. Acrobatic thoughts dissolve within her stillness as winter coils around her, ready to strike: And in the icy wind, a baby cries. Tiny footprints in the snow fade away. Where once was a life is now empty space— empty space with a fading lullaby. (From the book  Kairos )

Since You Went Away

Since you went away, I’ve been exploding all through my body. I’m a catastrophe. Since you went away, I’ve only got the world to blame. Isn’t it a shame? It’s such a shame. Since you went away, life is dizzy and earth is spinning. Electricity fills my alcohol, but it never jolts me happy. Since you went away, I’ve been bitter and complex. A mind drifting through space unable to face its artistry. Since you went away, I have lost me. (From the book Kairos )

(I sometimes watch)

(I sometimes watch) I think about her every day of my life, although I haven't seen her in almost a year. Everything around me has become a shade less light; the sky, its stars, even my vision of heaven burns less bright. (people in love) I still have her picture. Sometimes it stays too long in my hands, and "too long" means when tears come. I don't need to torture myself like this anymore, but for some reason, I still do. (it reminds me) I'm still waiting for that day when I'm drinking coffee at the kitchen table, and she walks right through the front door like she'd only been gone to borrow sugar. (of a time) From the book Kairos (print version only)  

subtlety

Eyes, her eyes and green, like meadows green. To see those eyes… I’ve seen. Lips, her lips and red, like wine stains red. To kiss those lips… in bed. To know this woman— To be her man— To live my life— To have this dream— Skin, soft skin and white, like satin sheets pulled tight. To hold her with love… by candlelight. Perfume, her perfume and breeze, like wind through summer trees. To inhale her being… I truly breathe. To taste her colors— To adore her scents— To know such beauty… it’s all a gift. Love, our love and life, like a world without strife. To kneel before a girl… make her my wife. From the book Kairos (print version only)

Fresh Morning

Talk to me in the comfort of fresh morning when a bird's song I may enjoy as the cold of night surrenders to the warmth of dawn and there comes no sound from the telephone or door. Hold me close as the sun plays with shadows when the curtains of our room blow wide as our hearts beat ever so quietly to the pulse of day and seagulls scavenge across the falling tide. Know me when the day is newly born, my love when the spirit within this aging body is content as I steal gentle kisses from your soft lips and inhale the subtle fragrance of this moment. (From the books Kairos  and  10 Love Poems )

I Love You

I see more than you know about all you are, and through my observations and from my analysis I've concluded that I love you. Not a theory quite simply a fact— I love you, and that's that. From the books Kairos  and  10 Love Poems . Also a Best of the Web winner at Love Life Poems in 2012.

When I am Loved by You

A silky aura surrounds me when I . . . Lavender dreams visit me sleeping when I . . . Golden extravagance fills my every moment when I am loved by you. My nerves come to ease My tensions are of no attention My heart beats with subtle integrity when I am loved by you.     (From the books Kairos  and 10 Love Poems )

A Holiday for the Heart

There's a batch of romance now simmering in the heart— add red wine and it's very sweet, the degree of love determines its heat. There's a pink perfume sunrise waiting patiently for its turn— its rays are bright, though bittersweet born, a thread for mending hearts torn. There's a book of poetry blown open by the wind— a million words the poets have said, always a favorite: Roses are red… There's a day reserved for love bearing cards and cliché— the candied tradition our hearts know as Valentine's Day. From the books Kairos (print version only) and 10 Love Poems

About Love

We do not need thoroughfares when love seeks the heart Such is the way of love— always destined, never sought We do not need gold coins when love comes without cost Such is the value of love— always priceless, never bought We do not need a wise man when love speaks through art Such is the beauty of love— always instilled, never taught And we do not need a ruse when love surrenders to us all Such is the enigma of love— always mysterious, never caught ( From the books Kairos  and  10 Love Poems )

Alone

Sitting by a thicket thinking of you. A place full of peace people cease to know. A place where flowers grow wild and unfold untold. A place I often go to be alone. Birds sing in spring and I follow their wing. Sadness seems to fade as I wade through shade. Times like these are what bring me peace— alone with my thoughts when I feel alone. A quiet blue river shimmers in the distance, I’ll walk to it and explore it today. The walk’s not far, I won’t use a car, too much I’d miss along the way. The beauty of a river is said to soothe. Motion of current a deterrent for the blues. So here I’ll sit and smile for awhile— just a little while till I tire of being alone. From the book Kairos (print version only)

Twelve and 12

Becoming twilight softens another midsummer day: stars spark up, the moon pulsates, oceans flinch, day aborts, night reclaims dignity; everything sleeps and everything awakens— the sun has pulled away my shadow. Blushing dawn ascends the misty green hillside: stars flicker out, the moon hides away, night departs, day reclaims strategy; everything awakens and everything sleeps— the sun has tossed back my shadow.       (From the book Kairos )  

Poetaster

I feel like a stranger to myself; passionate for answers— ones I may never know:   The bee gathers nectar; he knows! The bird flies south; he knows! The poet documents his soul; he knows! that he knows nothing.       (From the book Kairos )

Foothills Parkway

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A view from Foothills Parkway in East Tennessee. As the sun lifts layers of mist off the morning hills, thrushes begin to stir in the woodlands. Mother Nature tosses handfuls of jewels across the yawning trees, bringing forth grosbeaks, tanagers, butterflies, and warblers. Later, as the sky turns its best blue, proud hawks and lazy vultures will join the wind in its dance over the waking valley. By then, I will have gone my own way. (From the book HEARTVINES )

A Moment in the Forest

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The wind blowing through the treetops reminds me of crashing waves on a distant sea; leaves blowing down the trail resemble skittering crabs. High overhead, the clouds swirl like cream in a magnificent cup of tea, while nearby a box turtle follows my heel with his ruby eye. Photo by Christopher Collins  Box Turtle by Kathleen Marie Garness (From the book HEARTVINES )

Flash Fiction Story Selected as Editors' Choice

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"Penumbra" has been chosen by the staff at Bewildering Stories as Editors' Choice for flash fiction (issues 472-483).

Deal Down at the Hospital

“After I died,” said seven-year-old Cassie, suddenly free of cancer and wild in the eyes, “there was a big red sky with a huge head floating in it like . . . like the moon, only super close. It was a’ old man, like a wizard, with sharp teeth a thousand feet high and gray lips and no hair—not even eyebrows—and his eyes, they were all white, and they looked sleepy.” The little girl bounced on the hospital bed, feet dangling beneath her gown. She tilted her head and pinched at her hair, which was just starting to regrow. She couldn’t wait to get her pigtails back. “And he, and he drooled a lot too,” she went on, “like waterfalls that fell forever. And there were white fuzzies floating into his mouth. It was all dark in there, except in the back where it glowed orange.” She paused, clawing thoughtfully at her gown. Her bright eyes danced along with the memories as they came rushing back. “Oh yeah, and there were all these little funny-looking heads going around the big head like