And I am changed again
Molded with each experience
Shaped
Formed
Smoothed
As I am changed again
Each acts as the potters hands
Places
Persons
Odors
As a liquid conforms to the vessel
As clay responds to the hand
Flowing
Shifting
Growing
And I am changed again
and again and again and again
Saturday, August 26, 2017
Thoughts After a Funeral
The Flame
Today I viewed a Friend of MIne
Her spirit gone
Shell Left behind
I observed in state she lay
Concrete walls
Within she’ll stay
Sealed airtight, safe and alone
That fragile shell
Of Skin and None
When Pluto makes his call for me
I ask you please
Don’t bury me
Don’t cover me with clay and stone
Free my atoms
From this fleshy home
I ask for fire that consumes the flesh
I have no desire
For a natural rest
Prometheus will dine on me
And spread my ash
On air land and ea
My molecules and atoms swarm
On sooty plume
Of air so warm
Mariah acts now as my guide
Eagles soar
Now at my side
Freed then from the bonds of birth
My atoms will
Encircle earth
The air you breathe, the clouds you see
Shall all
Bear molecules of me
So give me fire to cleanse this shell
The flame of heaven
Not that of hell
And everything that you can see
Will be a bit
Of the soul of me
Today I viewed a Friend of MIne
Her spirit gone
Shell Left behind
I observed in state she lay
Concrete walls
Within she’ll stay
Sealed airtight, safe and alone
That fragile shell
Of Skin and None
When Pluto makes his call for me
I ask you please
Don’t bury me
Don’t cover me with clay and stone
Free my atoms
From this fleshy home
I ask for fire that consumes the flesh
I have no desire
For a natural rest
Prometheus will dine on me
And spread my ash
On air land and ea
My molecules and atoms swarm
On sooty plume
Of air so warm
Mariah acts now as my guide
Eagles soar
Now at my side
Freed then from the bonds of birth
My atoms will
Encircle earth
The air you breathe, the clouds you see
Shall all
Bear molecules of me
So give me fire to cleanse this shell
The flame of heaven
Not that of hell
And everything that you can see
Will be a bit
Of the soul of me
Thursday, August 24, 2017
early to rise while you sleep
Cursed, I am, to rise well before the sun
Daily
Living another life before others rise
So, I piddle, I sweat, I think, I run
Daily
Before seeing another set of open eyes
In the cool, dark solitude of morning
Wistful,
I imagine you drifting in oceans of sleep
Softly breathing, tangled in covering
Wistful
Sighs and soft smiles as dreams slowly creep from the deep
Pretty feet and painted toes peek from sheets
Shadows
Bathe you as night begrudgingly yields to the day
And I sit, breathing deep, as my pulse beats
Shadows
Recede, Bands of light inch across where you lay
Reluctantly freed from a dream’s deep water
Slowly
My sweat has cooled, I rise to face Come-What-may
My thoughts turn to you, the mermaid’s daughter
Slowly’
Rising to join the chaos of another new day
Daily
Living another life before others rise
So, I piddle, I sweat, I think, I run
Daily
Before seeing another set of open eyes
In the cool, dark solitude of morning
Wistful,
I imagine you drifting in oceans of sleep
Softly breathing, tangled in covering
Wistful
Sighs and soft smiles as dreams slowly creep from the deep
Pretty feet and painted toes peek from sheets
Shadows
Bathe you as night begrudgingly yields to the day
And I sit, breathing deep, as my pulse beats
Shadows
Recede, Bands of light inch across where you lay
Reluctantly freed from a dream’s deep water
Slowly
My sweat has cooled, I rise to face Come-What-may
My thoughts turn to you, the mermaid’s daughter
Slowly’
Rising to join the chaos of another new day
Tuesday, July 4, 2017
the temple
Whose hand placed this stone?
How many hands
Now only memory and dust,
Laid hands upon this stone?
Whose sweat marked this stone?
With effort under the sun
Or with effort for the gods?
Whose belief wet this stone?
Whose blood stained this stone?
In a city of pain, sacrifice
A gift to feed ancient gods
As their blood stained the stones
How many hands
Now only memory and dust,
Laid hands upon this stone?
Whose sweat marked this stone?
With effort under the sun
Or with effort for the gods?
Whose belief wet this stone?
Whose blood stained this stone?
In a city of pain, sacrifice
A gift to feed ancient gods
As their blood stained the stones
my dancer
Her delicate profile
Etched in
Cameo porcelain
A blush rises at her cheek
She does not walk
She glides
Into the room
Like a cool summer breeze
Perfectly she moves
Pirouettes
Like a dancer
Her arms gracefully arch
She floats from one position
To another
Like a river
Flows effortlessly by
She cannot contain it
The dance
It moves her
In joyous release
Etched in
Cameo porcelain
A blush rises at her cheek
She does not walk
She glides
Into the room
Like a cool summer breeze
Perfectly she moves
Pirouettes
Like a dancer
Her arms gracefully arch
She floats from one position
To another
Like a river
Flows effortlessly by
She cannot contain it
The dance
It moves her
In joyous release
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)