It has been hard to admit
That my words have lost meaning.
Even the breath
That inhales to explain
Where my full self has departed to
Has lost its strength;
Faintly attached
With two softly drawn cords
Like a spider web
In early morning dew
(Too delicate and lost
To be trecherous and hard),
Whispers inside myself
Have fallen down.
This weakness has touched my message
– Ice crumbling at the brink of water –
So much so that my eyes
Are no longer opening
With meaning and fury
For they have bid me adieu
While rainwater is expected
To stain this grand scheme.
Tag: dew
Toulouse (day 3042)
Toulouse, my dream of maiden,
Fabric of life,
Seams of Sunshine meeting Flowers,
Crescent of the arcing Moon.
Feel the landscape of Blossom
Flowering as a wish,
For the light downy Feathers
That claim each mistake
Fall lightly beneath the big Oak tree
That protect each fair call
Like dew drops made from Gods.
Flew (day 2635)
It is not mine to lead away
Paths which grow apart
For every night a gallery
Painted upon the sky
Sings the chorus
Of each our rambling song
Heavy on the bass
Lightly stepping, light dew
Light our hearts they flew
Light the paths
For each we choose
Like fireflies in delight
And keep our minds
Upon our goals
Lest misty morning’s news.
Dare These Wings to Fly (day 2595)
Dare these wings to fly
Though they ache like grace feels shy
And the good calls lonely
With each sunset it watches,
Walking away from pennies on the pavement
While holding on to nothing
– No resemblance of life.
Can a rhythm be found?
A pulse of life struggling
With iron clad hemispheres
Buckling down a goodnight.
So there, can flight be had?
Geese migrate South
As these trees set in
For an evening of dew
And a pale awakening
To ancient songs of return.
Misty Boughs (day 2258)
You, a burning flame did grow
Dancing with the morning fog
Shake the dew that left birds in
A maze of ribbons and boughs.
A colour ran straight down from
Each gap of the misty morn
Tingled each dancing toe
O’er the wild grassy knoll.
Whence the house came peeking through
Ominous black set back in fog
Home at last to elm pews
Shaggy black goat on the road.
Ode To Dried Flowers (day 2139)
When skies blow clouds
So lazily
And grass sways side to side
I feel your heart pull
About a time that’s past
I remember, I do!
I watched you lift your brows
To the sky each morning dew
And sunsets captured a feeling
Of what it was to be you
And now we carry on
Taken, but not forgot.
Exist Between (day 1861)
Where is this spot that exists between dream and reality
The viscerally imaginative soft stuff
That shakes shaggy ground free of complaints
And sunsets clear morning’s dew
From cobwebs shining as if testing new approaches
To similar corners, similar filters, similar dreams
That sit still and recoil while inhale meets exhale
And spring meets autumn
And one meets two
And a shoe gets worn through by impermanence of space
That’s always been growing up and chopped down
And eaten and fed and counted and weighed
And slotted into a spreadsheet marked with scales
Ranging from zero to ten with a save button
That creates multiple redundancies.
When the only request is for a tiny piece of convenience
For just one moment.
And in a flash,
With feet firmly planted securely on uneven ground
And hands held out in wide Namaskar to this beautiful world
A little droplet of rain shall fall perfectly
Upon a freckled upturned nose holding thoughts
Of a sunny day and all the rays of life shall shine down
In abundant warmth like a ticking clock
Chiming in at every quarter hour.
Roses (day 1363)
I whispered my lonely
Questions floating on my mind
Deeply into the eyes
Of my distant lover
Who shook from my thunder
Until dew drops rested quietly
About nearby roses
Quickly blooming.
The Moon And Me (day 1141)
I am the grass.
I am the moon at night
As the dew soaks my soul.
I am the tree:
Deep roots.
So close my eyes,
Let the music carry me
Past the littlest leaf
Upon me, the tree.
Let the clouds roll on
As I wish them well.
Let the moon and me
Be the grass and sea.
Those Words (day 1062)
Don’t say those words.
Don’t whisper into the madness.
Don’t hold my hand when wind blows so strong.
For I am only a man,
A lonely man
Stepping lightly through long blades of grass
Soaked with morning dew.
Hanging on.
Lifting my love
That sits balanced on a finely pressed
Single sheet
Of stationary,
Manufactured with my namesake in mind
And imprinted with layered words
Of forgotten notes
Passed along in a time when I knew
Those words were necessary.