Saturday, December 8, 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)

Friday, December 7, 2012

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)
 
 

Thursday, December 6, 2012

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)

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

"Vivid orange light…" (now titled 'Sunset')

Vivid orange light
hovers over a city dipped in gray.
Whispers float, caught in the ebb & flow
of secrecy—
And the cat becomes curious.


From the book Kairos (print version only)

Good Night

Ducks huddle in marshy niches, the day is putting away.
The light eddies, the aquatics stir, the edge dwellers scurry.
A splash turns heads; was it a fish? It was a fish.

A gang of mud bubbles race towards the lily pads;
they pop quietly at the surface, releasing myriad secrets.
But the bullfrog, he never heard them, nor cared to listen anyway.

A tired wind falls back, stretching across the reeds:
Always better to blow good and well in the morning;
always better when the cold can’t stop you.

By day’s productive end, no cattails fell in love;
the sexy sway of rushes falling short of enticement.
Though no lust between vegetation, on a bug level—look out!

A mossy-hand mirage hovers over the landscape,
touching the switch for night & day. A crepuscular
bell sounds, and activity fills the sanctuary.

All’s well and in place—

A gentle push, it’s dim.
Pushed harder, and twilight descends.
Down further, the moon lights the water.
Down all the way, good night.


From the book Kairos (print version only)

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)

Monday, December 3, 2012

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've come to her in this ephemeral light. 

A butterfly nearby takes to air,
its dazzle and frailty the wink of beauty's eye.
With compassion it alights upon dryad's shoulder;
a gesture of fresh happiness to a broken heart. 

Dryad slides from the lifeless oak,
aglow in the hue of newest wisdom.
She dances off to darker wood, and butterfly ascends;
reverie folds up and fades from her brightest eyes.


(From the books Kairos and Collected Poems)

Sunday, December 2, 2012

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 Collected Poems)

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 doesn't know
she can't decide.

But during that day
more had become clear:
Your heart is soothed, my dear.


(From the book Kairos)

Saturday, December 1, 2012

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 want to die?

Would she weep and send away
those painful days into the earth,
and walk down new paths of sunlight
holding the jewel of her worth?

Send me back, to the world;
bring me there, hold me there,
keep me from the sky. Leave me,
if you love me—and kiss me goodbye!


(From the book Kairos)

Friday, November 30, 2012

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)

Saturday, November 17, 2012

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)

Friday, November 16, 2012

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 books Kairos and Collected Poems)

Thursday, November 15, 2012

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)

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

(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, 10 Love Poems, and Collected 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, 10 Love Poems, and Collected 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)

Monday, November 12, 2012

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, 10 Love Poems,
and Collected Poems)

Sunday, November 11, 2012

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)