What is love in the end?
He wishes he could spare her tears today. But there is nothing, nobody who can; For tears will out – they’ll always find a way, To issue when they will, despite of plan That she might have of putting on brave face. He loves her with an old man father’s love, Full wishing he her … Continue reading "Her Tears"
Half-frozen mud, cold bracing air A wind that makes my neck aware That leaves torn from the tree will die These poor gray strays who tumble by And like the ghostly light I seek The morn recedes behind the line Only of chance to risk a peek At drifting lives Like yours And mine … Continue reading "Aware"
tangled fall and wind aslant should is shouldn’t, can is can’t up and moving, must away find the heart, forget the day clouds that beckon from the skies wind that laughs, and ground that cries soul that sorrow knows, and grows simple devastation mangled wall of former grief love is long, but life is brief … Continue reading "exploration"
The ugliness of life, it waits Around the corner, in the dark; For all we might procrastinate, The ugliness of life will leave it’s mark. For long with patience will it seek The moments we are down, or weak, And scour down the shores and docks, The country roads, or city blocks, Or happy pathways … Continue reading "The Ugliness of Life"
The hallowing of hollowing, A process I know well: I filled myself with nothingness, And grew too proud to tell – I thought my sorrows justified The moments that I stole; But then, the truth intruded on What was left of my soul — I know the emptiness I’ve lived, I feel the keening lack … Continue reading "The Hallowing of Hollowing"
Boys lose much The day they first learn Not to cry
When I was still a hopeward boy, I’d often dream of flight Out past the clouds, into the stars, And everlasting night. I dreamed of beauty pure and cold, And music in the spheres, But destined I was not to be Among the rocketeers. The sun now bothers tired eyes, The night I hold at … Continue reading "Into the Stars"
Along the Cliffs of Dolor I saw, through mists of rue, A figure circumpolar That always stayed in view. A lurking constellation That hung both day and night — Bright sorrow’s steady station: It’s never out Of sight