Wednesday, December 29, 2010
the news of your passing
leaves them silent
but there’s no one left to preach to
so a stranger gives your eulogy
because of years spent in memory’s effusion
life’s elemental scream
fades to a whispered prayer of confusion
a final exhalation
that no one hears
shadowy fingers of night sky
unveil a swollen moon
with memories no longer to be recalled
their mother is gone
sharp angled barren branches
hint at this January moon’s frigidity
whose white hot passion
casts shadows on spray painted concrete
where I live
It seems to me that people are generally drawn to poetry that rhymes, so I rewrote the above poems to make the rhyming one below. Which do you prefer?
January Moon Rhyme
Night’s shadowy fingers unveil
A moon swollen with memories
Clouded recollection is impaled,
On the spires of winter stark trees.
News of your passing lingers,
Silencing those who knew you.
Your eulogy is given by a stranger;
There’s no one left to preach to.
Left behind, moon light raids
Years spent in memory’s effusion,
Your intrinsic scream fades
To a whispered prayer of confusion.
Final exhalation, this January moon
Hints at abysmal frigidity,
White hot quiescence carves a rune
That no one will ever see.
Shadows cast, their tales forgotten,
On dark empty streets of your begotten.
Friday, December 24, 2010
suddenly takes flight
like the hearts of lovers
when lust is consummated
only to find
when the magic washes over
soaring unrealistically high
propelled by adrenaline
over bridges meant to be
in favor of a mid-air stall
last second parachute
cushions the end of a free fall
alighting further down stream
in a sinking boat
as quixotic as
and yet, unable to do
what it was meant to do