what does this air play
save for the short melody
of foreboding storms
poet
Crossed
the sunlight is no longer mine
it has crossed into the mountains
of far, far away
and no more on me will shine,
my valley left in twilight
twixt dark shadow’s play.
After all
let the flowers find their way
through our graves of sodden clay
and have the sunrise bring it’s dawn
as it has done on every morn
though no songs be joyous sung
nor rhymes no more from poets wrung
the rivers will at oceans end
and in the storms the trees will bend
this earth will notice not we’ve gone
when man’s tender here is done.
Glance
my glance is told in tales yet secret
its true intent not yours to know
behind mendacious painted eyes
unrevealed I dare not show
how my thoughts of all unravel
all my reason’d cognisance
thus I hold a look well travelled
a mask to hide what’s in my glance.
Pearl
a pearl glistening
iridescent in the glow
of passionate streams
fair nature’s jewel
adorned with the new desire
that caresses dreams
The Heart
of little birds my heart is made
though it cannot soar, it flies
in ways that winds can fathom not
and through the hardest rains reply
by taking wing despite the days
that try in vain to spirits break
so in my heart these birds do sing
and of its clay a soul can make.
Mind
my feverish mind
finding broken metaphors
in torn up poems
The Call
dark rivers call me
haunting my thoughts to their source
there heaven begins
Dancer
Incense smoke curls
and follows the dancer’s form
her shapes ephemeral
and in a glance renewed
each turn of face, each step
reveals another her
for his senses’ delictation
clad only as she is in nature
and the ash of burning lotus wood
Arrow
A burning passion strikes
the flaming dart of Cupid’s whim
that though a fervency ignites
we have no qualms to burn within,
the glowing embers which inspired
bold Eros to his willow’d bow
now too consume the heart in fires
of fevered mind and restless soul