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Weeping Muse

Weep, Muse, and shed summation--
Betrayed by lesser station,
Left swimming in frustration:
Keep my heart nestled, and weep.

Flail, rage in ways most unkind,
'Til justified response find,
And then, with your path refined:
Keep my mind able, and deep.

Strike, Muse, make the mountains shake,
Stir sufficient vengeance, quake
Until Midnight's tears we slake:
Keep me rapt in your passion.

Breathe, exhale dawn triumphant,
Rise, and with calmer voice, vent,
Loose mighty visions, bent
On my growth and construction.

And forgive, Muse. Future calls,
Not Intent to echo halls
Of deaf minds--and vengeance palls:
Dispatch these bold distractions.

But first, Muse, for loss must steep,
Tears as salve for souls' scars deep,
Held soft in memory's keep:
Tomorrow we write. Now weep.

Fighting The Reaper, Blood On Sheets

Dreaming, blue spits ebon sparks: manifests the tattered soul,
Mournful eyes of ashen dark writhing on The Reaper's pole.
A crucible of pain I saw, and such to shudder men,
And sought to turn away but found that I could not, just then!

The hooded wielder of the scythe was carving up the soul,
As howls of horror pierced my heart and shook The Reaper's Pole
I scream to break my witnessing, "Thanatos, if you dare,
I would challenge for this soul you carve with cursed care!"

The Thing did turn to me and grin a grey and toothy smile,
Imparting sense that he had known my presence all the while,
It pointed slender bony hand to indicate the soul
That all this time was slithering upon The Reaper's Pole

And it was me I saw upon the curved and slender blade,
The shock of recognition through me both at once was made,
I screamed for light to curse the dark, to break the Reaper's Pole,
And woke in bed to find myself within the Reaper's role.

First Kiss

Halfway parted lips
Trembling, awaiting a sign—
Permission granted

Year End Toast

Here's to the men and the women we've lost
Protecting our lives and our dreams
Here's to the hope of recouping the cost
Of the ill-fated Wall Street schemes

Here's to renewal, rebirth and respect,
Grass roots giving rise to new hope,
Here's to success for the POTUS-elect,
For we're at the end of our rope!

Here's to bright futures and love that abounds,
The power of positive thought,
Here's to life measured in moments, not pounds,
And choices we're proud to have wrought.

Here's to a year so much better than last,
With pantries and hearts filled to burst;
Two Thousand Nine, with your prospects so vast,
Come slake our unquenchable thirst!

The Now

Instantaneous,
My core cradled in comfort--
Our stolen moment

Let this love suffice,
Encompass all that I am;
Surrendered to you.

A Taste Of Chardonnay

Savoring wine I did not drink,
Your kiss leads me gladly toward temptation—
Sacramental testament to your
Confessional eyes

Such kisses,
Evidence that God hears our whispers,
Passionate pleas, and crying ecstasies
Lead to trembling touches,
Tender blessings which I gladly tithe.

Deliverance springs from
Savored temptation.

Our communion—
Spirits and bodies merge,
Forms entwine as souls unravel—

Whispering silent blessings
We craft our own ceremonies
In bursts of light and heat—
Tender fever sanctifies commitment
With gasping confirmation.

Let others seek The Rapture;
We speak of Bliss
Found in a taste of Chardonnay.

Lost and Found

The leavings of my poesy lie withered,
Crumpled beside torn lace and weathered leather.

Gathering both thoughts and clothes, I left you only snippets,
Idle glimpses missed in a loaded abandoning . . .

Fevered thoughts brought unbidden to the fore
Lying desolate on the bedroom floor--
Steaming dreams torn from notebook seams
Ragged pages ripped from reams

Never meant for eyes or ears
Those fallen tears and walled-up fears
That I have hidden many years
Fell unnoticed in our passion
Clawed aside in feral fashion,

Then, spent, and sense regained,
We separate in form—you wash and I,
Reluctant to be noticed in the gathering

Miss the final verse--
Ah, it couldn't be worse.

That page, fallen in your purse. . .

Snowburn

Stand within the whirlwind tasting flakes upon your tongue
Feel the full embrace of winter’s fury
Wallow in the snow banks piled as if you still were young,
Joyous in the moment of the flurry.

Take the day, stay home from work, and bask in Nature’s glory,
Romping as a child among the drifts.
Build another memory, a chapter in your story,
One that grips your spirit firm, and lifts.

I met the world in winter; I was born a solstice child,
Every year I greet the seasons turning,
Never have I once wished for a winter that was mild,
‘Tis the snow that keeps my soul from burning.

Each Branch A Memory

I love the Christmas season with its twinkling little lights,
Stockings hung and gifts under the tree,
Whose ornaments bring memories of erstwhile Christmas nights
Playing games with all the family.

Young and old would gather round to feast and celebrate
Playing cards and watching football games,
Helping younger cousins set up toys or make a plate,
Taking pictures meant for future frames.

But everyone is older now, or moved away, or passed--
Tradition's hard to hold when we're apart--
The young have grown up, having their own families at last,
Some we only Christmas with at heart.

Reflective now, I glance upon the pictures on the tree,
The portrait ornaments of Christmas past,
And smile to know the Christmases the future holds for me;
Branches holding memories to last.