Monthly Archives: August 2014

The Rose, The Table, The Love, The Time

In ageless hesitation,
the pedals of the rose caress
the lines of time held sweet to rhyme
there poised across the oak’s duress,
that hold this ancient table
as art above its form
and echoes sweet the whispered times
when love engaged it, warm.

Now ‘tween the grains are softened waves
whose crests form black and knurled,
midst stains of life and living spilt
across an age unfurled.

Sweet the musky rose entreats
the golden oak with peace,
dripped from fallen “love me nots”
and broken heart’s release.

Silent stands the aged stem
whose vase has dried and browned
to contrast kind the porcelain
in fissures where life’s time has drowned,
and left the finest web enwrapped
about the fading glaze once white,
now aged and thin as are the hands
that nearby hold one pedal tight.

Held quiet in reflection,
dreams of love entwine her thoughts
as lines of time held sweet to rhyme
drape long across this moment sought,
as oak and rose sustain her
and hold her saddened form,
while echoes sweet in whispered words
enrobe and keep her warm.


Filed under Perspective, Poetry, True Love

The Poet’s Dusk

Dusk, the shadow’s maker in a woolen woven weave, hangs upon the sweetened vines that bind this summer’s eve. Holding there in hushed content, drawing moments fatter, it stands in day’s end last lament unearthing evening’s batter that bends the ether temporal, that lends a feigned gestalt, coercing from the ticking clock one living breath to halt.

The dust suspended, golden, upon the frozen ether strains to twinkle in reflection of the slanted rays that grace the panes of long arced window’s moment caught in flitting glimmer’s play, blushing pink to ochre o’er the ancient oak and still hallway, casting hesitation’s doubt in breathless ebbing tide, held in mirror’s reflection, through lengthened course and gating wide.

Seduced to pause between the poles enlisted to keep time, in brass convex reflection stands the pendulum’s sweet rhyme that quivers in its pausing thought, sings in polished brass and pane, captures in one resonance this moment held in dusk, sustained. ‘Til heaved in breath one downbeat’s heft, driven by an ancient law, returns the evening from its theft and captures all this poet saw.


Filed under Perspective, Poetry

WWI – Remembrance

Cold the wet horizon lies in silhouetted waste
that runs from where my footsteps fall in hesitation’s haste.
Upon this pitted road of ruin, blackened earth from bombs and blood,
my destination’s certain claim is death here in this mud.

In Liege the madness started, as all declared their stance to war,
that by autumnal equinox the fallen rose half million more.

The stench of death in mix of gas recoils my stepping’s gait,
yet onward to what’s still undone denies this bitter state.
The brazen mud and field works bare the corpses of the dead,
yet standing forest memories form the lamp posts of this hellish stead.

Gallipoli, Verdun, ring fallen echoes home,
yet nothing ranked the senselessness of what we faced in Somme.

The spring of 1918 held hope for millions dead,
yet those of us who stand here still, returned this hope with dread.
Now upon this backing rush storm troopers raised in ire,
whispers of remembrance rekindling this fire.

Now we drive in final push, Amiens and silent Somme,
knowing Hindenburg awaits with more of hell to come.

I count the eyes remaining of the faces that I’ve loved,
these brothers mine, some traces of their angels raised above.
I feel the dank of weary hearts held in courageous hope,
I sense the end is near now, and pray that I can cope…

one more push, one more trench,
another bloodied night in stench
that fills my nostrils sorely with a pain I’ll never loose,
resolve to carry on in strength, relent to those I choose
to aim a fatal blow toward or drop to sudden cover,
waiting for that one last breath in life or as death’s lover.

Over the top boys!


Filed under History, Memory, Perspective, Poetry

Quiet Now…

Quiet now the sighing comes as day’s extent is done,
and here I sit in corner’s chair that by this pen might cull the sum,
the sum, that is, of life and love that passes through the day
and pulls the corners down to fit among these thoughts that stray,
that stray through life’s long memories with children gathered home,
who share sweet smiles in reverie, recount the years we’ve come to roam.

Can there be a heaven blessed beyond a peace as this?
Can there be some greater gift than drifting through this day’s sweet bliss?

I pause to see their faces, feel their hands from small to tall,
hear their laughter’s timber and the path that each one’s life does call.
By grandkid’s eager smiling eyes, by children’s happy grins,
my life in purpose rounded whole sets full within my soul again,
blessed to know the kindest fabric of life in fullest stride
where time grants blessing’s happiness to those I love and hold in pride.


Filed under Family, Perspective, Poetry