Tuesday, September 29, 2020

Soley

 he lives in the small brick house

at the end of the road

at the edge of the forest

and at the next step to eternity

you may have seen him

ducking his head behind

a sign he carries on his path

that reads "Bless this mess"

for he has always believed

he was the wretch like me

and told his reflection it

every time he looked in the glass

he has begged many a traveler

a passer by of his cottage

to stop and sit and stay

offering his entire world

as meager the offering is

a simple trade for a friend

but none would stay

only some would stop

and fewer would sit

not due to the surroundings of his life

though bereft, his abode was clean

but it was that hollow jar 

he kept within his chest

that is what kept away the rest

without the sound of self drumming

the cold silence fell like daggers

on many a visitor's ears

keeping the wretch company

for his many years




Saturday, September 19, 2020

Phaethon

 with winds to tear

the suns from the sky

stripping them of their azure sash

and hurling them to the rocks below

as faded moons look on and away

turning from the fallen glory

as the heavenly hosts did the same

on that fateful day for Lucifer


the only aid to the toppled suns

the wee messengers of the gods

who still fly and nestle 

in their golden breasts

to take with them the solar promise


the glimmering dust upon their hips

and wine of light their lips do sip

a kiss farewell of memory and time

this moment, this chance to take

and scatter seeds to the wind