death

Midwinter poem

Why are you so forlorn my love
In this midwinter storm
Old man winter's half spent
His strength still formidable but diminished
And the days have started their slow climb towards the height of summers long day
 
The rains have come again though
They've not yet washed the earth
Of the ice and dirty snow
But the ground beneath is softened now
And its only a matter of time 
Til the birch-sap begins to flow
 
Keep laying out seeds of faith my love
For the sparrow and the chickadee
And let their chattering warm your heart
And do not begrudge the deer the cedar in the backyard
While all nature awaits in reverent silence
For the warmth and grace of spring
 
Last summer the gods blessed your garden
The tiny apple-tree nearly broke beneath the weight
A harvest to remember and apple pie for Christmas
The dahlias looked radiant in the midnight sun
And even still the parsley in your greenhouse hangs on
You must have known even then, the winter would be long
 
Tis the way of the world my love
This sacred circle of life and death 
Like the dry bulbs you have stored
Silent on a cold and dark cellar shelf
Carefully wrapped and stored in hope
Of the warmth and new life of spring
 
You and I have grown old my love
Our love like the gnarled old pine
Where your father's swing still hangs
There is yet strength enough in our limbs
To bear our children's children's weight
And the snows of winters yet to come

Cunning Stunt

Folder: 
Perverse & Bazaar

I love Mexico, and

I love China.....

But there’s nothing I love more

than Your....

 

Smile.

La forêt

Au dessus d'un cimetière aux tombes grises

Tombent les feuilles aux couleurs mortes 

Tandis que dégringolent au gré de la brise 

Des lambeaux de vie et d'espoir que l'on avorté

 

Le vent chante se sinistre mélodie, 

Soufflant les flammes de bougies heureuses 

Pendant que pleurent doucement à l'agonie

Les branches frêles de la sylve silencieuse 

 

Ne craint follement les feuilles qui tombent

Celui dont les pensées

Résonnent la nuit durant dans les catacombes 

 

Les plaintes de la forêt qui se meurt,

Seuls l'entendent ceux qui de la vie ont peur 

Et qui cherchent le sens à toute heure 

 

Du ballet de la chute des ombres brunes 

De la pâle froideur de la lune 

 

Alors sous le lierre et les ronces

On peut entendre un murmure, une sinistre réponse;

 

"Les morts ne parlent pas"

 

Océan

Partout du bleu, rien ne bouge

Rien n'importe, tout s'éloigne

Plus bas coule un jeune homme vêtu de rouge,

Qui serre une écharpe dans sa poigne

 

Plus profond. Les yeux bleus pâle se ferment.

 

Il revoit pourtant son sourire.

L'apparition s'approche, le souvenir germe

Comme au premier jour, il la revoit rire

 

Plus profond. Une lente torpeur s'installe

 

Il pleut. Sous une ombrelle, deux amoureux

Sous le manteau le coeur cavale

Timidement ils échangent un baiser, puis deux.

 

Plus profond. Au loin, une toute petite lueur.

 

Les ténèbres grandissent. Il n'a pas peur.

Les spectrent disparaissent, c'est l'heure.

Il la revoit rire.

 

Plus profond.

 

Loin du noir, loin du silence

On ouvait apercevoir avec les vagues en pleine danse

Un vieux foulard tout flétri

 

Plus profond, quelqu'un sourit.

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Les feux follets

La nuit dans une dense forêt 

Résonnent les derniers mots de l'explorateur 

Envouté dans le noir par une brève paleur

Flottant doucement au delà du marais

 

Emu par un étrange cortège

De petites et folles lanternes

Qu'entre les arbres à peine on discerne

En suivant les feux follets c'est l'esprit qui s'allège

 

Dans les ténèbres, le chant des lumières

Dans le silence dansent les lueurs

Et dans les yeux meurent les clameurs

 

Au delà de la forêt, au dessus d'un marais

Flotte l'âme de l'explorateur

Suivant dans la brume d'étranges clartés.

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An Armchair Theologian

I believe! I Believe! Lord, help my unbelief

I believe, I believe, my constant motif

I believe but don't grow

And my faith doesn't show

Because I can't be bothered to “do”

 

I know faith is given, not earned

Yet here I sit unconcerned 

I'm given to resting 

When I should be testing

To see that my faith is real

 

“You shall know them by their fruits”

But seeds planted on stones don't have roots

My apathy grows

So nobody knows

That I don't follow what I believe

 

The path down below is a slope

So gradual and smooth that you hope

It stays just the same

Like a current so tame

But leads to a waterfall

 

I'm not living, or learning

I'm sitting and burning

Lord I want to live

But not if I give

My time or my life

My comfort for strife

Is there an easier way?

 

You said believe and I shall be clean

Believe, and come home again

But how can I start

If only my heart

Wasn't an armchair theologian

Arete

Hope is a candle in a sea of darkness, eagerly awaiting the sun. 

Trust is a drop of the purest water, in an ocean full of desert sand.

Loyalty is the assurance of your own two feet, that you will stand.

Love is a bubbling geyser; filling, and rushing to overflowing. 

Empathy is a mother's love, from someone that you don't know.

Peace is an ocean of glass-like water, that ripples of war cannot move.

Honesty is a pure wine, with no dregs to ruin the taste.

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Angelus Canticum

Folder: 
Light and Dark

Every single note was a song in itself

And every little breath was a melody

And I, a painful ripping squeal

That bellowed from inside of me

 

Her crimson lips had softly smiled

As she sang angelically 

But no more than a dissonant chord

Was the best that I could be

 

Oh, angel of the nightly song!

How wrapped in you I have become!

How can I go, and sing alone

Shouting like a falling drum

 

I can't forget your heavenly voice

That pierced the ever-present noise

Through sky and the pervasive smog

To me, whom naught but death employs. 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I lost the will to keep working on it. It's sat on my desktop for weeks now and it's just time to post what there is.

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Southern Gothic

Folder: 
Tales and Fables

I can't tell where I'm going

Don't know where I've been

But I feel I'm moving quickly

And I guess that's all there is

 

I've gone round in my head

Side to side within

Reason had too much sense

Foolishness left me behind

Walking to a dirt-road crossroad

Guess I'll say hello

 

Whiskey from the heavens

Daniels in my veins

Traveling to hell on that southern gothic train

Baptized my humanity in the river

Left my soul with the morning star

Guess I've lost it all

 

They say that those with nothing left

Have nothing left to lose

Well hell, I'm far past that

With no future, and no past

Don't mess with me, son

Or my face will be your last

 

Whiskey's long gone now

But the moon's still shining bright

And there's heaven to gain

But hell to pay

The brass is still warm

But I'm cold as the grave

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