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Thursday, March 6, 2014

dark friend


Oh darkness you give space
to light, holding all objects
in their place while they
travel here and there

stars burn seeming inexhaustible
throwing their light
onto moving rocks making
them shimmer and they ornament
the blackness of your dress

they all move freely
some with burning tails
yet some are made of ice
as they travel about
at the speed of light

what energy is possessed
with dark gloves holding them
as they do their thing, wanton
yet seemingly free running,
across the blackness
of your space

but is this face truly black
or do my eyes deceive
whilst all your toy stars
burn in white, red, green  
and gold some consumed in
bellies of black holes
light and all
 
oh dark energy, do you have
a conscience like I do,
a cognition that knows all
and holds the strings that move
this universe in the dark

our eyes see the light
and the objects hurling in flight
but we are blind to the energy
held in the darkness where all reside

a dark energy that dispells theories of
dimensions and relativities in a universe,
maybe even more than two,
with strings and an embylical of consciousness
incomprehensible to our human view



Monday, March 3, 2014

innocence of a strident word


when i walk barefoot on jagged stone
i think of the soothing cool if it was white sand
and as i walk on sharp and bristly shrub
i remember the soft full grasses
underneath my naked feet

when my words sometimes come strident
and they dwell upon the sadness of things
i, too, recall the mellifluous incantations of
Shakespeare, Joyce Kilmer, Shelley and Poe
and i thank them

not always do i choose perforce lamentations
in the subject of my words
but like tickling sprinkles of rain can give way
to a thunderous and ominous storm,
the crumpled debris and broken glass
abutting sidewalk edges all are the character
of reality that reside in the street

i also see the lilies and daffodils sway
in warming breezes of spring
the pristine lakes reflecting the verdant
hills and the ornamental cotton figurines
teasing the finger tips of our precious sun

i see the baby smile in mother’s arms,
the child playing with her pup,
two lovers embracing in the park,
seagulls flying o’er his silver strands of hair
as he feeds them whilst they hover
in the air and little joy ascends in this,

my words can come softly, about…
when innocence prevails
  

Sunday, March 2, 2014

a flower sits still


a flower sits still
its beauty speaks loudly
clouds march in quiet step
yet so poignantly dress
the crinoline of an azure sky
the wolf and the hawk
traverse their homes cape
without disturbing sound
as the forest and the sky
applaud them with an ovation
of freedom

my heart beats unheard
it embraces the human spirit
but tears fall silently recognizing
the breath of apathy that pervades
it hovers not so subtly over the
souls of many for they care not
how they disturb the calming
silence of peace with their angry
hands of violence and war

the flower no longer sits still
nowhere to be found
the clouds have turned grey
with a pungent smell
of burning flesh
the hawk no longer flies over
and the wolf howls no more
for the sounds of death
have disturbed the silence
of the living soul