Stanzas

moors

2007-11-10T19:27:00.000-08:00

the moors lie as an open canvas

blown smooth by the wind,

barrenness, barrenness, barrenness that

gives birth to so much poetry.

the opening dawn brushes the heart

steals it away into the sweet, the familiar mundane

wavering chords of birdsong

weave through thick emptiness

fading, fading, fading

into the fog; straying,

waking in the rain.

lost hopes are called back

and loves wander into the sun

leaving the nest behind,

circling, circling, circling

over the gentle folds of the earth.

letters

2007-09-23T16:40:00.000-07:00

dusty letter-boxes, open
love notes in the filmy half-light
.
valentines and dry, forgotten roses
faintly fragrant of the days gone by.
.
two hands tenderly smooth out the creases
as twilight melts into a meditative dusk
.
they lie there, letters
in the tarnished moonlight
.
unread by her,
for she is blind.

She

2007-09-20T13:20:00.000-07:00

She saw his outline through the tulle,

He thought he saw her smile.

Her sleeves were white,

Her bodice tight,

She glowed with charm and style.

A slender, graceful mannequin

Who hid her burning heart within

The tiers of silk and rows of lace;

Two high-heeled shoes,

One beaming face.

Night

2007-08-22T15:50:00.000-07:00

Night comes in uniform

___with polished silver buttons,

seeking twilight.

Picks it up with dusky fingers,

hides it in his breast-pocket,

and takes out the moon.

Flips it.

Heads.

And the man in the moon reigns, a king --

_____his image encased in

___a coin lost on

the silken sidewalks of the night sky.

Day After Day

2007-08-12T10:04:00.000-07:00

Day after day, the sun falls into the horizon,
grazes the water, sends sparkling ripples
running towards me to the shore.
My two hands reach into the sea
and hold it, hold
the life it sustains
but cannot sustain the life it holds.

Generous embraces and comforting words barely reach me, instead,
they cling to my hair like the ribbons I always wanted
for Christmas as a child.

These foreign winds carry parts of me away
like dandelion seeds drifting from their slender stem
into new beginnings
and old ends…

I feel like I’m a mask moving across a black stage,
deliberately uncertain, seemingly unseen,
as I reach into the grassy meadows,
into the warm soil, and as my fingers get entangled in the roots
I want just one thing:
to open up that dusty book,
take that dewy pen,
to write poetry,
and to pray.

And to pray.

freckles

2007-08-05T19:10:00.000-07:00

I know you remember those days

when we were filled with laughter,

when we were like blossoms charmed by hummingbirds,

always looking for a chance to dazzle and demand.

When the moon fell gently

into your eyes (yes, I always knew those were not tears

shining on your lashes),

I saw that the dirt on your face was just

freckles from starlight,

because you were never well acquainted with the sun.

I’ll have to take you to see it sometime …

Is that not reason enough for you to stay?

Come, let’s live for that day.

Tears

2007-07-29T14:21:00.000-07:00

Originally written using magnetic poetry, but I've added a few of my own words.

The water sits,
The petals sleep.

Beneath the languid sky are

Rusting roads
And sagging feet.

Summer’s honey gown now aches with rain
The roses melt
Eternity’s too far away.

No moon
Today.

Spring Song

2007-07-29T14:11:00.000-07:00

Petals flutter in the breeze,

Daylight softly bathes the trees.

Fragrant, wispy breezes float

Through sunlit fields, warm and remote.

Nests constructed, frostbites broken,

Hibernations gently woken.

Glimpses of pale sprouts uncurling,

Morning flowers wake unfurling.

A promise made, an April love;

A laughing child, an soaring dove.

Contentment, freedom, truth and time

All living in a pastel rhyme.

In spring’s sweet sunlight, lives unwind

And all its lovely gifts remind

That freshness, love, light and rebirth

Will ne’er cease to enchant the earth.

The Body of Christ

2007-07-29T14:08:00.000-07:00

Our God, the Almighty Creator,
Shaped us by the work of His hands,
To shine like a light in the darkness,
And carry out all of His plans.

To some He gave hardships and sorrow,
But as soon as they called on His name,
He filled them with hope for tomorrow,
Delivering them from their pain.

To others He gave many riches,
Then taught them to cast them away,
That they might seek first the Kingdom of God,
And trust Him to provide for each day.

To some He gave voices for preaching,
To confess in the presence of men,
That Christ died so they might inherit,
The kingdom that reigns with no end.

To others He gave depth of wisdom,
To study the sky and the land,
And the deeper they dwelve into science,
They see fingerprints from the Lord's hand.

To some our God gave feet for dancing,
To worship with laughter and cheer,
While other feet travel the planet
To serve lonely hearts, far and near.

We're all part of this powerful puzzle,
And we're working each day and each night
To make His name known
Before we go home,
We are the Body of Christ.

All around us the world is in darkness,
But our Father is giving it light,
By reflecting His love in our hearts and our lives,
We are the Body of Christ.

For the Love of Roses

2007-07-27T19:48:00.000-07:00

This poem is intensely personal for me... it is about someone close to me whom I hurt through my carelessness... It is not a poem about lost love, though.

You were like a mirage,
---a winter vision melted by the sun…
-------you ran away to catch the summer in your hand
---------------------------and left your heart behind.
I had it somewhere, some time ago,
but lost it in this flooded garden,
----------------------------and I know now, now I know
I didn’t treat you right.

I miss everything about that time, and I need love
---------------------------to warm what has been frozen,
---------------------------and I need music for my hands to play.

And I can stare into the mist, oh yes,
----------------------and dream a thousand aches away,
but you won’t come
-----------------------until somebody that I am can call you back…

For my sake.
And for the love of roses.

Yodel

2007-07-25T09:08:00.000-07:00

An acrostic...

‘Yodel, daddy.’
.Over paths, through canyons,
.Daddy’s voice chased the peak of
.Everest, and
.Laced its way back to Kathmandu.

hear me

2007-07-25T08:58:00.000-07:00

hear me, beneath the morning mist

watch me draw circles in the sand

i will feed the gulls, can you hear the wind?

the rain will wash away my footprints,

i'll remain.

though nothing grows upon this salty land.

Give Me A Sunrise

2007-07-25T08:18:00.001-07:00

I wrote this poem a few years back, with the (silly, in retrospect) goal of just making it sound whimsical and mysterious. (At that time I wrote more to please others than to express myself). But since then, it has evolved into something really special to me -- a representation of my conversations with God. So I rewrote it a little and here is the final product...

GIVE ME A SUNRISE

“give me a sunrise, please.
a spring sunrise, to watch
daisies and pansies climb
from beneath the sleepy dew.
to hear birds twitter morning
into newborn birches,
and to see the blue hills
cradling the sun.

or a summer daybreak, sir,
if you please.
to feel the air gather salt
as a peaceful sea awakens
to the cry of gulls. or,
sir, let me rise

to a golden autumn morn,
if you have one of those.
to feel the shadow of frost give way
to the light,
and to run out in the pink-tinged pasture
towards the harvest. or,

sir, give me a winter dawn,
I would like that too. to
see the sharp kiss of the sun
reflect in every icy branch, so bright
it makes me close my eyes again.

so, sir,
please give me a sunrise.

you’ve one in your pocket.”