October 13, 2016 · 3:01 am
Deny me not this fleeting moment, forged form pain in workday spent!
Deny me not the chance to grasp this truth in passing as it’s rent from in the flagging husks of time where captured souls of labour fall.
Embrace my soul in words unspoken that from their pallid ashes call the clarity of a hopeful love,
the danger in the risen beam,
the tensiled courage plans to build a nation’s growing dream.
What strength imbibes these few of honor?
Who engineers each step they take?
Where do they rest their inner spirit when all is done for finished sake?
Long past have these ennobled men graced our living spirits’ truth!
Their iron will and honesty, left in structures as their proof!
Photographs – United States Public Domain
October 12, 2016 · 3:01 am
Oh! What a day!
This day unlike the others!
Today the Jabberwocky’s slain!
It’s Frabjous day my brothers!
The White Queen rules again my loves!
For Alice spilled the beast’s black blood,
that haunts the Red Queen’s running stead,
with fears of words, “Off with her head!”
Today, and this day, one alone,
the Hatter, Mad will dance to song
and jig and step in gloried fashion,
dancing quick, the Futterwacken!
Oh! Frabjous Day! Oh! Frabjous Day!
How long we’ve truly waited,
to chase the Red Queen’s sulking steps,
with calls of all our hatred.
Hatter, Alice, White Queen too,
rejoice this day, and send to you
a happy blessing, a single chance,
to join our Futterwacken dance!
Prompted by dVerse Poetics… https://dversepoets.com/
Walter, our host, suggested that we write a poem of celebration. He gave so many wonderful examples, and I was really kind of caught off-guard… but for some unknown reason, my mind was filled with Lewis Caroll and Tim Burton’s extremely glorious collaboration and resulting celebration of Frabjous Day! “Where the heck did that come from?” I asked.
Frabjous Day… the day that Alice slew the Jabberwocky, thus returning the White Queen to her rightful reign of Underland, disposing the wicked Red Queen. On this day, it is claimed that the Mad Hatter danced the incredibly exciting and celebratory Futterwacken dance! What better form of celebration could there possibly be?
October 12, 2016 · 2:07 am
Solitude in standing,
bathed in harvest’s milky moon,
hallowed by the moment caught,
suspended midst the stars, in tune.
What sparkles call him to this ledge?
What questions form within his head?
How long will starlight hold his heart until he purrs to bed?
No matter what the fatter waxing of a perfect night,
the moon, within the edge of room, spills thick its milky white.
Beyond the distant clatter of alley’s trash cans hunting din,
above the howling love songs, sick, repeated, moaned, again, again,
no greater pleasure drifts his way than this, one perfect poignant perch,
where past the moon, ‘twixt stardust seams, his simple pleasured dreams do search.
photo artwork by Kasia Derwinska
October 7, 2016 · 3:31 am
Throughout the yellowed tarnished white,
the past reflects an echoed call,
where once a single pose she struck,
now only whispers through the hall…
filtered in the ochre dreams of golden dust suspended there,
imagination’s hopeful hints stir within her haunting hair…
eternal moments hold him still,
yearning for her love, long lost,
silent, dust of eons drift,
recounting dear the painful cost,
repeated in the souls who wander,
seeking peace in those they love,
stolen from the stage in anguish,
carried by an ageless dove,
who sees them passing tireless,
who knows the breaking of their hearts,
who dares embrace their truth, their passion,
stretched across the dying parts,
of life, of hope, of endless tides,
of missed encounter’s temperance,
of holding truth’s betrayal,
within an ageless penitence.
Lengthened shadows folding gold to greys of dissolution,
he turns away in sadness’ stain, one tear, one sigh, no resolution.
Within a yellowed hall in white,
two souls in echoed time,
long for life that ne’er was theirs,
repeating waves, recurring rhyme…
October 4, 2016 · 2:58 am
Flickered glimpse of dawn, in mourning…
“My God! My love! What has happened here?”
She stands beside me, shivering, drenched, reaching for my hand, behind her.
I hold her close.
The shore line is gone.
No structure stands.
The sky, aching grey, bouncing seagull’s cries against its tarnished iron ceiling.
Morning stands defending time, the pulse of life still throbbing…
Stunned into the aftermath we silently walk the empty beach, weeping, gasping, between what rubble remains, and not one soul.
Surreal this empty host of life, waves roll with an auditorium echo.
Piercing rays subdue the harsh deliverance, gently cracking hints of hope, bouncing subtle shadows across the slowly relaxing waves… sparkling their crescent shapes with diamonds.
She collapses at my feet, sobbing.
I look on, out over the vacant sea, wondering what has become…