The Hollow Day

A September poem, not previously published.

The Hollow Day

I sit untrammeled mid the hollow day.
Just as the sky is empty, so are we,
‘Neath random bits of cloud now blown our way
That block September’s hospitality
From shining, golden, down on you and me.
It’s ever as it was, since time began —
The hollow day within the hollow man

The day that comes is like the sea…

.. the happy, busy, playful sea.

The day that comes is like the sea,
The happy, busy, playful sea –
So much, right there, in front of me:
Alas, though – I am empty

The night that comes is like a fair,
Or carnival, with treasures rare –
The lights shine on beyond compare:
Alas, though – I’m unseeing

For day and night and night and day
Go on the old fantastic way,
With new friends and new games to play —
But here I am, in harrows

The day that comes is wide indeed,
With miracles that I’m sure feed
Into the life I’d like to lead –
For now, I’m
In the narrows

Hallways : Gray Egress

Today, the world seems cold and gray.
I hope it doesn’t stay that way –
It chills me to my very bone,
A creature, silent and alone

And colden days come back to me
Gray hours by a churning sea
I’d stare into uncaring waves
And dream of her I longed to see

Another gray time now I view:
An autumn day that we once knew
You told me you must go away
The painful words I knew were true

So here again, amidst the gray
Another cold, indifferent day
I shiver, slightly, deep in thought
And travel towards what destiny
Has wrought

the meanwhile butterfly

he saw discomfort written on his hands
and felt his will be thwarted by the world;
the patterns, all chaotic, of perchance
that settled dark in clouds and murky swirled

he turned inside to search out where the light
had gone, and why the bioverse gives pain;
he wanted sun, the shoulder-sun of june,
but felt it weakly through a window pane

he missed the meanwhile butterfly go by
the she without that turns the we to i

escaped from prism, eager to go forth;
the lesson of the worm, turned
metamorph


© Nylakatara2013 | Dreamstime.com – Butterfly iris

He Hears The Nearing Thunder

… as the sky begins to shake.

He hears the nearing thunder as
The sky begins to shake;
He shuddering will wonder if
He’ll die before he’ll wake

And he will kiss the memories
He long thought he had banned;
For life and death are all the same
They didn’t go
As planned