Monthly Archives: February 2014

Poet Cow

Stories told at sunset’s arc
when last the barn doors come to close,
echo frames throughout the day,
recalled in honor, artful prose
that’s spoke in hushing laughter
yet cast about in formal style,
applauded when the speaker bows
returning to the trough a while.

Amidst the hay and feed there,
the poet cow enthralls in song,
crafted day’s end stories
collected from the farm’s sweet throng
of horses bound to duty,
of cows molested milking tales,
of mice in chase and cats who beg
to steal a sip from milking pales,
of chicks and hens who peck about
in counting grains of sand,
of dogs who walk in mending fences
beneath the gentle farmer’s hand.
Oh! The stories conjured,
each verse with vim and vigor flows,
weaves the country’s subtle life
with dreams caught twixt the piglet’s toes.

The poet cow in bashful eye
unmasks his soul when dusk is past,
turns the stanzas fluently
till all nod off and sleep is cast.
Then to himself he mutters low,
in Shakespeare tone and manner borrowed,
“Good Night, Good night! … that I shall say
good night till it be morrow.”


Filed under Nature, Perspective, Poetry

Grandfather Clock

Silence drones the space between
the ticking of the clock,
grants eternal patience
swept in pendulum’s play to mock.

The tension of the winding spring
stands the air to crème,
as hopeful hesitation calms
the pensive chimes to dream.

Built to serve a purpose.
Left to witness life.
Counting every breaking hour
twixt sweeps of joy and strife.

Dusted here in tender care
by shaking grey and lucid hands,
in hopes to hear its chimes once more
and toll this hall’s passing, grand,
for yet another hour.


Filed under History, Memory, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Surrender – an elegy

Surrender to the evening shade
that creeps from blind to blind.
Surrender to the deepest fade
that grants sweet peace in kind.
Surrender with each aching bone
drawn tight through day’s duress.
Surrender to this moment lone,
and to your soul confess –

For deep the shadows filter long
as silence stirs the mist,
where whispers in this aging song
breathe the gift of day’s end kiss.

Release to time eternal
that immortal may your soul become.
Transcend in blossoms vernal
through waves of thought where dreams do run.
Grant the ether heart’s release
from all that’s earthly bound.
Rise to home in sweetest peace
that there in love your soul may drown.


Filed under Memory, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Of Greatness Calling

What follows is a Heroic Crown Sonnet (Sonnet Redouble)
The Heroic Crown sonnet is based on a Crown of Sonnets.

A Crown is a sequence of Sonnets usually addressed to one person and/or concerned with a single theme. Each sonnet explores one aspect of the theme. The last line of the previous is used as the first line of the next. The final line of the final sonnet is the first line of the first sonnet.

The Heroic Sonnet then goes one step further in that it consists of a Crown of Sonnets containing fourteen Sonnets. The fifteenth Sonnet is literally the first lines of the previous fourteen Sonnets.

In the case of this Heroic Crown Sonnet, the structure is of an English Sonnet:
Octet (1st 8 lines) in abab, cdcd
Volta (turn)
Sestet (last 6 lines) in efef, gg

~ please enjoy ~

Of Greatness Calling

Sonnet I – The Seed

Herald kings in knightly squares
where light may shine on youth’s one chance
to leave, to hope and earn such wares
beyond the pale eyed squire’s glance.
Find amidst the people’s crowd
one blue eyed boy, blonde and tan,
whose heart beats strong and sorely loud
with dreams of knighthood as a man.
So be a dream at gate’s parade
where sure his heart must hold him still?
Yet dreams tonight in summer’s glade
grow amid his strength and will,
that from his stars and purpose torn,
where through their very nature, born.


Sonnet II – The Dream

Where through their very nature, born
are dreams that fatten deepest rest
in granting day and work till worn
that character will strengthen best.
At the plow or cutter’s wheel
the hopeful heroes often sum
in misty bouts of strength and steel
as victors stand and maidens come.
Yet here within the toil of day
the spark of dreamer takes its hold,
begs the boy not look away,
tho’ strain runs deep in winter’s cold,
and pleads to dream beyond such cares,
to hold in hand all virtue’s wares.


Sonnet III – Struggle

To hold in hand all virtue’s wares
he scoffs at such inside this fate,
curses that not one star cares
nor grants him more than gifts in hate
that stem from pompous masters,
that coldly leave his scars and burns
that drain his hope in thatch and plasters
within the trades he hates, but learns.
Yet quietly does his courage hide
within the fabric of his heart
that lends acceptance where deride
the work he does in place and part.
For deep within some spark is born,
yet for truth might still be torn.


Sonnet IV –Love

Yet for truth might still be torn,
tis love that slowly bends his heart.
By virtues steal and passion born
he dreams of one, and hopes the part.
Yet fancy free is she, he spies,
determined to her eyes impress,
through courage show, yet truth decries
his poverty witnessed in his dress.
Tho’ she’s captured in his smile
she knows no way to meet,
as she is king’s and fortune’s child,
so certain seems her hope’s defeat,
for to her stead and stage be true,
counted royal blood in blue.


