The Inexplicable Story

As recalled by Geoffrey Chaucer while traveling with the Queen

“Hold fast the lantern Beauregard, her lifted skirt sees light of day!”,
while as I told the dog to sit, I looked the other way.

For all is right in Flanders when castles turn to shades of poor,
but things just got sidewayser, when once her panties hit the floor…

She grabbily garbled gobbly-gook guffawing at her silly scene,
till seeing lace around her shoes, she blushed in peach and loudly screamed!

“My dear! My God! what happened here, how did this come to be?”,
and as her crown came tumbling down I closed my eyes so not to see.

“Oh Geoffrey! Geoff! Good gracious! My! Good Heavens and a cracker stew!
It seems I’ve lost my underpants and kicked them there to you!”

I glanced in shock upon the floor and there beside my muddy boot,
laid lace and floral lingerie, lightly smeared with blackened soot.

“Dear Queen!” my broken cracking voice exclaimed in instant shock,
how could it be at 90 plus her Majesty can walk?

Let alone the giggling presence to lose her clothes in Palace Square.
I raised the panties with a stick and held them in the air.

“Oh my!”, she squealed, “Those must be mine! How will this ever do?”,
while grabbing quick the lacey stuff, and politely stepping through…

Ruffle pressing prattling, she stoically stood and raised a grin,
“If ever I come back to your city, I pray that you’ll let me in.

Good day….”

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Filed under History, Poetry

The Elm, the Dusk, and the Nightingale

Day recoils in silence. Autumn’s warmth gives way to dusk.
Beneath this meadow’s elm I pause, released in freedom from the husk of what this life’s become.
Summer wanes in crescent waves shaped to crash on winter’s shore,
haunting sweeter memories, from here within my open door as soul reflects the sum.

Golden sparks of eyelash glint through whispers of their closing,
that as the long rays reach for me, this tired mind retreats in dozing, beneath an ochre sky.
Subtle breezes, hushed and curved, kiss wisps of hair in amber glint,
draws an easy charcoaled line around this space where pausing’s spent, shyly asking “why?”

This gift for quiet passing, this time where I belong,
is all my heart is asking, heaving sighs in weary song, as praying just to stay.
Suspended weightless, bathed in dusk, the nightingale decries her mate,
comes to me on rush of wings to ease my passing state, till echoed light drifts grey.

Till darkness does enfold me, till crickets warn the length of night,
I wake to find my lonely peace draped o’er my arms in sparkled light retrieved from evening’s dawn.
Now calmly through the lea I stroll, pausing, counting, dew’s sweet scent,
toward home and bed my steps oblige, emptied in the moment’s spent and carried on her song.

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Filed under Autumn, Dreams, Nature, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

The Marker

Marker

How did the stain of past life find its place upon this silent grave?
What aged the emerald crescent’s arc, kindly blotched the written stave?

What of its words and heartfelt kiss
that left a summer’s rain amiss?

What countenance divine embraced
this site befitting, this resting place?

Through what redacted soulful truths
did heaven ride to seal the proofs?

Who stood upon this sullen ground
in saddened prayer, in whispered sound?

What happened here? Who knew the scene?
What time sustained and held between
the moments of the resting?
What moments from the fight?
Who stoops above this sacred stone,
in haunt and love each night…?

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Filed under Angels, Family, Memory, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Where Once I Died

Thereupon the bridge stood I,
above the crowd’s tumultuous storm,
in offering, what hope had I
against their hapless raging form
that crashed in waves upon the piers
once placed by honest men,
now torn from ragged indolence
of hatred’s depth again.
In lacking faith and understanding,
lost from knowledge kept,
they clamored high in selfishness
not owning all the tears we wept.

So to hope and value pressed,
my hands across their sky,
I tried imparting all my strength
in knowledge, that they too might try
to come to understand the pain
and sacrifice of the few
that stacked, for them, their soapbox pulpits
high to get a better view,
born on shoulders of the past
and those who gave it all
in hope to birth this great tomorrow,
where none would here the tyrant’s call.

But hope misplaced to ignorance
distorts across the sands of time,
degrades to soulless decadence
when all they know is “mine”.

Standing high above the mass,
arms spread wide with calming tone,
plead did I of petulance
to find compassion, here alone.
As the roaring din grew faint
to hear my crying plead,
I saw the flash, heard the crack
from which all hope did fast recede.
Mid-breath in phrase “this hope is mine”,
the thud collapsed my chest,
exploding truth without a breath,
the bullet never came to rest
but caught my soul, eternal,
and cast me heaven-high,
as upon my fallen body gazed,
I watched my mortal image die.

I stood upon that bridge in hope.
I laid my soul to bear.
I gave my heart to save them,
receiving just their leaden stare.
No matter recollection,
their numbers grow the great divide
that separates few honest men
upon the bridge where once I died.

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Filed under Perspective, Poetry

Summer Shade

Waste not this rapturous seed content to revel in the summer sun,
but to the cooling grass beneath, beside cool water’s run.
Embrace in arms’ lock, tangled hair, breathe a kiss of sweet love made,
enrapt in velvet green beneath strong arms of kind elm’s shade.

Stem this furrowed brow between the lapping waves upon the rill.
Soothe this anxious heat content, in summer’s dewy shadow fill.
Dress this long enamored heart a moment’s rest in whispered rift
that ebbs between our dreaming eyes, content in love’s sweet gift.

Hold this longing’s cover high, revealing only summer’s musk,
that by this cooling season’s shade we’ll linger long till dusk.

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Filed under Dreams, Nature, Perspective, True Love

To Life!

Spill me o’er the crystal falls where eons stretch to hold!
Kindly beckon courage from the iron will in stories told!

Grant me one last flight on wings above the alpine valleys low!
Spill my heart between the seams where mountain shadowed waters flow!

Dance my spirit o’er stormy tops in fields of azure skies!
Dash the color from the wounds there left beneath these fading eyes!

For all that I experience,
I am the subtle cause!
For all that I endure through life,
still grows a purpose from the loss!

Oh! Bathe me white in frozen streams!
Echo hearts’ resplendent joys!
Although I’ll leave as silvered man,
I lived here as a boy!

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Filed under Nature, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Carousel

Carousel.PNG

Standing in a summer’s mist,
early morning heat and dew,
a carousel abandoned,
ebbing from a fairground’s stew.

Echoes of calliope,
hushed in rusting pipes,
risen by the subtle breeze,
groans in tempered gripes.

Soprano tinseled screams escape
the platform’s gentle rolling,
whispers stitched among the chants,
Gregorian and tolling.

O’er the stays of canvas frayed,
reds and blues tease gently, torn,
rounding boards ornate and wide,
tarnished crackle, sadly worn.

Leaden mirrored center blinds,
ghostly grey and steel,
stirring passing images,
tintype memories, laughter’s squeal.

Oaken massive platform stained
with seasoned mud and puddled rain,
rusting mounts of tired ponies,
saddened in their lonely pain.

Dare I not to step aboard,
as history’s watch is mercy’s keeping,
so gather witness to my soul,
for all my childhood dreams there sleeping.

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Filed under Dreams, History, Memory, Perspective, Poetry