UnTitled
The whistle blows and I arise
To start the day before blue skies
The dark water sits cold from past
Morning but a mug it goes in at last
The walk amongst the velvet leaves
Paired with the smell of a ending breeze
Allows myself the stop and dream
To look to the hope of tomorrow
The steel and stone building arose
From beyond the horizon such an impose
As the ants flow into the mound
And grey smoke billows along the ground
The hustle and hassle of a hundred men
Passes below the eyes that tend
And through the gates of heaven I pass
Or what is my final mass
Card punched and beaten
I leave utterly defeated
To see the dark walls of my dwelling
The feeling so compelling
To break down and sob on my knees
All trying the find the proper key
For the doorway opened and into it I walked
The future of things never talked
Seaband Sonnet
Mermaids did not preside that sea.
Metallic seabirds and their screech
Tormented tourists on the beach
While rhymtic waves beat at the quay.
"Perfection, to rid malady.
Again, again!" does he beseech
Upon the mountain which he preach
Fall on the ears of Galilee.
Yet I would not trade it for all
The treasure in Poseidon's vault
Or puddles, lakes, rivers, and ponds;
The drops never really enthrall.
Noisy ocean spray of sweet salt
This sweaty Band of vagabonds
Sonnet #1
You leap into the corners of my mind
When I'm surrounded by milky moonlight.
The days, the grains, disappear from my sight
Falling, swept away by the autumn wind.
Sirens sing that saddest song which does bind
and the abyss of my warmth they plight.
So extremes bring relief ever so slight
And Passion whether wrong or right defined.
The Lighthouse sings and I step to its stride
stepping into the Forgotten ether
the embers still glowing falls down like snow.
One to ache, one to soar, or two have died,
Ground her, to someone who is beneath her.
Now, in the now, will meet the better beau.
America’s Tear
The Lion of America, while a forelimb of oranges seated anterior
The Maine-d head; aft a member composed on beef and oil,
Runs chasing the ever-fleeing horizon, pursuing the promise of
New possibilities, carnal in desires, coupled with an adverse impulse.
The single tear cried by the august creature,
A single mourn for the loss of the beauty within,
Of the wild; the last preservation of the purity inside.
Shed of Providence.
Dwarfed - though size misleading - and abandoned,
Never fails to rattle the soul within myself
Instead attracts my being stronger than any lodestone.
Years passed since my maiden voyage,
Never ceasing in plucking my heart strings.
The Island in R’ Island, one of the last great places.
A last-minute addition to my itinerary, an afterthought,
An excursion, to break the beating rhythm of life.
Disunited;
Yet isolation fails to detract from fascination,
For any vagabond recognizes time between localities
releases the thoughts beginning to throng one’s mind.
A crawling speed contrasting the metropolis crouching
in shades beyond view, awaiting pounce.
Contemplation resides in the moments between.
When espoused are mooring line and dock
Does my heart flutter with eagle wings
Soaring into the steely sky.
Brackish aroma fills my lungs, reassuring
My soul of tranquility. A light offshore
Wind is freed, misty with Atlantic
Ambition kisses my cheeks and urge
Further exploration. My cerebral appetite
Unhinged from corporeal gut, consumed
All before me. Every step, burden is shed
From my shoulders, the smell of sea and sand
Fill myself anew. Beginning my pilgrimage
Along the coast, each wave overlaps one another,
sending the white bubbling crests descending,
masking the sea glass shrewd shore
with the transparent fading water.
As tide retired, I began walking along
The aquatic frontier, feeling ensconced
By hidden coves around every bend.
The sun’s lances pierced the powdered stone,
Warming the boulevard I walked along.
Anchored before the immense, boundless
Sea, these alluring forms reside
Within my spirit; long after my being departs.
Beyond shores, cups of nectar dot the countryside
Three great hundred and five dimpled,
New reflectance for each day of a year,
Rarely wounded and soon healed.
Bluffs rise above the shore.
Climbing, troughing one step at a time,
Following cairns place along the path.
Upon cresting the apex I was greeted
With the most pleasurable view yet.
Gazing down upon the quaint town
Which this endeavor began, retracing
The path travelled. Residing upon the horizon
Stood the prominent island; named
For its grandeur, housing the jaws
Of the restless Lion. A freshening gale
Could be felt, tickling my raw, exposed skin,
Not potent with brine, instead moderated
By the golden and green grasses.
Whispers pass my ears, spilling
Secrets; persons past who stood
And stared and cherished like me.
Swallow and sparrow songs heard
Over crashes of bubbling waves below.
The golden orange became punctured
By the metallic teeth to the west.
Following my descent from the summit,
I gazed longingly back towards those ridges.
On the bluffs above me sat the pale moon;
the moon waxing brightly on the crisp August night.
The dancing wafer on ponds mimics that of a spirit,
Shimmering and wavering, never still, intriguing me.
As I stepped upon the terminal craft,
Departing from the watery diamond
I felt a part of my soul bide on the shore.
Gazing behind, the Prometheus pillar gleams,
Chained to the shore, urging stately ships
To the mystic so close within reach.
Disembodied from such beauty palpably,
Notwithstanding shall my mind be so moved,
Further it shall stand stalwart, forgetting
Neither the delightful quaint nor the lapping waves.
The lofty bluffs overlook Elysium manifested.
Scrollwork
It all begins with an idea.
arabesque words fall upon the page
as the wail from the blacken nib
and the blood water of an acid pen
Stains the surface and the mind alike
Through straight lines and curlicues
The message becomes conveyed
arabesque words fall
from the blackened nib
the acid that flows
stains surface and minds alike
Straight lines and curlicues
Interpreted by each
The author's views
Of the subject in speech