Watch Box

I saw my Grandpas watch today,
twas new in the rectangle box,
a large glass face reflected
round, like the eye of a morning fox.

It was the watch they wore, he said,
as they flew high over head,
from Germany to Bulgaria,
many hours over the land.

He thinks back to so long ago,
memories like coffee, at arms length,
or in this case, a curve of the wrist
is the only space one needs.

How the rings of time are spun
the memories shadows, and solitary ones
dance in the light of the aged mind,
the present is ere, the past holds the time.

Pearl Ice

Pearl ice and ocean blue,
Thoughts that are real and thoughts untrue
Like clouds across a summer sun
A mile along and more to run.

The wisps of clouds pervade my mind
Ice crystals on my soul
Water surely falls so free
If it has someplace to go.

The ocean vast the heart knows well
And The world is ruled by love
Yet the way not always perfectly clear
With clouds and stars above.

Angel

I did not think it at the time,
when you passed by, crossed paths with mine,
I was not focused, did not see,
as you passed by so casually.

I did not know it at the time,
on your departure, that look in your eye,
and you could see what was all in mine,
and held the universe at your sight.

Your voice rang far, the eye a dance of light,
how foolish I was, asking for the repeat,
but you said the words, you said them twice,
Good luck to you and have a good life.

I did not think it at the time,
but I later remembered the dream,
a dance of the eye, a tilted cheek,
things aren’t always what they seem.

Three sixty five and another seven,
A day so dim yet prime,
rain will surely fall from heaven,
yet fall not short from time.

Elegy

I trimmed down the highest rose,
the thorns, the buds, and all,
and placed them in a tall blue vase,
so bright, yet bound to fall.

I placed them with some polemones,
five petaled whirled,
and the sunlight through the window,
did glow the soft fleur like pearl

The voice fills my memory,
song of the soul so bright,
flight in the spring, the spirit freed,
like the flower turns to seed.

Blessed is each new day,
when the sun drifts over the night
the movement, the dance, the song rings on
a world of shadows, the path is light

Way of Light

Things are not what they seem,
says the one caught in the dream,
these players from a different cast,
waltz the stage disguised in masks,
and there is one who tells a tale
of the watching waiting clockwork elves,
not in the stone nor river banks
in the crumbling walls, the city street,
the cracked grey pavement under their feet,
let the tale, the truth be told,
the eye that sees, the one that beholds,
is the same as the reflection in the eye,
the actor, the player of the disguise,
beyond that there is a shadow cast,
for the light surely travels fast,
like shadows, clockwork, like the night,
let the tales, and truth be told,
the dark travels fast as the light unfolds.

Higher Sight

See for what is beauty
and stand by what is right,
Sing the songs of ancients,
and hold them your sight.

The canvas is full with color,
so silent yet so loud,
this sings to soul itself,
by the richly adorned shroud.

I’ll soar with the altospect
wind silent on my wings
and the hues of the painted sky
‘so to the spirit sings.

Sing, for the dawn is near,
See the colors through light
a brighter glow each day revealed,
from first lucem to the eye.

Eye and the light

The years have crinkled the skin,
And the lips may sink in,
But the eye shines brightly yet,
With care and joy and whim.

The eye is but a reflection,
And the waters are warm with light,
And the surface so bright does shine,
In truth, and love and right.

Step back the fire is too white
And it matters not the content of the eye,
For a glorious light rules the earth,
Mist upon the mountains high.

Return of the Native

Will the streams still flow as clear,
Will the numbers of the flocks be strong?
Will the wind still carry the pleasant sounds
Of the quiet village and the mountain song?

Will the sun still be as warm,
Will the winters still be so cold,
Will still the crimson sky fires burn,
Will the aspen leaves be as gold?

Will the soup spice flavor tickle the tongue,
When a long day ends with an evening begun,
Will the flutes still ring the same melodies,
Will the beat be the same on the leather drum?

Will the herbs in the air still be as sweet,
Will the earth be as firm under my feet,
Will the spring herald the same old joy,
Will the same folk be present for me to greet?

Or will the land be barren now,
A desolate field of fire and war,
Will the same structures stand,
That have firmly lasted for ages before?

Will the stories still be remembered,
When the tongues to prisons are tied,
Will the people’s will and strength abound,
When their greatest dream has died?

Will the valley be all toil and strife,
Will the village totem be a city gate,
Will the cry to the spirits beyond,
Be a pledge made to the state?

Will the river water be dark with blood,
Will the wolf have made his kill?
May the waters still be cool and clear;
May hope and life prevail.

Bitter Wind

A barren field, which way to turn,
The paths all the same are worn,
The dusty earth, the pallid sky,
the heavy winds, a forlorn sigh.

The waters move the planet well,
Yet so very laden is the swell,
the rush, the current be so strong
Mountains are sand before too long.

What to do when all is gone,
Perhaps listen to the winds sad song,
Or the birds that carry the ages tune,
They comfort the spirits so alone.

Oh, Chagrin, the bitter cold wind,
The dust is painful in my eye,
Let the ages fall beneath me,
Let the waters run til dry.

The Word

Why are the most expansive hearts,
Limited by the conveyance of words,
There is only that interval of time,
To which the soul must be heard.

The birds are many over the land,
No wonder anymore the grace to fly,
The fifth day and this day be theirs,
And the sixth and the rest be mine.

Whether the raven parts the air lost,
Or the dove reveals a better way,
Still the sea never ceases to toss,
And the waves fall over the bay.

Beauty, the earth that brings forth life!
And the strength of toilers under sun,
Each sent forth into the waves,
May forge new paths to freedom.

So quick does warm summer turns frosty cold,
And faster the sun that cracks the ice,
Heed with caution the visions revealed,
Where does the dark turn to light?

It is the destiny, it is the will,
To raise the soul to the highest peak,
And from the first words e’er spoke,
We were blessed with life to be.