Forests,like clouds,
Are very slow fireworks;
The densest part of a dream
Is when there’s nothing left to feel.
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Tag: Poetry
Cosmos
What separates
The two of us
Starry night
Insect life
Lady Bug
Holds fast a leaf,
Surfs the wind.
Tree watching
Apple of my eye,
Fall down for me,
I know gravity,
Human weather
On cold, windy, stormy nights,
Windows thump, rattle and beat,
The rain so quickly passed,
Like thuds of a human hearts.
Perspective
A few steps back
The mountain
Ain’t so big
Candle
A soft night where the candle lashes at the ceiling
breaking and making, a hundred veils.
With the quiet flame mirroring every rising step
and every fall, and fleeing razor breeze
a melting darkness and shrinking quiet.
The woman far away
Crimson clouds behind the walls,
Roosting near a crow caws.
Here she weaves her brocade;
The river girl seemed to fade.
Made of gray yarn like the rain
In the lonely room insane.
Meld
Like drawn breath and a weight on ones soul
the pause is heavy and cannot be held.
In the silence I wait, carrying the hot coal
till into life’s swell I meld.
Among others on the stroll,
with nomad hearts so easily quelled,
the toll that will soon cajole
and into the great sleepy waters weld.
In trance none will wish or extol;
so pleasant what once dwelled
in the dreams that stole
the pause of a soul held.
The Dreamer
In the portrait of a mind unsoiled,
freed from tangible sight
Skyward eyes opened embroiled
in her dream alien from contrite.
Thought I, of the dreamer
lost to her dream of no repent,
of what sight might keep her
in an escape so eager, so spent.
While I spied this flight
the tables and dream I study
Careful not to make dreamer alight,
in her eyes I seek prosody.
The memory of the quiet scene
and a dream the only proof
of all that had been
in those days of monsoon.
