Kyiv - a chapter falls

There is fire in the ice,
as if made to still, the gleam
of a more distant sun pales
against the eye's-own anger
and the heart's rush of heat.

There is fire in the icy breath
as if dragons and beasts of fury,
that crowd the mind's theater,
act out upon a glossy stage;
so much rage displayed for consumption
of a greater beast, the global feast
upon sudden misery.

[Democracy has a messy birth]

It is in the waning hours of each day,
the play unwinds; a chapter falls,
and winds of change carry
a stench of burnt tires.

For some it is a whiff of a window
from west into the west, to others a stain
upon a treasure- and Kyiv can bleed,
hot defiant blood, for change is also...
a fire, in the ice. 

delta of a smile

I softly sang to you  

and gently washed your hair

filled the air with warm whispers

and closed your eyes with touches

of soft wet lips to skin

and each water rope and braid 

became a wish...to stay, this way

I pause to take in the reflection

of things we try to say, the calm wonder

that beauty within rises to the skin

and I watch and merge into the spray

listen to falling flow as if a summer rain

and my fingertips wander, and mind follows

across curve of chin into the delta of a smile

where a seed of love...has taken root

Winter Villanelle

 We know the cold wet snow goes swirling thus

  to mute the air and feather rigid ground;

  time shapes tomorrow’s past, in trust with us.

 Above the hungered chill grown perilous

 in crystalled winds no mercy asked or found;

 We know the cold wet snow goes swirling thus

 The winter lightning flash so ominous

a gathered wrath of heat in iced surround;

Time shapes tomorrow’s past, in trust with us.

Mere toe hold 'gainst the howls precarious

as life can fly to sky without a sound.

We know the cold wet snow goes swirling thus,

when love could leave the heavens envious

of passing fateful chance of  touch abound.

Time shapes tomorrow’s past, in trust with us.

 to hold like night and stars most precious,

 for time unto time, the restless tide unbound.

 We know the cold wet snow goes swirling thus;

Time shapes tomorrow’s past, in trust with us.

Winter...

When the Sun forgets its distance
and gently warms winter air,
we remember the feelings of spring
and the swell of the earth in a day
it reaches in need to seed tomorrow.

When the streams bring cool sweetness
to arouse sleeping grounds,
an unfinished symphony : the cycles of life, resumes
with downward whoosh of gentle winds.

 Awakened from a subtle sleep, as if
barely parted eyes yet glimpsed all turnings
of wintry ways and chilled days,
in wait of the moment she lifts her cheek
to the full kiss of warmth;
to revise the vision of near-sleep and wishes.

So like me, to suddenly see
why so many wonderful dreams
need you... to breathe

The Vanity Trap

 That you please me,

captures every prescient being

allure of a mirror of choice, a craving

for the taste of love.

The trap that holds and wont let go

for it is not merely a matter of will

it is also the want and the magic

taste of love

When you were a vanity of fire

I was the moth circling

mysteries within fascination,

a fascination within a dance of light

I had forgotten how warm

darkness can be, how tender

a cold night’s search

for more that we could wish,

and that somehow together we found

the taste of love.

for Jim...

There is a poetry of repetition
of things we learn to care
the pleasantness of sunsets
dawns' that will ever be there
for we cannot imagine truly
one could be the Last

The world goes on in thought and fact
and though we fail to act to make it so-
on it will go, with  mankind in tow-
reluctant or eager, it matters little
so brittle and fickle- we, noisy we

The poetry of repetition rises thus
from us to the God we wonder
cloaked in  chance of happiness
a dance of empty-arms and shadow
until we truly open possibility
learn that which Life can be
 gather faint verse into a song... poetry
the joy of repetition follows,
a Life-time long


Happy Birthday Jim...hdm