The smoke-tainted wind
brushes graceful fingers
through skeletons of leaves,
discussing the night in whispers
...
January's frozen breath
chilled February's dreams.
March's steady thaw
soothed April's little fears.
...
When the poet set out to capture poems,
building cages of paper and ink,
shouted she in vain at reluctant words
to come lay down within them.
...
ashes and snow
drifting in soft and low,
falling ever so end over end
drawn over the foreground,
...
Flitting amid the bright lanterns
of stars in a winedark sky
is a way to live and be
for backyard moths and I —
...
She stands behind me
in everything that I do;
while I live worlds away
she waits for me to come back to her.
...
taking the victory, let none escape
ensuring no vengeance takes shape
through murder, pillage and rape
...
Fear has strength. It grips,
squeezing away the breath of dreams,
crushing the faith of heroes down in
the depths of memory's heart.
...
Raisin
Wrinkled morsel
Formerly plump round grape
Sun-dried, shriveled, concentrated
...
Exit
here said the sign
for Central Avenue.
But I knew it led to nowhere.
...
When the future had no past
The Eternal stretched wide
Wings of imagination
Against the chaos of a moment
...
Hearts heavy with shadows
cast aside by dreams of light,
mourners retreat in stippled dark
and the news shades the grey between.
...
I ride the latebound train tonight
alone in my car but for shadows
slouching down in far corners
...
The moon rises above the city
through an endless cycle of days.
Watching
...
Down by the sea -
You and me.
Listening to gulls cry -
Watching waves birth and die.
...
If I would see the Darkness,
I have but to close my eyes
Behind this shield, in sight of dreams
...
No, I'm not the (former) CNN anchor. Nor am I the linebacker from Texas. I live in the area around Austin, TX, but I was born and raised in Southern California. I'm a software developer by day, and a photographer and poet when I have the time to indulge myself.)
First Night Of Autumn
The smoke-tainted wind
brushes graceful fingers
through skeletons of leaves,
discussing the night in whispers
among hibernating trees
whose stately branches
bear night's jeweled canopy.
Stiff grasses laugh with delight
at the campfire's firefly sparks
dancing in splendid ritual
above enthusiastic flames
waving them onward from below
to journey upward toward
shimmering brethren above.
Fallen leaves fly forth to begin
their own midnight jaunts -
swirling in the fickle wind,
they play music to dream by
with brass chimes hanging
outside the darkened houses
dreaming of summer departed.