Monthly Archives: April 2013

Behind This Broken Wall

Behind this broken wall I stand,
breathing deep, M1 in hand
with bullets whizzing by,
plaster forced to dancing high.
Here am I bound to reclaim this land.

Between the beats of heart I reel
in memory grasped and how I’d feel
to touch her hand in mine,
to feel her eyes on mine…
Then mortar blasts! My mind to steel!

“Move! Move!”, I heard the cry,
instinctually crouching, did truly fly
across the open alley.
The “thud”, the scream, the endless tally
grows, at hedge I turn to watch him die.

Some of us are lucky, blessed,
never found beneath the mess
of surging blood and pain,
feeling life so slowly drained,
and yet our fortunes’ only guessed.

Again I’m caught, as mortars fall,
and voices shouting, chopped, they call
the only words I know,
“raus” – get out! I’ve got to go,
as a glimpse of three I catch, quite tall.

I wonder if their nightmare’s mine.
I fight to push them cross the line
of being living men,
is it me or is it them?
I stand and fire three shots, they’re fine

and lie there in the winter’s mud,
as again I run against the thuds
of shelling in the town,
in heartache I could drown
to broken doorway with all my blood.

Intact, I can’t recall the flash
of steps and shots through seconds passed.
I hear the echoed boom,
and fear the shaking gloom,
so pray that this might end at last.

Behind this broken wall I stand,
pain of what I do in hand,
until the silence breaks
and kindly, quietly takes
my hopes in peace to end this stand.

Sarge calls, “fall out, it’s clear!”,
so softly step through rubble here,
to streets so choked
with death and smoke
and so it seems I’ve killed my fear.

I stand at broken corner, found
silenced by the squeaking sound
of only rolling tanks.
In silence I give silent thanks
and step beyond this killing ground.

This bloodied morning, grey in mist,
decries humility, despair left kissed
for those today we’ve lost
in honor at great cost,
these men we’ve loved and sorely miss.

Behind this broken wall I stand,
my truth and life in hand…

In honor of the 517th Parachute Regimental Combat Team – WWII

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Filed under History, Memory, Poetry

Afternoons

A lascivious smile my spring love moons,
when moments quiet the afternoons.
In shadowed loft where time grows still,
my love and I, unleashed, do fill
the hours with desire.

A simple touch, a hand that lingers,
a wanton look and taste of fingers,
the kindling of this fire.

The gentle pheromone rush that shames
the candle to her dancing flame,
draws shadows twisted, entangled, one,
as hair and sweat and flesh do sum
this room removed from late-day light.
Two bodies one, to souls in flight
to where the ether flies above,
to dance in spiritual locks of love.

Flesh dissolved to earthly means
as hands and fingers push the seams
away –
till passion’s kiss will only stay
to bind us to this earth,
all else is gone and so immersed
our conscience rises from the rest
to explode in heaven’s light as blessed!

Such passion wages war with time,
halts the moment’s temporal rhyme,
holds each note in measure long,
then synch’s in downbeat’s heartfelt song!

Wrestling, grasping, scent and flesh,
tangled, holding, till nothing’s left
but two in melting washed repose,
heart beats pounding in ecstasy’s throes.

Then slowly day resolves the room
and brings the peace of afternoon,
reflects a sparkled glimmer kept
in eyes of love and teardrop wept.

For two whose souls belong as one,
in passion’s love can call the sum
of all their hearts can feel –
but only in the lays of soul
can love’s sweet truth acknowledge full
the depth of what is real.

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Eternal Walls I’ll Climb

In ancient times I’ve held you,
I’ve traveled far, upon the sea or over fields of green,
to return to you from conquests vast,
as viking, knight, and warrior seen.

I’ve traveled through millennia
to right the wrongs of an endless love,
that’s been tragic, lost, removed too young,
yet no distance quells this love.

Neither time, nor earthly displacement
can conquer this kindling fire,
for ours, the very words were written
of a passion and desire
that others mimic Shakespearean,
or prose there crafted on a moonlit night,
for ours, the fabric through all time
to lovers lost or tragic, have bathed in such a light!

