I am the guardian Of other people’s treasures. Trapped into storing by ghosts I cling to. How do I untangle, Release these pieces Of their hopes Concretized?
Pervasive sadness wakes my nights & smothers my days. Nothing wrong except the news of the world, and circumstances.
Against the fecund spring with its greens and blossoms, the gravestones announce the coming winter freeze. The shortening days and path. are hidden in the dark. Little time left to claim joy. and just be.
Friendship Beauty assaults me, joy bounces into my hands, and my heart at the long-absent voice. Like the greening and blossoms of spring , joy embraces me, sings to me, grasps my hand. I hear and feel tenderness..
A poem I wrote many years ago.
I eat my time like honey drooling down unto my tongue. We live a stone's length - (name, birth-death) While inbetween we cram and crush such sweetness in
Years have a shape; they throb and ache: the daily step, the monthly debt. Mornings rise and afternoons serve - hidden tears and blazing joys. Wasted moments and Summers end, Autumns harvest and Winters task - the long lost times dissolve, dissipate and Springs secrete unburdened hope. Years have a shape and accumulate, seasons repeat and propagate the tears and joys that shape our lives, the days and memories we consecrate.
Sometimes the mirror moves showing me what I’d rather not see. Memories shift and reform revealing different stories, painfully clear now. We wear such narrow glasses spotlighting one version, blind to and blurring peripheral possibilities.
I wrote this in university, after realizing that I could write something and call it a poem, that I had a poetic voice.
The Jester smiles and grimaces - juggling balls, words. emotions. People applaud the gesture.
It is the time of green mists surrounding grey branches as trees begin again. Daffodils abound, and dandelions replicate, reflecting the brightening sun. The earth is warming as buds move to blooming. and green shoots thrust upwards. Rejoice, rejoice, rejoice!
The reassuring bitterness of cold coffee while waiting for news
As transient as a breath or the cresting of a wave, our days flash by. from dust to dust with this sparkling lovely moment we cling to and must surrender.