Sewn Under A Pall

Red Poppies on the Wall
Know not Spring or Fall
Their fates have been pressed
and forever sealed
Passion drenched petals
No longer feel

Red Poppies on the Wall
Answer selflessly, the call
Their witnesses proffer
Not lavish Praise
but solemn Stares
Drawn through crimson haze

Red Poppies on the Wall
Who have Risen to the Fall
Gone to seed before the season
With No Influence over Reason

Red Poppies on the Wall
Plucked as Sacrifice to All
Broad Fields of red
Their colors Shed
Each Sewn Under A Pall

after thought- may 2005

minutes fleeting, ticking
life in strobing images
black and white
slow, flickering
a flame at the feet of Pericles
Kings snickering
with brazen greed
stoking engines on
that will not heed
to logic, love or higher notions
but thrust henchmen on
across the oceans
to spoil and soil
by sword and shield
their purple cloaks
adorn the field
...
just an after thought
to dinner and a movie
in America

fields of emeralds
shimmering
diamond bright sparks
alight
the tapestry
of dawn's wet grasses

these jewels known
to the wealthy barons
of life lived simply

light spun

sphinx in the desert
sun on her face
illuminating her enticing russet hue
desire is the link
that brings us to this place
to learn what is known
under heavenly eyes azul

messianic voices
call to each from cavernous souls
to reach the lips of one
whose work is to extoll
the virtues of the arduous journey
to share all there is to give
and walk in reflection
of creation
that as one
may we all live

issuance

a steady breeze, cool
just off the river
after days of rain
issues out stale thoughts
regrets and feelings of surrender
and in ushers
refreshed resolve
to accept
what is
what is possible

a scent upon the wind
alerts our deepest selves
to the presence of
Grace

we pray upon
the new day

little by little
i whittle away
to pay
the debt i owe
upon this world of woe
for in the whittling
i find true joy

Sweet Girl

what sort of smile did you wear?
did you have a ribbon in your hair
when first you met over a malted
and agreed
that he'd
pick you up at six
to take a walk
along cobbled paths
rain slick
pond-side in the park
in the company of ducks and geese
and strangers
that you did not see
a prelude to a meal
a drink or two
and a rousing game of pachenko
never before had you
smoked
or stood with lips dry and parted
eyes joyous darted
to the floor, his strong hands, eyes, shoulders
his dark hair
against your cheek
his breathing in your ear
your knees so weak
you could never have imagined
that decades on...
you would wait in the car
while he limped into the pharmacy
to help your cause
your mouth locked in a grimace
so little color left in your face
the glisten in your eyes resigned
to their reddened rims
bags rest atop your sallow cheeks
your back stooped in perpetual decline
feet sore
and ankles swollen
kept warm
with a shawl woven
at his bequest
upon the occasion of your fortieth

his love never more true
than now
never
before of greater depth
he sees you still
in the bloom
of his blossoming love
his
Sweet
Girl

days of grace
and ones of toil
days of joy
and of consequence uncoil
more quickly than a striking snake
to bite one with but memories
where life once was

a walking poem

i am not proud
nor am i ashamed
i am not modest
nor am i immodest
i am of the scent of a wet dog
i am of the clip-clop of a broken sandal
upon the path
i am of the trees
arching high above the trail
and of the fallen leaves
which lay spent at its sides
my sister scampers underfoot
while brother spins his world
amid the limbs overhead
my father sits, belly to ground
waiting on the hum
of the beginnings
and of the ends
my mother is all around

after each meal service

i wash dishes
for an hour, more or less,
i do not mind the dishes
they must be washed
this occupies the body
yet my mind is free
to wander and hold conversations
while my hands hold the dishes

i pray
for humility and patience
while washing dishes
for hours each week

my mind writes poetry
and stories and turns of phrase
while my hands wash ceramic

the poems wash my heart
as they occupy my soul
while soap and scrubber
occupy my hands

