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Death, its grey winged whispered flight,
hovers a shroud of eerie light above the soul,
its presence shades all thoughts of days with light,
when clear skies, filled with sailing clouds of white
made all seem
all right,
all safe,
all pleasing to the sight,
Now
dank, dead roses rot inside the heart,
those flowers of red
that once took part in the arts of life,
loves gentleness imparted;
sensed the scent,
the velvet softness touched by cheek and lip,
now bleeds.
REFLECTION
and through the looking glass
I crept
to see the other side of me
all spells broken
and into a darkness
I fell
like Lucifer in his hell
for what the years
had truly taken
but despair finds its hope
somewhere
and what has been
by Time forsaken
is in Time forgotten
I visit often, the Library of my Heart.
Sometimes I go to reminisce,
and at other times, I find my self
browsing through the volumes,
as I catalogue them
and replace them on the shelves.
There are so many volumes,
I’m really quite taken “aback”, at times;
Because I realize that I’ve been so liberally blessed,
with these episodes of the heart.
And on any given day,
I’m always pleasantly surprised;
whisper to me in dark places,
unshackling my mute form
revive the thousand voices,
I have sustained in a forever
unspoken and formless
so as to be forgotten,
it was in a night-scape,
the void of sound
negated speech
I break into flight,
with an oath choking
on my first cry
I drift on the hair of my nape,
as the weave of my cloth
spirals, for a moment
as gums bleed out
the rhythm in my shade, refrains
A soft almost indigo light
Pervades the garden
Casting oddly velvet shadows
From trees and plants on
The moss framed cobble stones
That meander round corners
In sweeping bends
To accommodate the ferns
And hosta
Moisture pervades and adds
the scent of composting generations
Wetting the cobbles
Dripping from leaves
Ancient trees canopy and
Old damp stone walls
Protect this oasis from the
Roaring traffic just meters away
I shall go quietly
albeit with my chains -
released into the ethers
without pleasure, without pain
Dissociative dimness,
numbs the mind.
Indifference is Nature's way
of release, from the unkind.
No love for love
given freely over time.
No pity for this fool
who's passion proved the only crime.
14 April 13
While idly speculating why
I gave a little sigh
the chances to descry
are slim
My mind formed a fist
gave reality a twist
(it developed an alarming list)
and sank
I sit here quite complacent
a cold beer is adjacent
an idea forming nascent
I dismiss
These words have little meaning
perhaps I am just screening
the possibility demeaning
I have nothing more to say
you are that butterfly,
I always wished to be
in the solemn solitude
of the place where now I be,
yours are the wings
upon which I'd like to fly
as far and further as a butterfly
but take care of my weight,
tis bound to be a strain
that, I can't help
but my aerofoil shall help air to flow
will help reduce my weight
of course that you know
your poetry is like music
even my deaf ears
pick up the string
as in it snows
here in spring....
soft music begins....
A COVENANT OF ONE
It was not the best
of times
but it was my time
and now the years
have flown
leaving me on my own
alone
with the ghosts
that haunt
me
I longed for more time
to lay cornerstones,
but life had started
detaching my soles
I wanted more daylight
to see a Galaxy of beauty
that rested,
within one finger of breath
I desired of many things
to walk the Ponte Vecchio
and glimmer in its wares,
casting a reflection in the Arno
that wavered to the Vasari
to shelter
beneath a Sistine vision
as Michelangelo, Raphael
Botticelli and Bernini
dart in and out
of my haunt,
smudging all in view
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