Kenneth English

In the early dawn as the night leaves,
A quiet observance of a gaggle of birds
Somewhere tittering in the trees.
Peace in a sigh like a tardy waterfall
...

When at times I feel the slipping
Into the sloth of despondent
Mental factors,
And fear structures
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In the beginning, I sought hope.
Dragging myself upward through the chasm of my anguish,
A desperate clawing ascension.
My mind would squirm
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I fear pride has brought us poor coin,
And in a blind indifference
We piled ourselves with resistance
To the touch of the kind.
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Sometimes things can not be correctly said,
The feeling is there but words are spare,
That dangling thing thats left unsaid
With simple words is still threadbare.
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Pretending to be old,
An elder branch
Cloven and blanch
Clustered with mold, gold
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Solar flare,
Radiant hold
In and of wave'n hair,
One not told
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Little sparrow, windward sprinting sprite
On a magnetic journeys forgotten way,
Fleeing the onerous winter appetite
Through the current for which its held sway.
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Bickering squirrels up in a tree
On the porch watches the red dog.
In and toward the hound waits,
Anticipating one at least to fall.
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You spoke plain enough, whose eyes wouldn't see it,
Ungrasped persuasions pawed with pitiful tools,
Misgivings of mine, only excuses
For what was not passed between you and I.
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Purple lady slippers grow
Down rails over seas,
On clifftops to sieze
A small shallow hold,
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In devotion to my dear sweet blossom,
Sweetest in every single hour.
In my spirits tide, among the flotsam
On your knees I will beg to devour.
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In and of itself the nectar
Of a flower in terms of space
Time matter to that certain vector,
That path, of the bee's swaggard grace:
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In an ununited mind
The shutters close
And a depeserate,
soft darkness comes.
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Hearing the crickets charm
In sigh of inky autumn wind,
a belie in the call they send.
Unabridged song,
...