Category Archives: poetry

Again

I was thinking
of that day
again
when the sky
boiled black
and the dark elves came
athirst for blood
my friends falling, falling
my arms, blood-washed,
too weary to make
one more stroke
and you came
descending in light
a fire of vengeance

The skalds sing the song
of that day
again
they make it pretty
the young men
laugh and say,
“this dry stick
did these deeds?”
I pay them no heed
how can you listen
to children
who never had to see
the face of the world
crack open, and bleed.

Winter has come
the north wind is sharp,
again
I sit closer
to the fire,
someone else’s bearskin
about my shoulders
all I have now
is someone else’s
my food, my bed
my fire
only my memories
are truly mine

There will be no
Valhalla for me
a straw death is my doom.
Still…
for the sake of that
one hour, that one day
perhaps a grace
will be extended
I will see my friends
I will see you
kiss your lips
and walk with you,
hand-in-hand,
again

Advertisements

A father’s confession

To Kate:

I cannot tell the sun

to stop for you,

nor the moon to

wait upon your convenience.

I cannot tell the sea

to stand back so you

can gather sea-shells and starfish.

I cannot command the stars to come down

to garland your neck with glory

and light your path in the darkness.

I cannot rebuke the wind

so that it gives you only

the kiss of soft breezes.

I cannot do even these

little things for you.

I can only tell you

I love you

always, always, always.

 

 

 

Sunday Photo Fiction – November 8th 2015– Autumn

My response to the Sunday Photo Fiction challenge for November 8th 2015– a flash fiction inspired by this image–

129-11-november-8th-2015

****************************

Not quite yet
there’s yet some green
in the tips of the leaves
a little life still
But soon
soon enough
it will sleep
as will I
does it regret
the cloudy days
when it saw no sun?
The rain that fell
on other forests?
Regrets
are understandings
of what might have been
and were not
and cannot be
It will sleep
as will I
long, dark and cold
bare
unlovely
when the sun rides high again
it will flourish
but will I?
but will I?

An Encounter on 20th Avenue, July 21st, 2015

There are yet good things in the world
I know, because I met you
this morning, on 20th Avenue
The two of you, in fact
Stellula calliope, perhaps,
although my ignorance is great
You zoomed and drank from flowers,
perched in a tree and preened,
and then came and hovered
ten feet above my head
as if stopping to wonder
why I wept

Impressions while listening to Jóhann Jóhannsson’s “Fordlandia”

Solar winds
scour the sky
Frozen worlds
locked in mystery
The dreadful fall
of burning spaceships,
lost in heaven-spanning battles.
Silent monuments
of forgotten races,
tombs entrapping the secrets
of millenia.
The screaming passage
of the event horizon,
skimming darkness and chaos,
to fall, fall, fall
back to a morning
beside the sea
I watched you walk
barefoot, smiling,
in the sand,
and I feel the touch
of a lost-love’s hand