Many many years ago, as shadows upon hills
yellow butter cups swaying within winds
sketch the trees and upon edged lands
and kissed and laughed and wrapped up upon
winter’s chill ~~ what I said you giggled
: i said, “this day lives forever.
A fragment small, in hues of dusk,
Blue ‘gainst branch, a tiny tusk,
Pierced by star, ill-luck’s own plight,
Melting with shivers through the night.
June’s eve, sweet seventeen’s delight,
Sap akin to champagne, intoxicating flight.
Wandering steps, a kiss’s grace,
A tremor alive on lips’ embrace.”

In colors upon a unforgiven land and how now
I understand what you said to me; how you
suffered.

How my letters are colors of violent haze
of morning fields of amber gray
And how i suffer for my brilliant heart
who loves all.

:: 08.07.2023 ::

Amid the corridors of artistic halls, where echoes of creation resonate, emerges a poetic tapestry woven with the threads of emotion and time. “Canvas and Verse Upon Echoes of Artistic Halls” transcends mere words to become a symphony of imagery and sentiment, bearing witness to the beauty of existence and the profound essence of shared human experience.

In the opening stanza, the poet transports us to a realm where the passage of time is as gentle as the sway of “yellow butter cups.” These delicate blooms become symbols of fleeting moments, their dance harmonizing with the winds that whisper secrets to the trees. The canvas of nature becomes a tableau of memories, kissed by laughter and wrapped in the embrace of winter’s chill. A touch of nostalgia is unveiled, where past and present intermingle like kindred spirits.

Amidst this lyrical reverie, the poet’s voice evokes an ethereal quality, as if utterances possess the power to tether moments to eternity. “This day lives forever,” declares the poet, embodying the eternal within a fragment of time. The hues of dusk blend into the blue embrace of branches, where a “tiny tusk” is pierced by a star’s radiance. This juxtaposition of light and shadow conjures ill-luck’s own plight, which gracefully melts into the shivers of the night.

June’s eve, the pinnacle of youthful exuberance, embodies the sweet delight of seventeen summers. The sap of life is akin to champagne, effervescent and intoxicating, as wandering steps and kisses exchanged unfold like verses of an intimate poem. The tremor alive on lips’ embrace mirrors the palpitations of the heart, a rhythm entwined with the pulse of shared emotion.

In the second stanza, the poet reflects upon the poignant understanding of another’s suffering. The unforgiving land becomes a mirror, reflecting empathy and connection, where the poet’s own colors are woven with compassion. The letters, infused with a “violent haze” of morning fields, conjure an aura of introspection, capturing the enigmatic nature of human existence.

The crescendo of emotion reaches its zenith with a declaration of a “brilliant heart” that loves unabashedly, extending affection to all corners of existence. As the closing date stamps this poetic musing, it etches a moment of profound introspection into the annals of time.

“Canvas and Verse Upon Echoes of Artistic Halls” is not just a poem; it is a testament to the poetic soul’s yearning to encapsulate the ineffable beauty of life. Each verse is a brushstroke, and together, they paint a masterpiece that invites readers to traverse the corridors of their own emotions and connect with the timeless echoes of artistry.

TO SURVIVE I EAT

To survive I eat
dead things…
everyday.

As a poet i am departed
from flesh into spirit
and speak the answers

My nemesis,
on the other hand,
eats things till
alive and breathing!

Sol whisper words of wisdom
and become one with me.

:: 10-13-2014 ::