THE INADEQUACY OF WORDS
Inert symbols laying on the page,
Vessels containing so little wealth,
A thousand for a single image;
Simulacrum of the thing itself.
“Bread” alone an empty stomach does not fill,
Neither can words make you smell the scent of rain,
Nor taste an apple or feel the winter chill;
An apt description is simply not the same.
To transform words into living flesh,
Bursting with life and not mere meaning,
Taste the sweet kiss, feel the soft caress;
The word itself has become the thing.
THE WINTER OF OUR DISCONTENT
Winter’s death has come, laid bare the trees,
Withered the grass, fallen all the leaves.
Gone the blazing days of summer’s glory,
Gone the fruitful days of autumn’s bounty.
Amidst great boasting, scorn and derision,
Failed this great land’s law – a tyrant has arisen.
Against our nation’s pillage and devastations
That have brought to ruin ancient nations,
The lies and tyranny have begun,
Across the land, unite our voices into one.
These are the days that will test our mettle,
Separate the dross within this seething kettle.
When the bitter cold night is at its darkest,
A candle’s tiny flame burns the brightest.
A billion stars blazing high above,
Ringed Saturn, Noble Mars, and Majestic Jove
Between vast distances of time and space;
An eternal sea engulfing the finite human race
That scurries about this Earth like ants
Bowing down to Mammon, his supplicants,
Mired in this world of death and destruction.
Hark! Look up to the heavens. Behold divine perfection.
Or possession by some demon,
In defense, might serve as a plea
For why you lost your reason.
Tumbling off a high precipice,
You may realize as you fall
That for each and every one of us
Love makes a fool of us all.
A little something for the winter blues:
Glories of the morn
heads uplifted towards the sky
trumpeting their praise
IT WAS NOT LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT
It was not love at first sight, I must confess,
But a gradual awakening like the coming dawn;
Its rosy light spreading slowly over the darkness,
Over the quiet slumbering hills and sleeping fawn.
No Cupid’s arrow let fly from his enchanted bow;
Speeds unerringly to strike the unsuspecting mark.
More like a gentle nudge rather than a sudden blow
That moves the heart to forget oneself – to disregard.
Until the realization like a seed begins to sprout,
Takes root before the tender stem from the ground breaks free
To spread its verdant leaves as the sun beams dance about
And through the years matures into a towering tree.
Come away, my lady, to a castle built out of love.
I will be your knight in shiny armor, you my fairest queen.
Together we will dwell on a mountain top high above
Amidst blues skies; white, fluffy clouds and the sun’s radiant beams.
Along with a lock of hair, brush of hands and a chaste kiss,
With lute, voice and poetry; will satisfy all our needs.
In contentment we will live – harmony and wedded bliss.
Our hearts, minds and souls as one in lofty thoughts and noble deeds.
Each passing hour of each passing day spent in a green bower.
There we will converse and read bathed in a golden light
To cultivate our minds and souls as well as tree and flower;
Build an earthly paradise; our own garden of delight.