Beckoning, the open gate, On a summer morn; Lonesome in the sun, sedate, Yet a touch forlorn Graves of many, long ago, Who lived near this place; Disrepair, but even so, It’s a lovely trace Sleeping, on the mountainside, In a hundred beds, Flowerings of humankind Each last petal sheds Let the trees grow strong … Continue reading "The Open Gate"
there comes a day we have to yield, where there’s no controvery — when wind will blow and we must bow, for winter knows no mercy
... there is a cost.
Wraith-like, twisting My dream sweeps out With menaced urgency Lighting on some Ancestral shrine Where my soul longs to be The grasses, bending, Supplicant Whisper how I should stay The grave welcomes A mendicant Who cannot find his way But I will be there Soon enough The tomb – what’s left of me For now, … Continue reading "Mendicant Dreams"
(or “Old Poem, Written Age 18”) We live in a world full of false attribution, Where people smear filth and then call it ablution; Where lies are the most common type of pollution, And all that gets over are cheaters and cons — We breathe in the air of congenital aping, Our souls full of … Continue reading "Sic Transit Gloria Nihil"
Amid the fields and rivers And scent of honeycomb, I heard the summer calling For me to head back home. The sky was tinged with cantaloupe, The wind was warm and slack, But I knew if I made it home I’d never make it back. Out by the ancient river, I said my last goodbyes … Continue reading "Summer Calling"
We cannot find a common ground To share a point of view, For I stand here, in judgment, of The things that make you, you And you are there, entombed within That fort of your devising; That there’s no common ground for us Just isn’t that surprising But there’s a universal truth In all strife … Continue reading "A Common Ground"
No matter where we go, we find These passageways from here to there; The holes, the corridors, the ways We travel through to find the fair Or foul that life might offer us. We sail to where the chances are We’ll go where we’ve not gone before: And risk, at times, our seeking lives To … Continue reading "Hallways : Iceberg"
Within the weeds.