Contemplation

Quiet contemplation
A mind that never stops
Thoughts of how life changes
Memories.

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Storms

Storms have no vows to speak,
refineries of ejecta and longing,
streaked with insurmountable ugliness and beauty –
polarities is what I’m talking about.
The voyeur in love with chastity, the bones unhollow
and growing on skin as hair,
light as a panther walking on the promenade.
It’s all to me, quite riveting.

Coming Home

From waterfalls to stepping stones, meandering
across history’s bones, I am halted by a sound,
the sound of mandolins.

‘In The Fire’

Crackling
fierce
and starving flames
lick up the air around me.

‘Mesmerized’

A sublime shade of red
Clings gleefully to your lips

‘Understanding’

A journey in words
Like a walk in the woods

‘Three-Ring Circus’

Carnival
music plays
Round and round it goes.
In and out of ears
Washing over brains.

‘Still I Hold You Dear’

There was a rip within my heart
when you did depart
A tear that I do wear
Now that you’re no longer near—
Still I hold you dear.

‘Tangle’

Entangled in vices
The tangled webs of vice
Addiction—
clamors
—for our souls.

‘If Life Were a Dream…’

If life were a dream…
Would yours be a fairy tale?
Or something else?

‘In His Face II’

Behold,
magnificence!
Heaven’s image borne
Adorned
in majesty.

‘Enemy Within’

Positioned on the front lines—
primed for battle.
Gaze fixed forward
—focus
fierce.

‘Memory’

Impressed into my shores,
no distant memory.

‘In His Face I’

Scaling your expression
Scrutinizing your eyes
Does your heart beat?

‘Attention’

Concrete-laden, stretched a mile
Wide and spacious, great support.
Sturdy confidant.

‘O, Voice’

Voices come and voices go,
Scuffling sandals to-and-fro,
People scoff in my direction.
Filthy!

‘Letters’

 

Meaning fastened to your characters,
Order demanded in your line,
Capitals are no lower actors,
Left alone you cannot shine.

‘Cutting Edge’

Moment to moment
we live on the cusp of glory
—the cutting edge of life

Quiet Contemplation Again

nidcd.nih.gov

 

At times the words rattle in my head
Not always making any sense of things
Yet as I offer them a means of escape
I drop on the page and see what springs.

Musical Contemplation

There are times when a song strikes a note
When we ponder all that we might feel inside
Lyrics might not mean what we think we heard
Yet the melody still takes our mind on a ride.