life is really seasonal as is
some poets poetry
stages of life so well depicted,

from birth to death do remember me
as the fall does,
of human bondage relieve,
grieve not of my being ere,
remember me with love
throughout the year
if you so care

the autumn of my life arrives,
the horizon is distant,
yet, not bare
so to live another day
let me continue to dare..

.

Beyond the perimeter of time
A relentless voice of personal addiction
Sings of now defunct dreams.

A helping hand strums, on open hills
Stringed anthems to Elysian chords;
applauds long gone deeds.

Many forget in daily commute,
Their pursuit itself an obsession;
Destiny derailed by blind derision.

.

An ordinary rocking chair
with comfy armrests on each side
finish faded here and there
with seat that's solid, firm and wide.

Way back in her school girl years
she'd rock in it while music played
smiling face un marked by tears,
she'd rock and sing while brown hair swayed.

When marriage came it followed her
to her first home and new husband
and after work that old rocker
kept contentment close to hand.

Love’s insidious way of folly
I hasten to report,

ends up not quite so jolly
with a sacrifice the lone retort;

through the days of heartbreak
which constantly peppers his chest,

and said folly, and it’s wake
together forms a kind of mesh;

which can envelope his entire body
protecting him in such a manner,

so, who cares if it looks too gaudy ?
as long as everyone can read love’s banner;

and how it reads is simply this:
sometimes, the bond of two isn’t made,

So this is how it ends
Seven years and this is it
nothing but a faint whisper that trickles down those perfect lips.
Your body as still as that dark night that has been longing so for your touch
The touch I once craved
I once needed, I once yearned for the touch I starved for.
The touch of kind gentle soul, one who took pity on the lost, the dammed, the hopeless and the rejects.

I don't know anyway to love you
Than the way I do
I tried to call the four winds
they weren't enough
I've traveled a dusty lane
And visited a shaman

All in the search for clarity

I don't know anyway to show my love
I grasped at stars
And fumbled a galaxy
I watched a night bloom
As the last ray of day died
In supplication I knelt

Reverently I show my love
The only way I know how

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz
Or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off
I love you as certain dark things to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul

I love you as the plant that never blooms
But carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
Thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
Risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body

It’s harder to see the light
In the little dog’s eyes
Sonorous sounds replay as soft whispers
No longer resonating like the
Icy floor,
Instead melting like the fleeting
Snowfall upon the grass

The remembrances come easily,
But soon dissipate
Replaced by idleness
With faint impressions left behind

I close my eyes to see that magnificent curve of woman running from hip through waist.
Companion in flesh to cello
carved by old knowing hands
of master craftsman
who works alone
in a small room,
creating immeasurable beauty.

Carving contours along which I can slowly wind.
Carved with purpose and time,
until the lean of its lines
can wail sadness in gut wrenching, murderous, murky tones.

When just a moment before she left lullaby's in my ear, breathy and sensual.

Again the rainbow dances across the sky

Singing farewell to the old

Welcoming the new.

Colors of creation

Layers of emotion

Now they leap

Dancing until they die.