words words words – Page 34

April 24, 2015

if

the questions we all ask ourselves
quietly, silently
terrified
or shy, defiant:

if I write
will they read
if I tell
will they listen
if I am
will I be

good enough
brave enough
that one true thing:
au.then.tic?

always, always
like a river rushing, raging
spreading into deltas of doubt

if I do
will I deliver
if I see
will they believe
if I try
will I succeed?

maybe in all this
the point is to not give in
to keep on going
to try and try again
until you can finally plant that mustard-seed.

April 7, 2015

new season

there it is now
the new season
where loves are lost and made
spring, yea, verily
spring is in the air
almost
buds blossoming
bright and wide
cracking frosted shells to life

aye, me
no sad hours
long are the days of the sun
rising, setting
making time run
while at great rivers we cry
and smile cheeky smiles
growing vegetable loves
on the soggy banks of our quotidian
measured out in coffee cups

and yet
fear not
ye wise fools rushing
in and out of all things lovely
happy are the times
and long are the hours
of this long-lasting
earthbound
fire
.

April 2, 2015April 3, 2015

twice over

that feeling of having
walked through the alphabet
twice over

that sense that I’m
probably
repeating myself
once again

there are certain words
that crop up
over and over

and I’m waiting for
that blade of light
to sear through the clouds
dense and rising
with the awful dark
absence
of inspiration
…

March 30, 2015

one in many

‘sooth to the apple long in waiting
loaded dice in the garden walled
hoping for want of alter-
-natives come to the mount
hailing the greatest of all

two in the step of an altar
leaves spread crimson on graven gold
sky speaking curses to the one in many
lives lived ceaseless, manifold

then in sunlight one asking maybe
a wrong word written read and heard
in the dimness of a night’s torment
many things have been spoken
but few, so few, foretold.

March 30, 2015

two springs

two springs flow
clear against ancient bows
those sacred curves
rushing, slipping
silent-secret in shining liquid
quenching the sun
wetting monuments of once hottest blood:
molten stone erupting
oozing softly to the shore, burning
birthing an island in virgin foam.

seasons passed unheeded
storms raged and poured
and jagged peaks softened
deep as velvet, curved
seamed with crystalline white
bright-mystic black
silent against the endless surf;

yet deeper, and deeper still: the living heart
blooming bright against emerald blue
vaulted high and crisp
an untouched world
singing light and brilliant with wind-beat song.