Denouement

 

Your eyes wander now,

With someone else,

Wishing.

I exist now only,

In the faces,

Of others,

Because you remember.

Your restless body gives it away,

Along with the dreams,

Which keep you awake at night.

I am no longer here,

And you no longer know,

And so we are even.

Denouement was never ours,

My love.

Time

 

 

 It was there, 

In the sound of the wind,

A fading memory,

Lost to the forgotten shadows,

Of time.  

 

 And still you whisper to me,

Quietly,

As footsteps do,

Where your name,

Once existed,

Beside mine.

 

Hands circling,

The rose,

You once held,

Now tinted with age,

As we are. 

 

And still,

I remember you,

As a child remembers,

The rose-hue fragrance,

And warmth,

Of a sweet embrace.   

 

My hands,

Forever folded,

Around the stem,

Where the petals,

Have fallen,

Into the winds of time.

 

 

Transcendence

 

All things happen for a reason. There are no mistakes in life. I have been fortunate enough in my life to meet and form relationships with people who have made a real difference in my life, sometimes very obviously and at other times more mysteriously.

I have always chosen the “road less traveled”.  And have at times wondered if I had chosen wisely. But in the end, I realize, that all was meant to be and I was wiser and more enriched for the experience or by the relationship.

This next poem, called, “Transcendence”,  is dedicated to an individual who is both my polar opposite and also a kindred spirit. Can they both exist at the same time?   

Transcendent bonds can both teach and transform us, helping us to realize the true meaning of love and commitment.  The kind of love that is predetermined and for which, for better or for worse, becomes our destiny. I hope you enjoy “Transcendence”.

 

In time comes transformation,

By convergence,

A light cord joined by unknown,

Forces,

Moving towards,

The center.

 

In dreams all possibilities exist,

Transcendence,

The polarities of which,

Unite the infinite,

Creating the improbability,

By which you and I,

Exist.

 

 

 

 

Disappearing Into A Poem

Your misguided
Words driven into the page
Common humanity
On the brink of the impossible

Haunts like shadows of a ghost
Ordering words around
Language as sculpture, disparate elements converging
Images are born
The marriage of image and word
Piercing the heart

One last look

 

“When a poet’s mind is perfectly equipped for its work, it is constantly amalgamating disparate experiences”.  T.S.Eliot

 

Ninety-Degrees

 

 

  

 

A smooth, polished stone

You are,

Temptation written all over,

A quick-silver fish, ninety degrees,

Perpendicular

 

God the incongruence of

Your manhood,

And its beauty too,

An arrow, a bow, and me the mark,

You never miss

 

I crawl on bended hands and knees

To taste the bittersweet,

With madness and desire,

I lay prostrate at your feet

 

No agony or despair,

In the enclave of this bed,

A prayer to the stars above,

 With nothing said,

Just our hands as words  

 

 

 

 

 

 

Free Fall

 

 

I had been watching it for awhile,

from a distance,

the distance between me and the tall window overlooking

the flowing river.

 

 Alerted by its small, silent screams,

 over the sirens of ambulances

crossing over the bridge under which the river flows.

The flashing red

lights hold my attention longer than those

silent screams, but they become increasingly urgent,

resplendent in sound and fury.

 

Between silent screams is the unspoken silence

of freedom,

 Beyond which can be seen the tops of maple,

alder and birch trees, 

drained of summer colour now.

 

 Outside the window are

rolling clouds of mauve and blue, reflected in

the constant ebb of the

river, a constant flow, as life itself.

 

And I am struck by something,

Liberation and its meaning,

freedom,  

inside of things that are given life.

I ponder an act of will and consider;

on what grounds shall its freedom come?

 

 

 

21rst Century Woman (Part I-Continued)

  

Twilight finally descended,

With darkness coming slowly,

amongst murmuring voices.   

Eyes,

retreating now from the veiled

pretense of their quiet disdain.      

 

For he was unlike the other men,

his hands had been weathered,

by the gathering of red earth

under strong fingers.

 

A life of sun, 

and unforgiving winds had fallen upon his brow

and shaped the deeply etched rivulets, 

around his unusual face.

 

For he could make whole again,

Given to him by the power of dreaming,

That, which was forsaken,

in the place that had given him life.

 

As water might to a seed

which finds life from adversity,

amongst canyons of parched soil.

 

He was not ashamed of this

and so we danced, under the gleam

of pressing heat and white, flashing lights,

Beads of perspiration lining the fading

tint of my lips.

Hypnotized by the breathless air and

the feel of his hands along the curve of

my hips.

 

And slowly I am drawn

towards the core of something raw,

Aware of heightened senses,

primal, seductive.

Awakened by something indefinable.

 

My feet fade into nothingness, 

Spiralling downwards,

into the night which falls away to wondrous stars,

Where did they come from so suddenly?

 

When I awaken I am wilted and without strength,

And I find him there in a halo of light;
Dark eyes peering into mine, inscrutable,
For his arms have encircled me as the halo

of the sun might,

 

And in those arms for one brief moment,

I catch a glimpse of new beginnings.