Our story lived throughout our lives,
in every historic setting,
has found us here, in each other’s arms,
without a thought’s regretting,
for our story must be told!

For you my love eternal,
eternal walls I’ll climb,
to find you and to love you,
this love is ours, sublime!

Eternally yours…

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Submerged

"submerged"  image by Ray Ferrer

“submerged”
image by Ray Ferrer

Quench my thirst oh mother time,
loose my worry along the line
between the temporal poles of love,
between this push of day,
this rhyme of life that presses so.
Hold me just above.

Grant this moment’s fleeting bliss
not leave me, hold me, softly kiss
and keep me infinitely bound
with my heart in sway.
Fill my soul to know just this,
this one – single – moment found.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
the incredible image comes courtesy of Ray Ferrer – http://urbanwallart.wordpress.com

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Filed under Perpective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Evening Rain

Forms distort amongst the mist
between the drops of rain.
Light withdraws where once it kissed
and quelled horizon’s pain.

Evening draws its dusky robe
to cloak grey shadows in looming night,
as stars appear around the globe,
but here are masked in raindrop’s flight.

This is but silent healing,
as every moment is feeling here
the hope of life tomorrow
and the truth that spring is dealing near.

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Afton’s Ashes

Ashes strewn by wind and weather,
from funeral pyre ‘cross hills of heather,
last mount be mine upon these rocks,
reduced to only watch my flocks
from this distant lonely brae.

Yet with the breeze, freer to roam
in ashen form, to seaside loam,
o’er lea and rill, through scented birch,
across the lane and round the church
where once they laid my body down.

Six carried me up to this mount
while bagpipes played and left the count
of clock just set past three.

And tho’ my brothers kept her home,
my Mary cried, “He’ll not go alone!
for I am wed to thee!”

The cairns along the path and rill
grew that day and stand there still,
holding place to honor me.

Then as my bones laid top that perch,
the piping waned to silenced search
of tolling church bells’ ring…
and so through sobs did Mary sing.

In gentle touch of fire’s life,
while softly sang my precious wife,
the pyre rose to carry me.

So raised in silken smoky spire,
I looked long the dell below this pyre
in sadness, I was free.

Yet gently gathered on the ground,
my earthly bonds there flitted ‘round
to touch my Mary’s face.

That through her tears and gentle song
I knew my soul would keep as long
as Mary graced this place.

Today my flocks still grace the lea
where by sweet Afton my Mary and me
found love among the winding rills.

Our birch shade kept for holding hands,
ties heart to hers and with this land
our destiny yet to fill.

So I now sing in low remorse,
echoes ‘cross this hill and course
of gentle rills that grace her sleep.

That when she’s done and joins the mount,
her ashen beauty mixed in the count
of what our histories’ keep –
Then o’er brae and lea we’ll sleep
The again we’ll love so deep.

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Meditation Gardens

Quiet setting juxtaposed to Shanghai’s metro scene,
but for one peaceful afternoon,
this treasure bends my heart serene.

Ancient texts in classrooms held in museum’s pressured pallor,
statuettes in work or war
echo truths in lesson’s valor.

Reflecting pond near silent stoops, echo strength to pause,
so stir the golden mirrored fin
rippling purpose in waves of cause.

Peace be mine, to escape, to learn,
granted calm in what I yearn.
So mends the fabric of this day,
so fills my heart in every way.

Yet as I overflow in hope, ancient lessons gather ‘round,
call to duty living merit
and life walked o’er this sacred ground,

that carry I in moments hence, values true at decision’s point,
to grant peace and understanding
at every moment’s joint.

Day ends, and through the gate I go, returned to city’s din,
yet carry with me all I’ve learned,
to share in passing, every grin.

In reflection of Meditation Gardens in Shanghai, China – Oct 2006

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Filed under Perpective, Photography, Poetry, Universal Soul