Category Archives: Dreams

Amber Dawn

Amber dawn, ‘neath blushing skies,
quells the azure’s limpid eyes
from dewy tears of morn
that cling in hush and silenced breath
beyond the long cold arm of death
that’s stilled in stone when days are born.

Here upon this Scottish hill
o’er grassy lea and whispered rill
the sea in silence kisses
rocky shores where lovers leapt,
shipwrecked crews whose secrets’ kept
within their love, their misses.

I in humble witness here
mend in hope the simple fears
that balance dawn and death,
by simply casting prayers out
in hopes such dreams may come about
to grant sweet love its breath.

That crescent moons in morning skies
wipe clear the tears from lovers’ eyes,
stay the blush to truth,
that closely held to beating breast
will grant eternal peace and rest
with memories’ lain in threads of youth.

This amber dawn, these blushing skies,
draw a tear unto my eyes
and prayer from my lips,
that as I rise to find my day,
blessed in love I’ll sweetly stay,
leave just my dreams with sunken ships,
for here the day is born.

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Filed under Dreams, Perspective, Poetry, True Love, Universal Soul

Earth’s Delight

Stand within the failing light of summer’s dusk demarked in time,
suspended ‘twixt the poles of night, stretched thin in whispered rhyme
whose lengthened shadows softly bow these moments held sublime.

These moments captured in between the poles of birth and death,
feed the fleeting flurries’ scenes, in gentle grasp that bends each step
to cull the most you’d hoped to know and all you’ve come to find.

Yet evening follows dawning,
death descends on life,
moments lose their passage gained
as days in task become the wife…

Time remains immortal,
your simple work somehow transcends,
until the mirror folds the lines
around your smiling eyes and skin.

Then to the fleeting moments call your patience born on anxious wings,
with dreams renewed in hastened steps, on bucket lists of greater things
that kept the working day at bay,
that held your time immortal,
that granted strength to iron will,
that stayed the threat of life’s last portal.

Now stand within this failing light, summer’s dusk disrobed and bare,
for evening stretches long her hand and loosens long her darkened hair.

That as you wait for dawn to rise and grant the peace now held in shadow,
do count the many steps surmised, the blessed memories gifted, hallow.

Softly sings the whispered rhyme stretched kind between the poles of night
for souls enrapt in dreams sublime and lullabies of earth’s delight.

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Filed under Dreams, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Blue Bird

Poignantly paused in sullen stare,
her quiet embarks a journey there
that pulls a long red thread through time,
where memories’ stitch runs soft in rhyme,
yet for no other reason
this time alone entrapped.

With softened wing she tugs the line.
Her feathered breast gives rise in time.
I feel the very moments played
before the greying light and fade.
Drift I another season.
Cast still. Alone. Enrapt.

Hushed, her stare, from on the branch,
gives rise to childhood’s echoed glance,
repeats the southern wood and spring
where all my wonders held me king,
where once I could parlay
the heart of summer’s dream.

As whispered through a lilac breeze,
she tugs the string in playful tease,
that I into the courtyard’s dusk
find love in autumn’s deepest musk.
First blush by kiss belayed,
in love’s eternal scheme.

With fluttered tail and heaving breath
her red thread pulls the chord of death.
Beneath spring storm and somber sky,
raindrops blend the tears I cry
for love once found, now lost.
Remains to bless one rose.

Such quiet holds her mournful stare
that unto evening rends a tear,
that holds this grey and withered one
in faltered breath and setting sun.
A blue bird counts the cost.
Drift I in last repose.

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Filed under Angels, Dreams, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Brothers Grimm

The road stands long before me. I strain to see through setting sun the length to which I must, the pain to where my memory runs.

Cold, the anger bites my heels, clings in dust that sparks with gold. Irons clamped around each step draw blood from ghosts my spirit holds.

I stood to give you vision. I spoke that you might see.
I braved the threat of repercussion which sacrificed your part of me.

The distance casts a silhouette, gaunt and black, sure suffered thin. It stands in crooked posture, paused, disposing hints of wicked grins.

Its tilted hat hides scars of lies spilt from pain set loose. Around its neck of sinew hangs a necktie stretched, a dead man’s noose.