Sonnet V – Amiss

Counted royal blood in blue.
he slowly comes to know her name.
The princess?!! How could this be true?
So to his cursed stars lays blame.
“What manifest of hope is this
that drains my very heart life’s blood?
When true love granted found amiss,
my stars, my fate is serpent’s blood!”
Yet strength in spirit pure and strong,
he holds to values truth and kind,
hopes still she feels and so does long
to one day be the love he’ll find.
Yet hers in marble stone and wood,
upon ancestors’ greatness stood.


Sonnet VI – Fate

Upon ancestors’ greatness stood
the core of king and valiant knight,
where truth and valor granted good
the courage favored through the fight.
Upon a thatched and chimneyed roof
assassin’s arrows were aimed with care
in hopes to kill the king on hoof
as paraded in the courtyard square.
Yet here with purposed work in hand
his stars set blade smith skills to bear
that caught in eye, assassin’s band,
undone before all witness there.
“Dear king, my service bound to you,
by life and living, impure or true”.


Sonnet VII – Knight

By life and living, impure or true
the king indebted for his life,
granted knighthood to this son
and gave his daughter’s hand, as wife.
Amazing stars that bend and tell
the story of this poor boys plight,
that brought a heaven from his hell
and granted him his dream of knight.
Be known that he was more than man,
as came to lead a legion’s war,
respect and love at comrade’s hand
propelled in honor something more.
Yet love for those by which he stood
left dead in battlefield or wood.


Sonnet VIII – Battle

Left dead in battlefield or wood
were sons and fathers, honest men,
that through each death he understood
the pain of war and battle’s sin.
Into his soul grew great remorse
that questioned why a tyrant’s pride
would rise to steal, or plot a course
to enslave or kill where freedom’s cried!
Till standing tall against the burn
of blackened hate and tyrant’s rage,
his sword raised that all would return,
laid hate to waste, with final page!
His mortal wounds defined it all,
truth and valor stood one tall.


Sonnet IX – Death

Truth and valor stood one tall
that free men could denounce the reign
of selfish rage against the call
to live in peace and truth again.
By mortal wound his breathing faint
at deathbed with his wife and love,
blessed by heaven’s stars and saint,
he gave his last to God above,
“I am just a mortal man,
a simple child of your soul,
granted truths to understand
and find the purpose in this role”
Thus passed in arms of true love’s wife,
that songs of glory blessed his life.


Sonnet X – Honor

That songs of glory blessed his life,
they sung throughout the village square.
Where now his saddened love and wife
was gathered with her father there.
His honor held in victor’s glory
through poems spoke ripe on every lip.
His duty blessed in valiant story
called from mead and every sip.
Yet still memorial must be true
and captured in the point of light
where what was shared between these two
would timeless stand for honored knight.
So lastly stood in canvas’d call,
in portrait’s frame and honored hall.


Sonnet XI – The Portrait

In portrait’s frame and honored hall,
commissioned from the artist’s hand
that knew the boy when once was small,
now knight and honored o’er the land.
With gentle stroke and greatest care,
through eye of love and pigment pure,
brought to life the noble pair,
brought to heart this greatest cure,
that once beheld by king and queen,
once revealed in public square,
could only hold what true loves glean
when hand in hand, ascending there
on stars of love and sweep of life,
ennobled with his queen, his wife.


Sonnet XII – Legacy

Ennobled with his queen, his wife,
in portrait’s honored canvas mount,
granted all great hope for life
to strive beyond the simple count
of stars cast far in fate’s lone sky,
to rise to what is great in each,
to never falter or question why,
but rise in spirit and stretch in reach.
For theirs was more than glory,
more than songs and honor’s dove.
Theirs was one of life’s true story
cast from hope and truest love,
that in the couples’ eyes of mirth,
here all shall know his honest worth.


Sonnet XIII – Promise

Here all shall know his honest worth
much more than any since before,
as his was granted by his birth
and by the stars from which he tore
a path against what laws had deemed,
a chance to fight for heart’s desire,
the strength to rise when hope it seemed
abandoned heart and life’s bright fire.
Yet here his echo lingers on,
cast that all may rise in same,
that we can fill our fate’s sweet song
and to our better stars lay claim.
So count our souls in honest worth,
by values truth through death, from birth.


Sonnet XIV – The Calling

By values truth through death, from birth
we stand to do what’s right.
In such, our voice knows true its worth,
that with that truth we stand to fight
as free men in a world of hate
where tyranny must surely fall,
and loves be lain at heaven’s gate
when heaven proudly gives the call,
that we are bound to life in love,
that we are here to give and learn,
that guided by sweet heaven’s dove
will stand in place, will stand in turn
bestowed with honor’s glory there,
herald kings in knightly squares…


Sonnet XV – Crown

Herald kings in knightly squares
there through their very nature, born
to hold in hand all virtue’s wares
that for truth might still be torn.
Counted royal blood in blue
upon ancestors’ greatness stood,
by life and living, impure or true
left dead in battlefield or wood.
Yet truth and valor stood one tall
that songs of glory blessed his life.
In portrait’s frame and honored hall
ennobled with his queen, his wife.
Here all shall know his honest worth
by values truth through death, from birth.


