…of mortar and affectionwarmed by April suna drift of fragrance, cow’s breath and old hay,ripe cheese, pale grassesthe lightest scent of blossom and the lingerance of snow,and breakfast hearth-smoke… Distant crows are wheeling, cawing,coarsely calling admirationof the new-turned turf,of turning season, of turning, turning, turningin the sky above the oaks…The human touch of talkand laughter …
Tag Archives: Poetry
Midnight Musing
In the quiet after midnight,then my artistry awakesand in the dark when others sleep, then the fit of writing takesmy hand and mind, and bids me think…It skips and tumbles down the page,leaving in prints of pen-and-inkimages I never thought beforeand thoughts never imagined–They enter through the midnight doorfrom moon- and star-light fashioned.
Other Lives
I would not live foreverin a single suit of clothes.I would not careto memorizeforevereach stain and tearor keep track ofevery button lost. Thankfully, I forgetfrom time to time,the progressand the passageand the passagesthrough which I wend my way… The details ofhard lessons, happily,escape me like the pains of giving birth.It is enough, the thing I …
Tolkien Tribute: Epistle from Gandalf to Galadriel
I have a collection of poems written in tribute to JRR Tolkien over the 50+ years I have considered myself a Middle-earth expat. This one was written for a challenge on a Tolkien-related site Galadriel, I greet thee,a moment stealingfrom my Mannish guise,to speak as one-to-oneto one as old as Iand also wise… Here I …
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Spirit Rises
Struggling, striving,yearning towards the light, our passage isn’t always seenby those in passingeither way. We climb, we pause,we rest…and reach again… And though we dally here and there,or sleep a thousand years, or seem to die,we’re rising, always–Rising to the Light… 1980
Don’t Touch!
This love’s a testy thing bristled for defense against the world and pain: we give up ground for every gain– we go around, around– aground again… My friend, I see you there crouched along the spiral’s inner curve; I wish I could reach in and touch your heart but every nerve you own is raw– …
Love’s Not Always Pink
Love’s not always pink–It’s what you feel and livenot what you think.Sometimes it’s what you giveor are allowed to takeor nothing you can havefor someone else’s sake. Love’s not always song–its voice not always heardor clear and strong.Sometimes it’s just absurdand makes no kind of senseOr it speaks without a word,has neither rhyme nor tense. …
Raw: Summer Creek
Silt settles in the summer creekover hard-wedged woodand the largish stubborn stoneslaid bright and barewhen vernal torrents raged:ripped raw the bed,tore out old banks,walkwaysand little bridges–wild waters shattered, scattered… Recut pathwaysand the landscapein the violence of season’s change. The sun is warm now glimmering over the water where leafy branches gaze and tease the eye:The …
Mirrors
Mirrorsreturnwhat’s cast at themreversed. Mirrors,mute,suggestand delude. Mirrorstease and mock. Mirrorsshatter. 2006
Lost
This morning as I wokeI recalled the day of sadness I could not bring from memoriesbefore her deathmy mother’s face. Not your facebut something of youas essential and as dearI cannot bring to mind todayand feel the rift has widened nowbeyond my strength to leap. Though I can stand and gazea while longertowards an empty …
LOOSELY SPEAKING... 