it is not unusual
to drop a dish
sometimes they break
while others clatter and spin to rest
either way
i laugh at my carelessness

passage temporeal

sweeping veils of desert sand
blind all eyes to guiding hands
through the ages
war over lands
incessant rages
brother against brother
witness the sages
we cite too well the dawning page
years again era
place of Pharaoh
golden face of Zion's dome
Truth in peace
asleep in Rome
alight the gilded hearth of home
of the family chosen whom
ordained in name
ascend the throne
their reign a fleeting mourning dove
as high tide, and low
Yet light and love
for knowledge, riches, glory strove
conquest by sword and bullets shone
in greatness and in grave are known
each imperial life a tome
and to each
an end is come

Alpha Omega

staring into the rock
saw the sea

staring into the sea
saw the fishes

staring into the fishes
saw the root of reeds

staring into the reeds
saw the bird

staring into the bird
saw the wind

staring into the wind
saw the breath of the sun

staring toward the sun
was enjoined by spirit

seeing with the spirit
saw All as One

Beauty Informs the Spark Within

witness
we see
beauty
in forms

flame is our reminder
of the illusory nature

flame is our reminder
of the spark of beauty
which resides in all form

flame is one reminder
of the transience
and permanence of beauty

we see beauty in the
form of one

we see beauty in the Three

we witness beauty
in the forms of seven
and seventy trillion
as beauty exists within all form

beauty exists above form
yet within all form

beauty is without form
and exists above form
yet resides within all form

beauty exists without form
yet within all

within and without

without and within all
is the spark
that exists behind and above beauty

Venusian Reign

rings in the heavens
reflections
of cosmic formulae
Whose grand intentions?
keys to understanding
all basis of creation
ratios
sealed with gold
in sacred geometry

stars from circles
upon the plane
stars traced overhead
by Venusian reign
in cyclical travel
our mother of Spring
heartens to alight
a five point star
with each year of flight

these mysteries serve
our inquiries to ignite

saujeti

in the rain i am washed
yet fathom not
how many drops have caressed
my arms, face and chest

known is the light of day
but not the measure of our sun's glow

are we certain how many blades of grass
constitute a field?

i have been drunk on wine
and still wonder
within which sip
i became delirious

such is my quandry over love
each day a gift
many infused with joy and passion
admiration and hope

the brilliance of this bliss
exists as the light of stars
all encompassing, yet diffuse

adrift within this splendor
faith guides us into realms
that teach us more than science might prove

Tsunami

gulls rise and fall
with the waters
cresting warm currents of air
the resting on pilings in natural prayer

earth mother speaks gently
to her attentive brood
shooing from her table
the raucous multitude

up at once and fly away
leaving still many to fish and play
on sand soft granules
between small toes
a laugh, a cry with life's flow

the dawn by light
ushered a glorious day
beseeching those present
to fall and pray

coursing torrent beneath distant waves
surface calm belies earth's fray
scales tipped
her balance out of sway

sleeping ships, dancing feet
upon her beach

shells, stars, tomorrow
just out of reach

some thunderous rumble
a far off roar
hold truths to bear
upon the shores

glad tidings passed
from tiny hands
to pining brought
upon all lands

eagle nebula

Brilliance comes forth faint
from the most black space

Let sound the horns in revelry
behold the shining face

Love irrepressible
Spirit and fire aspout

One stands trembling
weeping, laughing
falling when life runs out

Then enveloped Holy
by Creation's bold embrace

Any fear of passage shed
with songs of bird, the guide

To Travel through the silken threads
of light- born and died

A night, a life, Eternal
Gnostic in the cosmic Lace

soul windows

bright eye embers
snuffed slowly
blown over with soft ash
sweetly
with lids the grey blue
of limestone cool
veils of crystalline
jewelled
portals of transcendence
whose vista is warmth
and being
and all else
there is to know
In whispers shallow
praise
i lay in darkness
waiting
to be lighted
by her shade drawn soul windows