in the meter of his verse
the mark of time withstood
for in time’s waters is full writ
the truth lost to his blood.
The Young Poet [2]
in these ancient stones
carved by water’s patient hand
is his name revealed
The Young Poet [1]
he had breathed his last
in the company of gods
too blind to see him.
In What Fragrant Flowers
in what fragrant flowers of spring
dwell the scents to draw the muse,
which painted petals will her bring
inside my garden to peruse
the lusty nectar of my thoughts
from which I seek to drench my rhyme
perhaps in hope she’ll my words court
and help to bloom come summertime.
Dream Broken
I was broken in the last dream
a child’s doll cast aside
once cared for and coddled
clad in silk and smiles
now naked
and scarred with ballpoint ink
on the lookout for my lost arm.
Das Wohltemperierte Klavier
within the forest
we chanced on streams of voices
singing ancient songs
music of the stones
played by fingers sparkling bright
springing from the hills
If I Were A Magpie
If I were a magpie
such sorrow could I sing
a solitary magpie
simple sadness on the wing
apart from all the other birds
and their joyous murmurings
I’d bless the melancholic
such loneliness can bring.
Hush
hush my love and listen
low against this silent sunshine
is the music of the spring
played within the hearts of waking breasts.
Together
we come together
just to fall apart again
in each other’s arms
Angel’s Wings
who clipped the angel’s wings
that he would forever be
the guardian
of this thing called man?
“not I” said the god on high
“my angels fly from such base things,
go ask the devil
for he is man’s advocate”
when asked, the devil smiled
and pointed to the man
“therein lies he who did the deed…
for man himself holds the sway
over gods and angels, and yes
devils too”
