quatorzain

Forest Sonnet

so spins my mind in darkened woods
damp in the rains of long ago
underfoot the undergrowth
allows no steady thoughts, nor should
as here is time still as it was
before we stood to contemplate
all that exists beyond our fates
and questioned the world and its cause
these trees grow wise without our mind
to be that which we are or not
they have remained as we’ve forgot
their silence pleads as a reminder
we were their sacred progeny
now grown and lost eternally

The Past is Ashes

I made a pyre of my past
to light me through the darkened halls
I built new from the broken walls
those days before had cast

and as this sacrifice did burn
these corridors of shadows black
opened up in nook and crack
to let the light return

so onward into new lit morns
away from nightmare’d dreams of old
that no more dare to chill my soul
as these cold passages are scorned

thus my darkness I have released
for future light in hoped for peace.

Rains

the rains of April fell in May
washing all the doubts away
that sterile dawns and barren eves
had my thirsting soul believe
for without rain where do thoughts run
from constant shadows of the sun
their travails go round and round
and lift not from the dusty ground
but storms are rich and fertile things
thus inspiration they may bring
in leaping, lashing waterfalls
no wonder that the rainclouds call
to me in the spring’s refrains
thus blessed be the May that rains.