rhyme fragment

has it been a thousand years
or just an hour or two
passing time brings only fears
since it stopped for me and you.

Last Seasons

consecrate this forest glade
that the black ashes of my heart
may rest forever in the shade
and of all seasons here impart
under winter’s frozen clothes
and the sparkled springtime thaw
to sleep through summer’s golden glows
and autumn’s fall for evermore.

Moonrise

her face half hidden
silver in midnight velvet
she keeps her secrets

Lament

my bless-ed lament
that I was not a bloom borne
upon your fair breast

Clouds

what be these clouds to me
save the ghosts
of scattered prayers
discarded by the deities
who ply not recourse
to the faithful souls
torn abroad
in fealty.

Sketch

a crimson lust awakened
stoked scarlet with new blood released
all my dreams are churchyard red
flesh exhumed as unseen beasts

Swords

beyond the mountains
phantoms singing ancient ayrs
once flesh, is now mist

The Price

what price this fickle faith

paid as it is 

in the questionable coin 

of prayers

unheard it seems

by an omnipotence

that is nowhere

to be found

when adversity stalks 

The Dream Of Hands

I dreamed a dream
of henna painted hands
which seemed
at first
to defy all understanding
yet upon a further thought
as I a settled meaning sought
these hands were heaven’s prayers
assigned
to calm my troubled
brow with kindness
while I slept
to ease them all away.
Thus these hands,
though of the night
did with gentle fingers
stroke away the darkness
to reveal a new found light.

Vigil of the Hands

despite the darkness
moments are held forever
within loving hands