Falling Leaves—A Poem From Long Ago (9)

Falling leaves mark the beginning 
of natures fast . . .
Winter is coming

Hear her icy bell blowing distance 
through your memory,
as trees half naked
spot the ground with clearer vision

“Oh alas, the winds of autumn run 
captive through my soul,
And place the stones in order 
spring doth disavow

Whose cold reprieve an answer grants 
in frosted shortened light,
To spread new life upon this breast,
—and natures womb”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 1977)

     From Year To Year

To catch you in my rhythm,

ensnare you in my rhyme

To make the meter come alive,

and pull you out of time

With lines that end so sweetly,

words pleasant to your ear

For you to carry past today,

and sing from year to year

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

       The Prose Waits

If you finally struck gold

And were digging out the mine

Would you leave it for a month

And come back to what you’d find

That’s the way I feel each day

Being blessed to write this verse

The prose insanely waiting,

—for my voice to then reverse

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

    My Wait Begins Again

I turn my collar up against the wind
and place my eyes along the skyline

Hoping in the darkness for some sign of you,
a colder truth I’ve never known

I pull my jacket tight across my chest
and watch the waves crash upon your shadow

Knowing the tide is like your receding heart,
washing my footsteps from the sand

The sun has now gone, the moon in flight,
and my hopes rise o’er the waves

My collar frozen and my soul on fire,
—as my wait begins again

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

Gifting Sight

There just below the surface,

more present than you know

A prophetic Jeremiah,

tracks leading through the snow

His message serves to buttress,

those standing in the light

A pipeline to eternity,

—his vision gifting sight

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

Nothing But Pretend

Driven by my message,

settled by the score

Riveting exposure,

fastening secure

Words burning through my memory,

reminding once again

The past and future just a myth,

—and nothing but pretend

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

Within Her Breath

The Muse more than my mistress,

the Muse more than my friend

The Muse more than a guardian,

the Muse my blood within

She no longer comes to visit,

she only comes to stay

Each wish I make, each word I write,

—within her breath I pray

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

Out Of Sight

Rewired, and now poetic,

my words light up the night

And cast the darkness back to hell,

—the demon out of sight

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

Only To The Brave

Utopia belongs to the fleet of heart

but the truth,
--- only to the brave

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)