. What joy!
. The sound of bells
. The smell of pine—the glow
Of candlelight—What dreams! What hopes!
. CHRISTMAS
#CinquainPoetry #ChristmasPoetry
Gypsy-voiced the oreads call
From their far-off haunted mountain halls
. “Come away
. Come away
The world is dreary, the world is old;
Stars are setting and the moon blows cold.
. Come away
. Come away.”
But I cannot go, though stars burn low,
Though hill-sprites call from enchanted halls:
. “Come away
. Come away.”
There’s a table to lay
At the close of day
And fires to light
On this wild wind’s night.
No. No. I will never go
Far away where the fey flowers glow.
In the firelight’s gleam my loved ones rest
And I know I have everything…or, all that’s best
#LovePoetry #LoveandTemptation
On my sunshine table
Golden rays from my dear friends
Like sunbeams glowing there
Bring a happiness that never ends
#FriendshipPoetry
How measure the greatness of their contribution?
The laughing boys
The joking boys
The scared, bragging, tearless boys
The little cupfuls of life
Flung above the fields of death
Reeling, whirling globules of light
Tiny spheres of time
Evaporating in the stenchant air
Or spattering upon the thirsty, dirty ground
Lost beneath the blood and rust.
One hundred: A thousand?
One hundred thousand?
How many to fill each day’s demanding void?
They came, running from their playgrounds,
Still shouting over disappearing shoulders
To laggard game-mates
Boots fitted, belts buckled
They were gone
Long before the calls could end
Or the deeds be done
Or the medals molded.
How measure the greatness of their contribution?
#MemorialDay #VeteransDay #SoldiersandPoetry
To one
In whom sweet grace
Has found a place to grow
And flower as she lives, and loves
And gives.
#CinquainPoetry #PoetryandThanks #Friendship
Sometimes still on a moon-gold night
The old dreams wake in the wild-witch light
And lantern-starred, their beaming spy,
Comes riding down the scheming sky
To search me out and knock and knock,
To try again love’s perfect lock;
But only a ghost, a shadow-regret
Slips by that guard to claim me yet.
#HalloweenPoetry #Halloween #Jack-O-Lantern #LovePoetry
There is always that locked door
and something,
or someone
waiting
And then there is the sound
of running feet
a glimpse of jeweled slipper
and pointed toe
running, running
down the long corridor
There is always that locked door
and the long, long corridor
If the key should turn
grinding, screaming
with rust and decay
If, say, the old old bar
of the old old bolt
should lift?
But there the nightmare folds
the echoes of running
jewel-shod feet recedes
There is always that locked door
a racing heartbeat
and breathless flight
. in the middle
. of the dream-stopped night.
#Mystery #NightmareandPoetry #Nightmare
Sun
Red earth
Sun
Turquoise sky
Sun
Flowers of desert flame
Sun Sun Sun
When evening comes
Long shadows and silences
Fill canyons
Fall on mountains
And purple hills.
#Arizona #ArizonaandPoetry