WINTER’S PROSE TOO
Tattered and battered charcoal-gray wintered limbs reach and wiggle for the warmth of the sun; through a silver-gray winters pall; winters old and wintering in the yard.
solitude
All posts tagged solitude
MY DEAREST C.,
As I sit in the sanctuary of this tree house at six-forty-five am in the mid autumn darkness of daylight savings time, typing and sipping a very hot medium roast of cocoa and subtle spice of Guatemala Antigua, softly and quietly illuminated by the candles in the window and the twinkle lights from the terrace, the grounds below invisible and the wood, beyond the bay window I am facing, but a mere phantom, I feel gratitude for this measurable measure of equanimity.
VELVET CRUSH
With errands waning
And the hours gaining
Embraced seclusion
Poured premium infusion
Preferred writers read
Responses in head
Rich and expansive
Savory castellation live
Return to the few
In answer I do
Between lush sips
O’er approachable lips
The wine stands alone
Honoring authors I’ve known
Structured Cabernet Sauvignon
The rush coming on
Paired perfectly Velvet Crush
The afternoon before the rush…
FIRMLY HELD
In my solitude
The music plays
Silent attitude
Koto sways
Guitars, zither
Unnoticed on cloud nine
With and without her
Vigorous income fine
Not forever
They love you better
Six feet underground
Feigning weeping on the mound
On my island
Paintings sweep
An open hand
Verity to keep
You never know
What will happen next
Long row to hoe
Casino Nation, perplexed
Soldiers cut down
Dead on the ground
Away from their town
Profits to be found
A million lies
No matter who dies
All those wasted
So peculiar few feasted
See the look in my eyes
Not playing for respect
Everyone dies
Villages wrecked
On my island
On cloud nine
Invincible and
Convictions mine.
TO BE HAD
Again… a verdant canopy
Has enveloped my view
Seasoned, surrounding me
Verdurous hue.
Many more?
Mysterious allure…
No need to know
What’s in store…
“Life always has an unhappy ending, but you can have a lot of fun along the way, and everything doesn’t have to be dripping in deep significance.”
– Roger Ebert
STILL AND ALL
A cold rain prattles
As old death rattles
Another friend gone
Another singsong
With all the days numbered
Each greeted and lumbered
Another friend gone
Too soon, too alone
Still early, still dark
Unroosted birds lark
Another friend gone
Tender life; how long
Another daybreaks
Icy rain wakes
Another friend gone
And then there was one
SPRING ZING
The wood is white
To spring a sight
Comfort day wish
Artists go fish
Heavy and wet
Mid March bet
Forecasters drone
Safe home alone
Bird on a branch
Unfrozen in stance
Surrounded by icing
Temperature dicing
The wood now is flocked
The bird’s head is cocked
Winged, swooped away
For some eave to stay
Floating wafting
Softly ofting
Take what’s in store
The map says there’s more.
g,
AT A LOSS (or)
LOSING EVERYTHING AND MORE
Financially unable.
Physically unstable.
Can’t get it done,
Your number is one.
No subsidy.
No easement.
No Friday.
No Payment.
Standing alone,
No home of your own.
Disparity wound,
No riches to sound.
Your wealth; aberration,
As most of a nation.
Reward is a ghost.
Few hoard the most,
And never will host.
No need to mind,
The rest left behind.
They’ll lose theirs too,
In moments too few.
You’re ahead of the game.
The loss not so lame.
They’ll gnash and they’ll weep,
Over treasure unfit to keep.
You’ll stand alone,
Poor on your own.
Nothing to share,
Commanding less care.
Losing it now,
Will prepare you for how,
For all, not for some.
A matter of minutes to come
Seeing Red
As the wood wavers to a winter breeze, and the sun sets on this cold romantic February waking, I entertain the second glass of ruby red valentine wine; as it sifts lower in my throat the Angus Die-Trinity Choir performs Barber’s Adagio – number four on the playlist, after, strings, flute and brass, while tears roil over both cheeks, lost, streaming into and onto my beard: I write now to clarinet; next the Tokyo String Quartet for over eight minutes, then, organ: without fail: the most confident and sincerely lovely evening I have enjoyed in some time.
A WINTER’S TALE
Another dusting of confectioner’s glaze
Accoutrement to travelers daze
The holly’s frosting, icing pure
To warn careful touring, to be sure.
It arrived overnight
Soft delicate and white
Temperatures secure
Perhaps tomorrow there’s more.
The groundhog may
See his shadow today
If he does or not
We’ll take what we’ve lot.
February’s weather romance
We know in advance.
Some stay at home
Other’s left alone.
Winters will come
For all; not for some.
The pale it is near
Count them as dear.