I kept my word to wait for you, to wait to see you rise.
I held my silenced anguish close. I kept my hope behind these eyes.

The stench of flesh decayed and dried whispers through the breathless still, to silence hounds whose snapping teeth tear at my fading will.

Tis death and hell before me. Tis hell and death behind. Yet still I pray the truth may play the queen of hearts and trump death blind.

I cast a soulful hope for you. I prayed you’d find your truth.
I gave all freedom to the pain you pierced into my youth.

Weary coursers bend the sky in streams of black on ochre stains. No step, profound in trying, draws my hopes to free or find this pain.

The road stands long before me. I pray to feel the cool dusk drawn in lengthened shadows calming blush, with you at peace, me waiting dawn.

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Filed under Dreams, Perspective, Poetry

Eternal Rider

Towards setting sun I strike a pose
in chase of dusk’s last errant kiss,
clinging tight to hope, disposed,
dreaming in the sweetest bliss
of light remembered,
touch recalled,
duty bound while love enthralled
across an ochre meadow, this.

Barley wisps ignite the lea
crowned in long ray’s amber fire,
blinding what I strive to see,
as stirrups stretch in raising higher
to glimpse the spark,
lift the veil,
find my love across this dell,
there chance to win her arms, retire.

Eternity my shortest day
hath called me from the tomb and grave
to burden deep my soul to stay,
to ride upon eternal wave
of amber field,
of setting sun,
to nearly see the face, the one
who’s love I couldn’t save.

Toward dusk I strike a hopeful pose,
dreaming of her one last kiss,
belay a sudden scent of rose
to carry home my heart, remiss
of pain endured,
beyond the tide,
at dream within this errant ride,
across this golden meadow’s bliss…

Eternally I ride…

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Filed under Dreams, Poetry, True Love, Universal Soul

Winter’s Last Night

Here I sit detached, adrift,
through dying embers seek and sift,
in hoping for a welling flame
to heat the hearth and so in claim
a victory toward the spring.

The cords of fuel have spent their best
to heat this home, to garner rest
through lengthened nights of bitter cold,
through winter’s best and deepest hold,
through crackling fires, sing.

The wood pile is depleted now,
the fourteen cords I stacked somehow
have been reduced to eight sticks here,
piled at hearth in hope and fear
of how this winter ends.

Hopes of spring in March relent
to winter’s snow and frozen scent
that whirls around this alpine cot,
trading warmth and embers hot
for hope this season’s time transcends.

Eight sticks, one night, if not to freeze.
Like bread and fish and wine conceive
a hope for Christ to gather here
upon this mount with sermon dear
to hold the storm at bay.

But as the embers gently hush
I find the calm, ignore the rush,
sacrifice on piece of eight
pray that winter’s cold will wait
with me until the day,
and morn will bring the sun.

At warming hearth in blankets deep,
tucked into a rocking sleep,
I hear the whisper of the wind
calling me as gentle fiend
as if to say just one’s okay,
and promising the sun.

So into peace I run…

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Filed under Dreams, Mountains, Nature, Perspective, Poetry

Back Against This Wall

Back against this wall…

This alley in remission from evening’s shallow light that casts the neon’s echo ‘cross the puddled rain here left in flight. The creeping of the city’s poise, stagnant, yet repelling the every moment stood before, captured melancholy, telling of the brick so stacked behind my back, its story never told, of tears in lonely crying dealt amidst the thieves, amidst the throes of life, of death, of every moment painted black… I lean against this wall succumbed by all the world, by all the lack.

Into my very soul it pours, every bottle, every poor soul that claimed a moment’s home between the puddles, against the loam of what the city so disgusts, but bends to truth and hides in trust that such is never seen. I lean against this wall, now mean. I feel the bullet holes here left, where souls caught glimpses of their death. I smell the acrid bloom of fear and echoed running footsteps hear… to justice? to ends? to whatever’s left of soul’s lost friends…?

Behind the madness of my mind I feel the thrum and so go blind to all the hopes here swimming round, adrift within this dying ground… this dying ground, is it? I write it lest I should forget. My shadow crosses fast before the falling neon lights in roar glanced across the puddles’ rent where only living’s death is spent, and so I to my own.
Back against this wall, alone.

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Filed under Dreams, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul