The music pops and warbles,
crooning smooth tunes
over the corporate approved radio
and the woman near me –
you’d expect her to have a bob perhaps, but no –
her hair is a riot
of darker brown with lighter pink
and a few beaming golden tresses ties it all together
and as the espresso steams and the lights dim and
fragrance of peppermint fills the air,
her smile dazzles more brilliant still.
Let’s dance the charleston now and forget
what lies behind
what lies ahead is far better.
Let’s dance my love,
let’s dance.
Tag: poetry
A Cup of Water
May I have some water?
Cracked lips and parched throat
and fevered, restless soul
toiling and spinning
and groaning e’er more –
what is this shadow I see?
The grass is brown and dry
and the flowers wilt
all for lack of water.
An autumn leaf
slowly spinning to the earth
in what seems
to be a very long moment,
but it is only a moment.
Boots crunching on the snow
and first flush of winter’s blast
reminds one of two conflicting points –
the terrible power of nature’s wrath and
the terrible beauty of the same.
All the flags and all the battleships of all the petty kingdoms of the world
are revealed for how small they truly are.
And in that long night,
as a tear gently traces the cheek,
there is a cry that rises.
Oh to lay this burden down
Oh to let this yoke be broken
Oh to leave this shadowed land
Oh to love forever.
And in that night,
there is remembrance brought and
there is peace and comfort wrought.
For surely rest is at hand.
Forever.
But not yet.
The scent of lilies on the wind
and through the doorway, open now –
I see a rising sun
and there is
a hint of jasmine.
Someday
glory comes.
Chainless
Early I wake and slowly stumble out the door,
weary feet on battered pavement,
– sadly not batter for pancakes,
too early –
but what is that to me? I look up
with joy, almost hesitating – and see
the half moon shining brilliantly in the sky,
a witness towering in heavens far
to God who placed it there.
My heart is not worthy of such joy –
pain is far more apropos –
but worthiness is not why I rise each morn,
Abba Father
near to me
I cry.
Dripping
Cold now I shiver,
work calls my name and I sip
peppermint mocha.
Upraised
A girl sits prettily on a bench,
dwelling on all that has come before,
and as she ponders
and she wonders
what all these tears
are truly worth,
so she wanders
down the lane of
fading memories,
sweet as honey-
and wistful sighs
the willow blossoms
that open yearning to the brilliant sun-
memories now fade,
the road goes on,
so she wanders
towards that true worth
for all these tears
now she wonders
and so she ponders,
heart a burning for what has come before.
And yea-
A girl sits upon a bench.
(Going to touch this up later…no time now -homeward bound. Pardon the rawness)
Hello Hurricane
A little more coffee sounds lovely, please.
Just tear yourself away from that book you’re reading
Give me another chance, darling, and just lean in,
And tell me, won’t you, that you love me, please?
Traveler
Grey skies and white flakes of snow and wind billowing in indifferent harmonies
Pole strikes upon the hard-packed snow and soon enough the heavens part
Blue dazzling, triumphant, brilliantly defiant
And the sky cavernous beckons.
a Mirror, Dimly
a maiden dares to veil her face, hidden now by shrouds of midnight blue silk and lace
and although the voluminous fabric hides her wide and darting eyes,
her sigh of wistfulness does not escape the notice of the one who soft approaches.
and though she steps delicately over the conduits of merchants mean and voracious, varied
and as she tiptoes past the worn and crumbling pillars of viaducts grand and tragic both,
her walk of longing unfulfilled is not hidden from the eyes which spy her now, he approaches.
and little pricks of starlight strewn in her silken hair do frame a face and form of beauty
yet her tears do hotly fall upon the earth, even as her hands softly brush the boughs of trees, eagerly.
and so as her face pales in no uncertain terms, he steps close and whispers, lo – he approaches.
Oh, my lady sweet and friend most dear, I have a jewel for thou to fix in thine raven hair. Yea, accept it, I pray!
But, oh, my lord – I must confess, I have already a jewel of mine own that in my hair I wear.
Yes, it is of luster dim and quickly fading and not by half as glorious as the one you bear.
But, oh, my lord – I must confess, it is precious to me. And I love it so, even so I dare, my lord.
My lady loved and friend most dear, that jewel of yours, does it not make thine heart sere, a leaf upon the wind.
I pray thee, take this rising sun, this gem of greatest price. To thee I offer, maiden fair. It is thine.
and so as he kneels before her upon the land, a blinding jewel of light and beauty in his hand,
he bows his head in quick anticipation and quivering does she take this jewel from him, exultation!
and oh she lifts the rich-wrought gem to her brow and though she cries, her song is one of beauty unrivaled.
oh the veil falls from her face, oh the light beams upon that maiden’s silk and lace
and although her eyes shimmer wetly with her tears, no longer do her eyes dart to and fro in fears,
her sigh of wistfulness now resolved, her heart swells in newest blissful song, eternity approaches.
Strange Seasons
Of courtship sweet, of tongues and eyes
and varied things
Of dancing feet, of sashes, skirts
and sundry things.
Of dancing eyes, of cups of coffee
that she brings.
What more can I say to her this night, I pray?
What more can be prayed by me this day, I say?
I say.
I say.
I pray.
I daresay.
Of life so sweet, of lips and songs
that she sings.
What more do I say?
I rejoice this night and laugh this day.
I dance upon the moor and I pray.
I pray.
Raise a Glass
Hello my friends, and happy Tuesday! I am in work early today, trying to get some things done before the office fills up. So right now it is quite quiet here and I thought I’d at least take the chance to write a few words here…
A tattered flag waves in the salt fragrant wind, all its faded colours on display,
And I sigh and ask myself if it is enough to merely stand strong and silent
Or shall I pour myself another cup of coffee and begin to have my say?
I think both options are fairly equal, although words serve just to draw out the pain
And at the end of all things, I confess my heart is burdened and oh so weary
Still I trust God and look to that far country as I stand amidst the pouring rain.
Something Weird 