Summer Fancy

Across the dank protean mire
On the slope of a mowed field
The breeze rumples a page over
And the lass missed the poets last verse
Bewitched by the youth’s jogging pace passing by
She dared imagine his arms about hers
And pondered about passion’s cruel curse

The sudden rain scampered our lass
While the boy turned north and to dorm
The promise of Summer freshened newly
Like Latin winds bringing Mercury back to Rome
And a new Arachnida’s web is woven
Life and Death never pause nor long tarry
A half Moon finds the eve’s far horizon
Rooms aren’t the only thing empty back home

Shy winking stars spangle up
To make smart the Southern sky
Lass and lad miles apart wash dishes done
Neither knowing the others’ longing heart
Many mini plans made for reading nooks
A mighty edifice rises in the Tangipahoa
A counselor and her crook’s getaway suite
In a half-told love tale just at the start

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Author Of Quaint Cuteness

So he found his way into the next street bar—
So too many sunsets he’d watched on his own.
He spied an open seat next to suspicion;
He sat: the leatherette surrendered with a groan.
He’d read that other’s fine published work—
Smaller now, he slow-ordered a few subsequent reds;
An author of quaint cuteness in a virtual realm in rhyme;
The rest of his well-bought confidence littered in shreds.
Darkly he found finally his Feng shui front door;
Next time he promised himself to leave on the light.
What’s that cold tightness crawling up his arm?
Her glam memory long ago dimmed from all sight.
Jack meowed hard, his breakfast was kinda late—
The neighbor poured the proper measured morsels into the bowl.
Calls were made, tears will come later, most real, certainly—
The author of quaint cuteness in his virtual realm of howl.

Just Dance

Some poems are wine lyric
Two goblets Clos du Bois
Others are simple syrup
Just so much blah, blah, blah

Now some too-humble wrought lines—
An old wrenched heart softly pines

Heart-tears gathering inside
Aching to let go and fall;
Words mocking a conscience
Of feelings so cold t’would appall

Terpsichore blanches, and then wilts,
Suffers in her marble a new deep fault:
Who can answer for these deaths?
Young stars ripped from the celestial vault

Haruka and Meechaiel pas de deux—
What are we all ever going to do?

The pain lingers…
The words won’t come…
Broken thoughts slip chalky fingers;
The glib finally struck dumb

How to unsee a sunset?
How to unhear the rain?
Where do we put these feelings?
Where do we plant the pain?

A far lightening pirouettes across your glance—
Dance for Haruka, dear friends…just dance

Go On

The guilty aren’t all punished,
The guilty aren’t all caught,
And life goes on,
Like as not.

The innocent aren’t all saved,
The innocent aren’t all freed,
And life goes on,
Ponderous, without heed.

Chords round, all in a tumble.
Broken bass lines oft fumble;
And life goes on,
All Nature in a jumble.

The deserving aren’t all rewarded,
The deserving aren’t all relieved,
And life goes on,
If such is to be believed.

The worthless aren’t all discarded,
The worthless aren’t all reprieved,
Life goes ever on,
Howsoever we are aggrieved.

Music can find the immaterial,
Poems can manifest the ethereal,
Life’s symphony then finds the coda :||
And we all go on, whether true or venal.

Candle Light Blazes In Your Eyes

The stout little candle flickered its last
And scuttered out and left the oldster in the dark
He thought he’d attempt the 15th century
And imagine a time of dragons, for a lark

The safety matches safely lit a new wick
And the poet lifted his quill again
Skritter scratch and his lines pricked to life
Another damsel rejects a lonely swain

Refilling the merlot-stained glass
The oldess sat next to her oldster
The muse again amused, the poet grinned
Wishing he hadn’t sold that roadster

Gray hairs and faded eyes
But a mind keen as ever
Maybe he can’t drive
But his lines still tickle clever

Half-passed a candle later
The oldess kissed her oldster
The poet abandoned his quill
Surely, later those lines he’d bolster

Later, the stout little candle flickered its last….