For those of us condemned to dream
To dream behind invisible walls
Whose every little wish
And half-formed hope,
Like will-o-the-wisps,
Blow willy-nilly away
With every errant breeze
Even as scarp grows green again
Or adds an additional lovely curve
To terrain,
Rubble and bones
Lie deepening
Forgotten under its new growth
And new beauty.
It is a hostile planet,
When you come right down to it—
For mankind, that is.
We make our small
(or sky-rising abodes)
Upon the “innocent” hills of green,
Or deep in high valleys,
Or high on mountain steep—
But when the planet shakes
In frivolous dance of quivers,
Our little homes crumble.
Dark cloud-scarf
(Jewel-warmed night)
Is folded now,
Inch-small
Palm-lost,
Time’s hand
Fleeter than cutlass
And the heart’s beat
Has cruelly cut
Our firefly summer.
Glittering Scorpio
With great Antares’ copper amulet
Swinging on the throat of night
Alas,
Gone into blue Autumn smoke.
Nine months they waited
With hopes and dreams
For the babe they could not see,
And oh, the joy of their happy day
When Trevor came to be.
Time has found me unfulfilled
Yet withal I can keep dreaming:
Why not fairy castle build?
Yes, I know it’s only seeming.
Still, when spatial spires go towering
And the magic spreads its spell
Surely then there is a powering
Greater than mere words can tell.
Hope is flowering.
Inside the garden
The players played
Balloons of laughter
Lifted lightly on the air
Color-curled promises rose like music
Above the garden wall
Drops of crystal sun carried
Far and wide
Outside the garden
The phantom lurked
Terror-dark and silent as night
And then….and then….
Tiger anger sprang
Swift, swift, the slaughter wind swept
Far and wide
Time passes
The broken toys are mended
The garden games bloom once more
But for some the party is over.
I am lonely
Left bereft.
When you are gone
To that far highland place
I cannot touch
Your flaming heart
That lives
In a world apart
When your heart flees
To that far highland world
What makes your fragile heart
Cry low
Yearning for the gypsies so?
The music and the dancing flow
Like phantoms through your dreams
And will your yearning heart
Pursuing your dream
Throughout the night
Find the misted way
Into the dawn?
I stand forlorn.
What makes your heart ever beseech
The gypsy world beyond your reach
A realm quite fair
That only exists within
Your dreams or so it seems?
The big boat swishes through the waves,
That swell and break in rhythmic splendor.
Dark wraiths of smoke hover
Over matte-colored pools of reflected glory.
The wind grows cold—
Only a memory of recent warmth wanders
Through the air.
High above, in a street of green light,
Two angel clouds
Fling misty snow-white gowns
Across the sky, flow with the departing sun
(Sinking now beyond the horizon),
And fade finally into the spreading roseate
After-glow and are lost.
Only twilight remains.
A jet flushed
From beyond the far hills
As silently as a bird,
Shot in a silent streak
Into the soft blue cloudless sky
And then the sound came
Rocking the ground
A charging beast
Too late to catch anything
But the twin streams of thrust
Spreading and thinning
And dissolving
In the teeth
Of the futile bites of sound.
#airborneday
We are twelve
Together we make the year
But why, among us all
Do I seem to be held least dear?
I am a pleasing month, I think
True, sometimes I dawn quite hot
Yet many days, shiny and bright
Warm and balmy, not
Really too hot. That’s clear,
I think.
Make me to be a favorite month
Give me some wonderful holiday
To celebrate
And I’ll take my rightful place
Among the twelve
And dwell there in my new happy state,
Happily
In my new honored state.