IT has been the same since birth
first the traumatic life of entrance
into such tenderly love…
both of mother and loving mate
followed by horrific separation
such we humans suffer in fate
:: 02-03-2014 ::
IT has been the same since birth
first the traumatic life of entrance
into such tenderly love…
both of mother and loving mate
followed by horrific separation
such we humans suffer in fate
:: 02-03-2014 ::
HOW we fear the judgment
upon death so near
The fear of sin
weighed against
eternal life
But through death
arrested is sin
for the dead
cannot sin!
:: 01-29-2014 ::
GRAINS of sand
such is time
but a grinding mind
sets its focus
throughout its life
not how to live
but how to die
:: 01-29-2014 ::
WINTER her final Spring
in bed ridden fashion
such life fiercely battled
Industriousness bought
through pain and tears
Through force of life
and broad strokes of art
travels she made
upon creative youth
And Death spoke, assuredly
but crept in delicate fear
and begged a pardon
— a release of guilt
Her flower withered…
but not from existence
a pollination across hills
to the fields of other-there
:: 01-29-2014 ::
SUCH a surprise
that time brings
a larger span
of knowing
by existing
and living
That life at youth
— bitter sweet
but upon the bed
of death
— sweetly bitter
:: 01-29-2014 ::
AND if the night could scream
who would hear such a thing
the burrowing night creature
maybe a mockingbird or two
It is not a practical thought
but one of abstract feeling
I know the sound of anguish
to hear such sound each night
— upon my window pane
:: 01-28-2014 ::
I DIED not upon a cross
but within the space
of a crawl
The pain was more
than a swollen wave
that crashes upon a shore
But the pull remains
and my shoreline’s thinner
If a fish I would drown
within the sand
that a whale would devise
a plan to evade your tide
So the world I crucify
and slip into an ocean deep
:: 01-25-2024 ::
SOME say death is by chance
a twist of fate
— merely happenstance
And other take the rein
believing death by their own hands
I say death is the magician
A slight of hand — misdirection
— allowing humans to believe
the end is fate or self-fulfilled
But angels see the COLD PACT
forged before time itself
Life is a ledger and always paid
— when balance is due
:: 01-12-2013 ::
I INTERRUPTED the death
of a quaint soul this day
who wandered needlessly
across frozen fields in May
She spoke a single word
— beloved…
Her soul cleaved into
part of a half from two
Gently held within my hand
With a word I put them
— back into a whole
and then I spoke
a single word…
— beloved
:: 01-22-2014 ::
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