…actually, why not?
the sun once in bloom
now alive, hidden
in a land of green and black and gold
O, what grace is given
to know
all that we have known
and seen amongst us all
paved along the waves
once crossed, bound in stone
built in those days
when we still knew forever
a time of tears and laughter
flesh and bone
not lost
but no longer known
and so it goes
or so they say
the bells chime
the wind blows
and time is born once more.
© 2015 threegoodwords
a hot flash of recognition
clear as cold milk
taken out with child’s hands
drunk in icy gulps
like music
to the blood-orange birth
of another cycle
laced with hazy blue
and grey and white
back when a year was
endless days x 365 = time
and time and time.
that and that and that
was always there
yet with life so busy
and things to be done
the snows drifted higher
the canyons deeper
until a sudden jab of desert heat
lays all bare
and time opens wide
from past to present, future
where here and here
and here again
hidden treasures abound
brilliant bracelets and flashing crowns
proof of glory once owned
for an eternal moment
now displayed in silent halls
of days and time remembered
fragments dismembered
to memory:
when was this kingdom lost
or rather, was it ever won?
as sovereign
how and why resign the sceptre
refuse the ring
and hide the crown?
what madness is this?
truly, one wonders.
alas, the scrolls unfurl
more and more
crystals cusping
over thresholds ancient-old
descending into time and time
and time again
singing spring
to once-known winter
calling fall
ruby-red and golden
to tales of summer
high and blazing
twice known
thrice remembered
twined to one.
© 2015 threegoodwords
quiet steps
across sunny stone
scaling the depth of summer
white stairs
solemnly clear
bright
in their commemoration
of a cruel time
now used daily
as a resting place
by those visiting from abroad.
*
after sunset
voices rise
to glasses raised
laughter rippling
across fountains
sparkling in fanning light
lives lived
among strangers
together
on ancient steps
once built by a great power
then everpresent
now lying low
among the weathered stone
remembered
but no longer known.
© 2015 threegoodwords
 
 
green golden meadows
spread lush out
into the sky
seamed dark by cool pines
lemony white
a butterfly
fluttering in bright bushes
over at the birches, an argument
one nest chirps, the other disagrees
and two cats doze in the sun
listening
while mother and daughter
walk by quietly
one calm, the other happy
that first taste of ice cream
remember?
how the days go by
peaceful, serene.
© 2015 threegoodwords
like rivulets of silk
darkly smooth in
mellow sweetness
the soul of a melody
is lodged deep down
your heart and spine
right in the marrow bone
and you wonder for three seconds:
why fear?
for in the depth
there is a height so vast
so far
you’re the prophet
with the chariots of fire
the dark lady worshiped
with lute and lyre
the throned god ruling
the liquid gyre
all those pasts layed to rest
calling quietly
to be remembered, known
aspired
so yes,
this is the moment
this is the time, there is no other
there is always, only
now
now
now
.
© 2015 threegoodwords
Words, images & collages tossed from a window.
Essays, notes & interviews on why literary fiction matters to human living
small press. great publishing.
but don't take my word for it
Home hub & scribble space of Prose Writer & Poet Kristiane Weeks-Rogers (she/hers), author of poetry collection: 'Self-Anointment with Lemons'.
A journey from one end of the bookshelf to the other
three good words 