In the green, a want
is growing – still and hopeful-
rapt. And knowing that the spell
is brief,
a pin-point moment -lust-
a thief glances – no-
it clutches
hold and deepens,
dilates what was touched
and seasoned.
Lines and edges, flecks and flux
core and flesh, entwined amok.
And somehow, moments in the end
a cured and coupled image
penned, a brush too lightly
to offend,
and focused there,
she starts again.
She is demure , with longing eyes
that watch scenes pass into relief.
Past-written and clothed in the moment
just before an outburst,
not a full-fledged flower,
but a blossom,
in paced steps-
dear to watch over
hands to hold-
leaned into,
fixed in secret,
there opened
and told.
it begins as a wisp
neither taut nor explicit
a scribbled idea
on a plain yellow post-it,
sitting for weeks
til the stickiness faded
then moved ’round the table
it’s purpose degraded
and ultimately lands
in pile, curled – misled
like so many of my thoughts
of desire go unread.
Somewhere, the moonlight
turned to give credence
to her tangled removing.
A breaker rolled in
that enticed
and embraced her.
Demands awakened-
her own hurt and pooling.
Somehow, a surging rush
made the unknown electric.
Bristling with joy,
fingered in choosing,
a lover in darkness,
confessing and soothing.
There is little left
of thread that ties and undulates
through fabric’d whys.
The whats have gone the wayside now
with time – the when –
don’t ask me how.
This never was infinite string
-ain’t what it used to be,
this thing that stitched my words
in canvas, starched and mended-
just as December ended.
So, with anew, fresh double cloth
the patterns swirl
without the gloss and keep me warm
in thoughts subdued
of music,
sweet – the words are true.
As with the angels that caroled
His arrival in stable, bare.
Praises, Alleluia, Hallelujah!
A King is there.
And with the shepherds,
Who worshipped with humble hearts,
Praises, Alleluia, Hallelujah!
The Savior has come. To start
God’s kingdom on earth,
A baby, a birth
Of Hope and Salvation
Of Love, Joy and Mirth.
As with the Wise Men
That wandered in wonder of stars,
Praises, Alleluia, Hallelujah!
We’ll find where we are.
At Christmas, our Hopes revive!
Yuletide, our Joy is alive!
Open your hearts and sing
Tell every living thing-
Praises, Alleluia, Hallelujah
The birth of a King!
********************
While this is unabashedly joyful (with many exclamation points), Christmas is a joyful time. I can just imagine this being sung with brass and tympani.
My hopes for you (if you do or do not celebrate Christmas)is a happy, blessed day.
A very Merry Christmas!
I want to see matters before
the sun rises, in a way
like mad hatters -yet still analyzes.
I want to walk slowly in
view of the mountains,
with flocks of black starlings
murmuring – counting.
I need to retrace you with
scripts of profession, the
kind that embraces, encourages –
freshens.
And here in my twisting, revolving
release- enlisting your
breathless entreaties – I cease.
between the nothing-dom
and something-ness
the lumens lean,
twisting axes-
a helix
in ideal darkness.
visionary – for both
a twinkle of wonder and awareness
of position-
modest in winds and poses
that once in a blue moon
align with man’s sense of mystery
on a coiling staircase.
shameless, peel back
in brazen arcs your wings-
dormant no more.
eased and alarmed
fire and calm
dark matters-
lights palm
her secrets.
glitter gold,
and watch reflections
patter on,
as specks surround
and attach beyond.
scintillate,
in flashing glows
the ions of your
aureate tongues.
move,
and flicker
until your crests
bestow a shade of flare-
and spread this frenzied
throe upon the night’s
affair.
A silver weave of bangles
that you placed on your wrist
held a star, a snowflake
and proof of your fire-kissed
soul. I could only speak words
that lingered on my tongue
and could not see them
clasped to silver- hung-
and fighting the flames
of your restless heart.
Pressed upon my mind,
Such are the things that fuel and start
the creation of gemstones.
Taps and Ratamacues 