Filed under Poetry, Sonnet, True Love, Universal Soul

The Road Home – a Union Soldier’s Journey

Journey Home

The road stretched long from hell to home,
pained by wheels of carrion dust
stirred thick in ghostly steps of war
while pulling canon’s hateful rust.

Lilac essence lined the trail
denied in spring the love to bloom,
yet heaved in whispered sacrament
between fresh graves, within death’s tomb.

No hint of living soul was seen,
nor stir of sound in mournings’ air,
yet held for hope this hell would pass
and providence lead him there –

There, to home where one heart stood
in skirt’s coquettish smiles.
There, where memory held the gate
to hearth beyond these hellish miles.

Time moved on with no such time,
each step a blur to steps in count,
till raised in climb and lifted hope
upon ascent of Acorn’s mount.

There peeked through trees the clearing
atop the Acorn’s rocky perch,
that drove to knees a tear’s relief!
Below! Home’s valley and quiet church!

On knees atop the final mount
through tears in shuddered gasps of breath,
his love, he knew, returned him
from the blood of battle and throes of death.

Now in morning’s sunlit dew
how sure this sacred moment charms,
that greets release for one, for two.
Toward home to fall in loving arms!

The road behind stretched long from hell,
from death and pain and friendships torn,
now silenced cannon’s whispers tell
the story of a union born.


Filed under History, Perspective, Photography, Poetry, True Love


Paused before the liquid timbre
of still reflecting glass,
a subtle riot carries on
retreating to the pass
where safe between the tone of youth
and wisdom’s keen desire,
squarely sits the aged denial
that pissed away life’s fire.

For there in mirror’s honest pond
the lines of age creep in.
There behind that child’s smile
the truth of time has been.

What of it then when bones decay
and all the steel’s to rust?
Will the temporal posts announce
gestalt there in the dust?
Will the meter stand to time
amidst each crafted lay?
Or will the echoes wrap the pen
and tuck it all away?

It passes in a moment,
chances caught leave most denied,
claims the yearning, clinging on
behind the aging eyes, defied.
Yet sparkled in the crystal blue
at flight in ether’s mystic truth,
does live the timeless heart, a poet,
penning hope to trade for proof.


Filed under Perspective, Poetry

BLOG expansion

Hi my friends.

I just want to take a minute and let you know that I have added two new blogs to the family.

– this is just now coming together and will be my main outlet for all of the photographic work that I do.

– this is a site for writings of reflection, essays, acknowledgement of life and all of its issues, perceptions, etc.

Please take a moment to visit these sights on occasion. I so value your opinions and comments as I try to expand my folded wings a bit.

Thanks to all of you!
Jay Blue

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Filed under Growth

February Winds

Sing to me! O winds of spring,
thru raucous chorus and driving snow!
Lift my eyes in hooded view
to find the strength of life I know!

Drive the willows frozen dance
to moan and groan in blast of white!
Settle certain living down
to lee of shelter, to hold on tight!

Selfish wind, one sided force,
paint a white and quickened stead,
there force my eyes to distant wake,
so turn my back, so turn my head!

Glimpses through the snow reveal
the tease of blue and powdered sky…
So bluster forth your blinding view
and gift me with your long cold sigh!

Steal the warmth from dream’s infusion!
Rend wide the hope with depths of grey!
O spring! You’re just illusion
when hoped for on this winter’s day!


Filed under Nature, Perspective, Poetry

Knight’s Return

Through the castle gate I find
a sullen angel robed in white,
demure yet strong of spirit she,
held paused in waiting for her knight.

Worry peaks her gentle brow
beneath sweet flows of chestnut locks,
yet longing moves her spirit forth
in waves of hope that silence mocks.

She is my love, my Guinevere,
in tawny alabaster skin,
left standing at the chapel doors
declining to go in.

She looks to me from amber eyes,
a silent tear upon her cheek.
She calls my name below her breath,
afraid to hear it, afraid to speak.

Across the courtyard, faintly seen,
a glint of shield and sword,
tossed in moonlight’s dust and mist,
floating on a whispered word.

Alas, I cannot call to her,
nor move beyond my breaking heart,
yet shuddered sobs of disbelief
deny my hidden ghostly art.

She turns to me in hesitation,
with reaching hand and heaving breath,
sobs my name in quaking timbre,
beholds me here past gates of death.

In silent sweet repeating,
I beg forgiveness and her love,
vow to hold her hand in living,
vow protection from above.

In death I stand with broken heart
as to my eyes my love unfolds
in heaps of sobbing sadness,
midst “whys?” that shall remain untold.

Through mourning gates at last they come,
bringing home what flesh remains
on bloodied, battered stallions,
reduced to battle scars and stains.

She stands to face me squarely
across the courtyard’s timeless cast,
whispers clearly, “yours eternal”,
and bows to let the bearers past.

As chapel candles draw them in,
she turns to hold my ghost once more,
blows a kiss in love eternal,
then steps beyond the chapel door.


Filed under History, Perspective, Poetry, True Love