poetry

Poetry

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~ In The Looking Glass ~
I'll sing a song, so listen, as I'm singing,
to the tune.
Then close your eyes and look inside my mind.

Peer into a picture,
and perhaps you will perceive,
that it is just a piece of person turned to paint.

And remember as you read this,
if my meaning should seem blurred,
that a poem's just a poet,
in a word.

~ One ~
Could it be
that once upon
a gray and yellow time
there was a woman
like my mind?

And maybe once before,
in forgotten days of yore,
there was a man,
and I am he.

And perhaps a thousand years
and a hundred million tears
will bring a child
who will be me.

And maybe we
will be Forever.

v

~ Windward ~
Huddled like dogs against snow,
groping for the rootless stem of yesterday,
we balance on the icy quill of now.

While the sky,
in violent harmony,
ravages itself, again and again
as the earth claps time.

Do we fear most
that the dance will end too soon?
Or that it will tremble on forever,
like the wind?

v

~ Seasons Of The Wind ~
~ Spring ~
Bursting from mountains,
new as lava,
crashing down gullies,
tasting the pores of the land.

~ Summer ~
Skip over prairie knots
tumble weed,
spin to harmonica tunes,
whirling to earth's end,
and back,
and back,
pausing only to kiss
a passing rabbit.

~ Autumn ~
Sickle swift, it reaps
the dust, the snow,
that dangles from the earth
like wheat,
slicing cleanly
at the edge
of tomorrow.

~ Winter ~
Ice still,
puddled in my memory,
covered with a dusty sheet,
a vacant room,
looking for tenants
to scare.

~ A Garden Beautiful ~
They are prisoners in the garden
for there is no gate,
and nowhere for a garden gate to go.
But the garden is so large,
that they may never even know,
that the garden,
is an island,
is a jail.

On wings of wisdom fly away.
Chart your course by stars of truth.
Scale the walls on steps of knowledge.
Other gardens wait for you.

v

~ A Song of Living ~
Trouble me no more
with silly songs of heaven
I'm living now and
I must remain to do so.
For the earth it is my home,
the only one I've known,
and I'm not about to trade it
for a new one.

So if you sing to me,
sing a song of living,
sing it till the whole world
sings it with you.
And when I've gone away,
sing it to the children,
for theirs are the voices
of the future.

For we are all just travelers
upon the road of time.
I like this world I'm visiting
and I will make it mine.
For the earth and all it's people
are the family of my mind
and I want to bring them good things
in my time.

~ A limerick ~
There once was a man from Tibet,
who at birth forgot to forget.
Knowing future and past,
he discovered at last,
that his timer was never reset.

v

~ Risk ~
Great beauty
like the sun's
is only seen
at the risk
of blindness.

~ Its About Time ~
Time has no beginning
it has no end.
It's an Oreo cookie
without the crunch.

v

~ Summit ~
The warm orange sun caresses
and titillates and sings,
a choir of tactile voices
make the soft warm air to ring.
All awareness ebbs and flows
and sounds like surf
on sensate sand,
then slowly darkness' velvet blanket
fuses sea and land.

v

~ Morning Mist ~
Into the dawn two hearts are beating
slowly, softly
almost touching.
Around each heart a body's breathing
and in it's grasp another's sleeping.

Arms and legs and other things
from each into the pot are thrown
and in the pot they're mixed
until they form one body
mind and soul.

And then light comes
so eyes can see and
skin can feel
and noses smell
the early morning lover's scent
the last residual of the night.

Stirring human shapes emerge
as from united sleep they rise.
The solar surgeon's knife has come
to separate
the Siamese twins.

v

~ Near and Far ~
I wish I were a locksmith
with the knowledge and the skill
to make a key
to fit the lock
upon the doorway to your will.

I'd fashion it of love and trust,
respect and knowledge too.
And turn it with gentility,
to open you to you.

But I am not a locksmith
and I haven't any key.
And so your will remains untouched
by either you
or me.

v

~ Pas de qua ~
A gift of love,
a gift for you,
a one time lived
but too soon over
moment
in forgotten time.
A poem
for us.