ON TIME
Over time, without rhyme
Out of time, with no reason
Just in time, clocks chime
With time, out of season
NOT LONG SINCE
As we say goodbye to twenty-fourteen
And to those that will go unseen
For those of us that have yet to go
May the new year come and be it so
That we find all we need we need to be
And are able to embrace this gift to see
The beauty and the love of friends
The temper and the song Earth vends
With remaining mortal hours spent
Kindly with the fleeting minutes lent
Lunaris Rarus
Tens of thousands of insects performed a symphony, an elaborate musical composition passionately orchestrated, resonating, familiar and strange, persisting, unwavering notes upon notes – the last hurrah – as I strolled along the cooly illuminated cement walk, to view, in an early evening wan indigo sky, the golden orb of a Harvest Moon. Pale purply hued shadows decorated the reflecting surface of the blonde satellite presenting the appearance of a face: still, mute, suspended, shedding an ochre glow, casting mine moon shadow: casting a shadow for all, for all mindful of the rare reverie.
AT SIXTY-THREE
At sixty-three
He is set free
From a failing shell
And an untold hell
In a difficult world
His flag unfurled
Cast off this melancholy storm
Of sorrows of unfair form
He paid the fee
At sixty-three
SHADOWS OF WARS
The shadow of war
Revolution, no more
The lesson unlearned
Power, Privilege and Wealth soar
Senate and Congress do hoar
King, Czar, Sultan returned
Tell who’s who and what’s for
Observation towers and bunkers
To profits old clunkers
Enslaving the poor
Through to the core
From battlefield to graveyard
The law defines who’s ward
To die on your own
And be buried unknown
FLY AWAY
Ah… metamorphosis, a treasure to look forward to.
With the fearlessness and innocence of a child, knowing and not knowing anything, I aspire; to do anything, go anywhere: seeds blowing in the wind and roots shackled, ensconced in the loamy soil of this old home, cast off, cast away…
Ah… Metamorphosis a treasure to unfold…
Ever,
R.
WHEN DEATH COMES
When death comes will it be like meeting an old friend?
When death comes will it be a relief?
When death comes will it come to send?
When death comes: a new life…
Whenever death comes,
R.