Poetry Day was on March 21st, but I hadn’t posted it up here, thought I might post up a few poems I wrote that day:

 

 

CONSIDER THE STARS

 

If I consider the Stars:
a smattering of dust,
Painter’s pensive grace
whirling forth
with violent zest;
tidal surges of
multicolored halo
breaking dawn
by Orion’s arrow–
If all were but faces,
how many are sirens
between whom I sail,
songs of prophetic incantation
swaying this way, that
to which I say: “Dare not!
I see through the lies
caught not in the cries
of femme fatale,”
they know not of intellect
but of misshapen deed;
–no more would
any answer
with frequencies
the same
as you and I,
rare
alone
against
the sky.

 

 

 

Haiku

.

.

The bark of
a distant hound
at midnight

.

.

Touch of silk
on bare skin,
summer cicadas

.

.

I remember
sunflower fields
sea of color

.

.

Warm breeze
at the peak of dawn
–– I shudder

.

.

Curtains billowing
they caress my
lost soul

.

.

Little breaths
on my cheek
she stirs.

.

.

Golden dew on leaves
my heart longs for––
the heater broke

.

.

Eating our skin
the frigid seas––
holding hands

.

.

White flakes
in ballerina’s pirouette:
dance with me.

.

.

.

White Waltz

 

Slow waltz
somber parade,
white wonder

on a black
canvas,

tapestry of the
universe.

.

.

.

Thick blanket
swallows me:
the smell of coffee

.

.

Silent stillness,
still silence,
is my pen.

.

.

We fight and tango
here and there
across a page

.

.

Distant thunder
and drops of summer
– the rainy season

.

.

Ink stains
black on white
let it bleed

.

.

.

A New Renaissance

 

The Master’s stroke
straddles the waves
of lust-filled paint —
pixels saturated bloat
surplus, overflow:

Like rain
give me life;
they dance and taunt.

A new Renaissance.

.

.

Swim beneath
ebony depths above,
these drunkards.

.

.

Fizzing amber
and a crown of white:
the world spins

.

.

.

Alcohol at night
narcissism and bullshit
– life of a poet.

.

.

Read more poems at: A Well Lighted Place