songbirds cower together
huddled to avoid detection;
like a dog i pet one with my
pointer finger
under the chin and across
the wings; such soft feathers,
like baby’s down, covering…
i would protect your song with
my heart should you decide
to give voice to your sweet
solitudes-
for there’s nothing left within
this space but quiet
and your soft tunes, but tales
of long ago, bring peace to this
brooding soul
Tag: art
venerable hell
within the gates of pain that lock
my soul to the post of past transgressions
i pay this penance for that which was
altered when the sun shone, and the moon
was ripe with strawberries and songbirds…
would that i release this soul to find the freedom
that dogs it so, yet apology’s song sounds
weak when presented upon winter’s
cold blow, now nothing but pain remains
within the heart that lingers still upon
days past, haunted by that which was
already accepted as fate
and drawn down into the cold entrance
of a venerable, indefatigable hell
transition
a mighty wind blows
and voices of change
haunt this graveyard
of the past, like bits of
stolen memory
from long ago…
as i walk amid these
newly carved gravestones,
as the moon full of
what’s been closed lights
the change before me,
i linger between the past
and the future
breathing in what is to be…
for there’s nothing now but
holes dug into the ground
of my faulty memory…
so i linger now
beneath this moon
of change
and await the oncoming
transitions
a smile
silvers of hope slid into the
empty spaces so quietly
she hardly knew they were
there, yet one morning she
awoke to a different collection
of thoughts, some differing feeling
that was both uneasy and comforting
to touch…
these shards of lightness
illuminated the dusty corners of her
heart with a new kind of bright
what is this? she pondered as
her mouth curled unfamiliarly
upwards into what could only be characterized as a smile…
darkness
legs running, feet upon pavement,
pounding, thumping, throbbing,
excitedly moving to get away
from that which haunts silent
footsteps, darkened corners
shadows that linger-
following, falling, cackling
there’s no distance that can
divide the space between
no amount of escape
can split the horrors of the heart
from the worries of the mind
so the spirit runs, feverishly hoping
to find solace in the lingering nothing
that becomes the darkness
that we all must face
autumn
a dark shade of gray
hovers in the heavens
as clouds, heavy with rain,
dance with the blowing wind…
this moment of song,
blusters and spins-
each breath, a cold exhale,
leaving nothing of summer
but colorful memories that
linger now
as detritus upon the ground
change
the earth is moving
and all that was, will be no
more,
and all that i am is melting
like snow upon the mountainside-
changing to be reborn this
soul
finds solace in the ever loving
divinity of peace and acceptance
as the wind rustles the leaves
and the rain cleans the summer
soaked concrete
and all that was once brown and
weathered will fall away
to be replaced by green again
eternal moments
flowing flames of burning candles
dance upon this heart,
newly awakened from dark and
fitful slumber to find songs
of love playing upon harp strings
in the distance…
And all that was once muddled within
the dusty corners of thought
shine like rainbow filled diamonds
upon the eternal moments
divined for secret quiet
book pages
book pages, old and smelling
of mildew and decay,
line this heart with
unknown conclusions…
once printed beyond the stars,
i linger now and await
what words might unfold
themselves
as the scenario of time plays-
and all that I once thought I knew
about character development
lies wasted at my feet;
i’ve lost the plot thread now
and there’s just no going back
to reread the pages
so hovering about, waiting for
the page to turn, for the plot to
reveal itself, this heart silently
stands by, with bated breath, for
the next chapter
shirtsleeve
hidden emotions inconveniently
emerge upon this heart’s sleeve
throbbing , beating, bleeding
dripping away in a red
fury until all that can be seen
is this spot of fever
almost ancient in disease
there’s no hiding the swell,
the absolute certainty
that overtakes all else,
until what remains is but a
vision, a version, of self
doused in emotion’s flame
set on devouring itself…
this public display, this shirtsleeve,
this pain that cannot be helped
it’s never ending, never quiet, never
lost … but lingers still sometimes
hidden , sometimes for the world
to see, red and raw and ready
to bleed
the SIBYL'S SONG 