Sunday, November 29, 2009

Time - Passage

I dream I sat astride a silver horse
And faced ahead a wide, shallow river
The river, my life, as an hour glass,
Far too much sand in its base,
Far too few grains left to fall.

In my hands, the reins,
My pockets, small stones.
I knew my path lay ahead,
But did not, and do not, know
In whose hands a must place these stones.

Unremarkable in color,
Like worn granite river cobble.
But I must cross the river, alone
And I must distribute the stones before I cross.

No one in sight,
Do I simply scatter them into the water
Hoping one day another shall pick this stone or that stone up and take it along its next journey.

Do I somehow hang on, weak, alone,
And wait for the hand in which I'll know each stone is a perfect fit?

And risk failing to even cross the river, let alone distribute the stones my God has placed in my hands?

Is that damnation?
Is that hell?
A life of purpose unfulfilled?

I see now what I have always known:
Love is larger, grander, than all of us.
Love transcends all.
Love is where we all meet.

I tried to share that window of love with a few,
In the end, it was always destined to fail
in human frailty and in human fault
And in human fear to simply let go and feel what is right

I welcome soon that total immersion in love,
Nothing short of what we all seek,
But only find at the curtain call of this existence.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Orion

The Milky Way lay draped
Across Orion's broad shoulders,
Directly overhead.
The swordsman stands
Knee-deep in star-studded velvet,
As an elk standing
In the dew-strewn dawn of a forest's deepest moss.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Rain falls

Rain falls

and

The whole earth cries.

I don't know if it cries in pain
Or of loss.

While crying,
It rarely matters.


I fall
and
No one cries.
Way beyond the skinned knees
And scraped up, gravel-embedded palms of my youth.

When I fall now,
Shit happens.
Or, sometimes, shit doesn't happen
And THAT makes shit happen.

When did I park my monkey bike
And trade cards in spokes
For iron and steel,
Roaring fucking hot metal?

Friday, November 13, 2009

What's the Deal with Moonlight?

What's the deal with moonlight?
Does it really shine on me and shine on you?
Does it bring us together across the chasm of time and space?
Casting good fortune?
Brightest on the darkest nights.
Smothered by the meekest candle,
Never seen on city streets.
You can look at the moon from anywhere
But, cheerful as the moon may be,
You can only catch moonlight
In the darkest of places.

Magical is moonlight
As it shines across your breasts
Your skin, like alabaster, glows pale and smooth
And calls to me
to lay a gentle touch upon your breast
A joining of energy, powerful, poignant.

. . .

I think this poem of sorts is yet unfinished.
You can only catch moonlight
In the darkest of places.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Out there

It is good to know that
Somewhere out there
there is someone who cares,
Someone who loves me
Just as I am
Someone who wants me.
Someone who desires me,
Someone who loves me,
Wants to be with me,
To hold me, to touch me.

It is good to know
But
It doesn't make THIS time
Any easier to bear.

Who would choose to spend
The last hours of their life
Unhappy, unfulfilled, unloved, unloving?

Thursday, November 05, 2009

Two Forty Five AM

The sky like blue slate
Bare limbed trees in silhouette
As veins in marble

Haze obscures like smoke
Wind shifts and translucence
Reveals itself as fine snow
Snow meal, as my Nana would have called it

Tuesday, November 03, 2009

Care, Shared: The Granola Girl Chronicles

I long for a life
Happy & filled with love
Back to core values
Music and romance
Sharing each moment
Loving & the love
of a granola girl

Decades ago
That descriptor was used in derision
But life and love and you
Altered my focus
Changed my vision
Has me longing for the love
of a real granola girl

Honey sweet
Perhaps a bit nutty
But honest and creamy
Eternal desire to be one
Skin on skin
Eye to eye deep
Bare completely to the soul

Just the thought
Of close proximity
Breath falters
Heart flutters
Mind races
Hands long for
Touch

Care, shared