Tag Archives: Speak

Revelations (day 2081)

It is ok to shake revelations
Free from every bushel around your neck
The crow shall come and speak again
Distance will call thy name.

But lonely trees, as sentinels,
Guiding your every step
A breath away feels no pain
And resolutions shape your sky.

Existential Haiku (day 2060)

Would the loss of your voice
Inspire you
To speak?

Moon at Midnight – Part XXXXXVI (day 2030)

(part XXXXXV)

We stayed for five days
With Amy, Frank and Clarinet
As expected, it was really quite enjoyable
There wasn’t enough room inside their cabin
So we set up in Frank’s barn
With some fresh hay we had helped reap –
Clarinet and Lily shared a bed inside,
I was happy to see them getting along so good
In spite their obvious cultural differences
And, truthfully, hardly able to speak to each other.

We were all thankful to have the horses
For the ride home
Amy forced us to take some of her jerky again
And stuffed our bags full of baked buns
Fresh from her oven
But, it was nice to sleep
Under the stars again
Around a campfire
The night was warm and clear
And we all felt happy,
Warmed by the socializing…
By the friendliness Amy and Frank
Always made sure to shower us with
They were really becoming quite good friends
To think, only three short years ago
I had first walked up to their front porch.

The next day we were up early again
And before we had ridden too far
Moon Cow saw a deer and had an arrow through it’s neck
We camped close by, at a creek
And spent the rest of the day dressing it
To prepare it for the remainder of the ride
It was nice to eat the fresh meat that night
But it surely wasn’t as good as
What Amy had packed us, smoked.

The rest of the trip home went
Without much to excitement
I was happy to see how well Willow was doing
On account of her broken ribs
It still hurt her to do long days on the horse
But she was so skilled on the horse
That she was able to avoid much pain
Still, we kept the next two days of riding
Slow and steady, without pushing too much
And enjoying the wildnerness we explored
Lily, of course, was all eyes everywhere
So excited to be on a journey
But a little melancholic about
Having to return to our village
After become so familiar, spoiled I guess I could say
With Amy and Clarinet’s hospitality.

part XXXXXVII

You’re Perfect (day 1958)

When I say you’re perfect
I mean it from the whole of my essence
From my tingling toes
To each breath I excitedly (and deeply) inhale,
From my deepest lost fantasy
To each lightly placed finger tip
That crawls every imagination I’ve got.
Your perfection seeds my stillness
That captures me in your grace.
Your wrong is not a wrong,
Your wrong is effort in my eyes
That nurtures your blossom,
Imagination takes your fancy
And lifts your spirit,
Infecting me like a perfect vision,
A serpent,
A sun rising from the horizon
Inch by inch warming my open eyes
To the miracle of a new day.
Your perfection isn’t in your perfect action,
Or your perfect features,
Or your perfect voice or perfect success,
Your perfection lies within your being.
Your perfection lies within your effort
That dances as you know how to dance
Over obstacles and through conversations,
That listens and speaks and shares and fights
And bruises and hurts and feels and bites.
Perfection is you, not the sum of your doings,
It stays with you as you go,
And returns again tomorrow,
It follows you into your messiest of days
And shadows you as you run.
When I say that you’re perfect,
It doesn’t hinge on how you treat me
Or what you bring me as a gift,
It doesn’t depend on your generosity
Or how close you hold my hand,
No, I mean it without you even knowing me
And I mean it as you walk upon your path,
I mean it as you say goodbye
And wave me our last kiss.

lisa-2

Ode to Sunsets (day 1875)

As your sweet rays
Flutter over horizon’s edge
I wonder quietly about
Your fluency…
Do you speak the same words
Of love
I speak out to you?
Oh, how we could live happily
Should the moon join us at noon.

Betwixt Breaths (day 1849)

We are all lonesome lovers
Shivering in and amidst breaths of lovers,
Shaking cobwebs that illuminate
Brief moments of terror and grasping
In a way that never quite becomes us.
Yet laughter sounds cheerful,
Spells swirl betwixt elated breaths
And night dies down
Into faint yellow spotlights
That ominously glow to remind us
It’s not yet morning.

And in a moment he heard her speak
And night did come alive!
All around was sparkling truths
That moaned against the moon,
While pixies danced and ran around
A beaming fire in play,
And there, as it was,
Made just for us to touch,
Warmth of everlast did lay,
Till morning had its way.

Mine Own Dagger (day 1674)

Dagger’s claws
At my shadow –
Cast upon the wall,
This silent story
Unfolded from
The backseat of a
Four horse pulled carriage.
Creaking springs and
Horses hooves
Left the night full of content.
But I, macabre,
Silently went;
No companion at my side.
Yet lightly had I begun my way
When I recognized my fate:
My future was –
Decidedly –
Not within my luggage close,
But upon my back,
Mine own enemy,
Cloaked in
One thousand names
I shall speak of nevermore.

Rays (day 1252)

You billow out from beyond my belief,
Strangling storm windows
Which turns me blank with divert.
I cross out
Little errors that shape tomorrow
Without missing a beat.
Yet here I am,
Following little sounds
Towards curious places
And letting my soul speak and be heard.
How curious these rays become.

Stubborn (day 969)

There is nothing that I can do
To change the minds of stubborn fools
Even if I were to try
My wiles on their brute for a while
I’d find my thoughts stuck between
Their fist, my faith, all compiled
And to which end that I seek
Should make it dangerous, us to speak
I seek not, which not begs of me
But which the stubborn fool’s to gain

Written Down the Back of my Neck (day 934)

Lines have been written down the back of my neck
Ancient scrolls, unintelligible
In a language spoken when men and women
Lived together in deep respect and love

My throat has begun to burn
The ink has started to bleed
Where once was smooth innocence
Crawling with anticipation of the turning times

Return to a fantasia built upon sorcery
Filled with myth so blood-soaked and deep
Memories flood the virgin landscape
And the Oracle speaks once again

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