Of Nature and Humanly Order

She

As none before 

Gleams a silence

A varied seed

Nestled under murk

Guided by writ 

The hardened pen

Her faith winged on the waves of sun

Ascending vision

Twilit storm

She 

who only waltzes to the pendulum, 

Again in heart beginning to sway

As metal made winds sweep 

Her roses vined in bloom

Spinning time 

Hours into color,

Tendering souls in their tiny pools, 

A midwife

Neither bred of substance nor

Born of malice

In her frightful thorns I feel our disease

Each clipping 

Fearing its own

Hourly I inch the bowers that collapse

Listening to her strain

Neurosis perhaps

How it stirs this sea

Her grinds of cottage 

Fresh

A shelter spilled between

And in earnest I return of it humbled

Holding the worthy cause closely to my heart

I am but another ghost in her broken lighthouse 

And Spring 

A notion jealously rising with the moon

I am her creation bound to pain

Wanting

This,

As deep as all desperation, 

Spreads me

Beyond the sphere of control

Beyond the wounds of so many upon her cross

And though I wish not this poisons for any man

I pray

I pray

Though not to God for he needs less the noise 

I pray to the temple of leaves

Gathered in their salty mist 

The banquet and vine

Toiling again and again 

Intrinsic:

“Pray I not, Dear Leaf,

Dare keep such passions from burning

Pray I not when clouds are still to come

But rather, lead me bound through kindness, 

Spoil me into to your buried voices that sing

Faithful limb and bough

Lead me higher still

To the arrow in your stem

To the wisdom amber brewed

Winter tendered down to the starry wings of lark

Winged to your streams that flow beneath mountains 

To the foothill unforeseen

Carve me to time in graves and cavern

Harbor me there 

Until all that feeds is in your balance 

Is deep within your ancient cause

As I,

Forever connected

May drink, though absent,

Deeply 

The waters to cup within “

Reviews

[Kristallo]

Sensational.

She will only rise when the pendulum, again in life begins to sway
When the wind sweeps clean the rose in bloom
Spinning in clock colors,
Lingering souls in tiny pools, the midwife rain long since gone

And I humbled softly in wake of such powerful prose and lucid imagery, writ from a hand I dazzle to fathom in all his cryptic wonder. So many lines that fascinate and lure me, this was a myriad of surrealistic metaphor that gleams on the soul like the whispers of long lost friendship and it glows with the symbolism of a dream. How I love to deconstruct your words, slipping through the shadows of verse, I find myself helplessly enamored by each and every expression. Beautiful work.

[Priscilla Sayers]

With sight beyond sound, with sorrows locked in veins that pump blue rhythms, your passion soaks into what surrounds you dear poet. Wounds leak from eyes covered with leaves waiting to bud. Blossoms stalled and sharp shards of Winter's breath still rustle through limbs bare but wise, knowing each moment brings what torments that fills today will surely fade into tomorrows yet to come.

[Little Whisper]

I will read this again and again... to this I say... Amen.