May I never cease to wonder:
At the cascading crystal blue waters
Of the waterfall; at each new dawn's
Sweet sunbursts of flesh pink magic.
Winter's last rose; rose of regret:
O how once your radiant beauty
Shimmered in summer's potent hour.
Now your faded petals offer,
These days, everyone seems distracted by their
Portable universes; their cool, handheld phones.
Nobody seems inclined to engage or converse
With anyone else. O what a sad state of affairs!
O we poets are poor creatures:
Scratching around amidst life's ruins;
For Time's worn out, discarded details,
Like that famed scavenger: Rauschenberg.
I've heard the mindless mantras
Oft repeated & I'm not convinced:
'The guns provide us with protection!
The guns represent our freedom! '
It's a tranquil night.
On the distant horizon,
I suddenly glimpse
A moonlit sailboat, slowly
These relics are odes to creation:
From planets to fragments of atoms.
Certain turning of the sun; crooked fork
Of the trees and their sprawling branches;
On Bonfire Night, a thousand bright lights
Explode in November's autumnal skies:
Moon Shadow, Crackling Glitter, Comet Bomb;
Deadly Dragon, Pearl Shots and Flaming Sun;
O you were once wild and beautiful
When summer's rays reclined in your hair
And your Being blazed in valleys and hills.
O you were a force so vital and rare