I ride the dragon

cross night’s black velvet
I ride upon the dragon’s
back of golden scales
fiery breath my guide
shooting star to those below
mythic tale begins

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Taste the rain

taste it on the air
the mother’s ungent perfume
even deep in dream

smell earth newly damp
by rain fall on parched brown ground
grass and flowers sleep

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This old shirt

once new this old shirt
frayed but still a favorite
weave of memories

sand between my toes
cabo sun and moonlit nights
perfect summer love

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Seasons come and go

simple notebook pen

soliloquy on the page

journal diary

a day once removed

to march cadence on blue lines

fill each empty page

siphoning angst hurt

experience clears the mind

for new adventure

summer’s page turned

winter now takes center stage

spring waits in the wings

 

Golden rain of leaves

aerie, eyrie, perch

leaves float on unseen breezes

I sit pen in hand

wanting to capture

it all on the page but words

cannot hold the wind

My aerie is my place on the second floor of a 4-plex located in a colorful Southside neighborhood.  It is a small town within the larger town that is Birmingham.  My balcony as well as my studio/office have a view of the street below.

I write here, paint here and yes sometimes I just watch the parade of life below.  My desk sits in front of a window, so I can ignore the mess as I work and look out at the view.  My view is a large tree whose branches are a stone’s throw away where birds come and stare at me as much as I stare at them.  The street below is quiet with the occasional.  Squirrels run from neighborhood cats; occasional joggers run by morning and evening, young children and university students come and go from school, cars leave for work in the morning and come home in the evening

From my aerie, I watched the leaves, a golden yellow rain fall in flurries from the tree out front.  Nature parades past my window, seasons come and go, rain, snow,  trees go from barren to green to a rain shimmering autumn leaves carried on the wind leaving them bare once again.

No words of mine can do them justice.  Catch the rain and the wind, try without end.

 

Warm cold night

faded silk pjs
warm me this first cold fall night
wind blown leaves still cling

I hear their rattle
beyond the open window
left in summer’s wake

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Words and flame

​we laid the altars
gathered in circle cast words
calling down the moon

elements each their
own direction power rides
every word and flame

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2012 Poleshift

earth – its third motion
aperiodic third move
over balanced spills us all
the wyse prepared us
against barbaristic lapse
prophet’s twenty twelve

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Gentle bonds

I would like to leave
walk or drive but I cannot
because she cannot
I would run away
but I must stay gentle bonds
like bands of steel bar
my way unbroken
porcelain doll midst it all
at long last she sleeps

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When do you let go

outside my aerie

the tree holds tight its withered

leaves loathe to face frost’s

bitter bite unclothed

unbecoming rags belie

her grace hold no warmth

deny the natural

order of nurture for spring

usurped by a shroud

 

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