painting the sky

I watch the falcon
swooping across sweetly
shimmering clouds
in a taut blue sky
and wonder once more
at how solitary he seems.

But perhaps I am wrong,
and the song he sings
is echoed by a thousand
blissful voices
praising an eternity
of expanding hope.

So stretch my soul
across your dreams,
my one and only love,
and carry me skyward
to paint the heavens
in ever brighter days.

the bluest sky

When breaks this heart
may it be a matter of some weight,
not a trifle but lightly beheld by some
even more easily cast aside by others
but greater yet by far than that which
‘neath bended knee did Atlas nearly fail.

When breaks this heart
may time itself in dread possessed
grind swiftly, irrevocably to a halt
and worlds shatter like plaster cast
sensitive even to the abrasive touch
of Aurora’s gossamer veil.

When breaks this heart
may it not in whispers pass unheeded
but cleave the general ear of man and
woman too with a rending of hearts and
a beating of breasts bared the like of
which even Hector could not inspire.

When breaks this heart
may not a single bird take wing aloft
nor infant in mother’s arms sweetly grin
nor child giggle lost in folly’s delight
but all take fearful notice, all beware
all cease to breathe lest this they miss.

When breaks this heart
may it find an echo in the pounding
waves of imminent doom that dance
across this soul made weary by want,
grown pale with the cast of thoughtless
wandering spirits who love embrace.

When breaks this heart
may the pieces thus rent asunder alight
on none but thy sweet wings enfolded
carried hence o’er lands untrammeled yet
guided naught but by thy sweet voice
that in verse does sing the bluest sky.

one more chance

just
one more chance
he thought, elevating aspirations
finding hope in the here
the now, beyond what was
beyond the me that has always been
lost and pointlessly meandering
between this wish and that
never quite achieving
anything of real merit

one last chance to be seen
to be heard and known
perhaps even to be loved
before the curtain descends
on a life so very ignoble,
so easy to ignore,
so shamefully dully maintained
under clouds that never
quite found the courage
to disappear

With Laya V Smith at Inverness (May 2015)

Laya

It was raining then,
soft and gentle and pristine.
Covetous I watched.

The sky enveloped me.
Petals pouted in the shadows.
Moisture clinging to my skin.

You spoke to me,
your voice fondling my heart.
Laughter tickling my hope.

Forever could I listen
knowing that you were all,
adorning every moment.

Raindrops caressed you,
and I watched enthralled.
Yes. This life is ours.

Laya at Windsor

a message

Laya at Castlerigg stone circle outside Keswick, England

a message here
so we would imagine
or merely playing at eternity?

a chance to climb
to mime to speak with the past
and breathe a false druidic air

touching cold stones
snapping swiftly disseminated
photos while leaning against monuments

a message lost
too often misinterpreted
when wrapped in selfish longing

say what you will
but our ancestors were not
messaging you or me or any else besides

and that is rightly so
for my heart bathes these stones
in cadences of wishful aspiration

we see not what is
but what we long to be
and that is what binds us to forever

aspiration
longing
hope

forever more

on hope and joyful laughter
you nourish my heart
and as the days have passed
time itself has gained substance
as you fed me the summer
and you fed me the spring
and all the seasons i came
to adore as never before
 
on touch and tantalizing whispers
you nourish my flesh
feeding the needing core of me
clammering, clinging, seeking
ever more and more of you
my always delicious lover
whose embrace exceeds all bounds
of mortal pleasure
 
on love and needful passion
you nourish my soul
imploring meaning from silence
finding and feeling
and eagerly engaging
my heart in ways so unfamiliar
to me and yet so wondrous
so very wondrous to behold
 
you are my all
my everything
my purpose
forever more

2015.05.25 Cumbria 043

Laya, so beautifully in tune with the Lake District

ascendent

in loving you
i feel the warmth
of a gentle autumn sun
bathe my face in longing

eager waves
of clarified hope
spread from your fingertips
caressing my weary limbs

in reaching for you
the withering gray
of my detested failing
falls humbled to the earth

facsimiles of being
clinging desperately
to my skin begin to peel
while healing has at last begun

when you hold me
i know the touch of truth
and the passionate embrace
of glorious ishtar ascendant

dust

the besmeared merchant sighs
his dilapidated stall shivering
even from the weight of the dust
that covers his trivial wares

useless all but for one piece
one timelessly treasured vase
facelessly reminiscent, recalling
nana’s gentle hands folding the clay

never would he have chosen
but for the direst of needs to place
her final work beneath the sun
shunned by one patron after another

a screaming child races past
a cloud of dust clinging to his heels
which kick at the angry world
with zealous determination

behind the child, lost in his clowd
an elderly woman growls, teeters
blindly rubbing her stinging eyes
as her hip collides with the stall

down it falls, beautiful in despair
down it falls, crashing to the earth
smashing a heart that had nothing
left to hope for beyond simply this

he does not scream, does not yell
does not tear at what remains
of the bedraggled gray mess strung
limply over his sweaty crown

his jowly countenance drips sorrow
into the dust of his finality
his skin cracks across brittle bones
enthroning a once proud man

as a naïve prince of fools

after goodbye

i did believe once that when my daughter left
closing the door swiftly behind her
smiling sweetly into her future
smiling beyond me with the naïve
and native brilliance of unspoiled youth
that i, quite simply, ceased to exist

i would drive away listening to whispers
chastising my heart, stupidly sniffling
gripping the wheel, glancing left and right
and remembering to sternly extinguish
such foolish hope before it could do
any more damage to my tattered soul

so convinced was i of my meaninglessness
that i courted sorrow like a committed lover
braving rejection even for the thrice cherished
chance to demonstrate how empty life
had suddenly become, so convinced in fact
that i neglected to see how full my life could be

time sits with me now in eager remonstrance
that i never forget how i too am loved
how the sun rises brisk and boldly beaming
over a world made more fertile and true
by, my darling, you—in whose heart am i
more than just a shadow of my former self

i see the two of you sitting closely together
in the light of day embracing warmth and
laughter with a voracious and enviable appetite
i see my little one follow your words
your very movements, comforted by your smile
encouraged by your wit, and i am enthralled

by the loving heart of you
by the deepening hope of she
and by the knowledge
that we three together
will write this world anew

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