Of sun-setting hues,
Those ephemeral provocateurs
Ever bidding adieu,
They call themselves clouds
While roaming the blue
Expanse of the skies
Seeking adventures anew.
I’ll call them none other
But the name that is truth,
For clouds they are not.
They’re the memories of youth.
Brave the heavens above, my son,
And let this world know your light.
Dare the stars for prominence
Among their ceaseless night.
Blaze a path for those who spurn
Your eminence and your might
Against the vastness of a frigid space,
And lead them from wrong to right.
Son, be as the Sun, and let your warmth reign.
This poem is in response to the photo poetry request by Zero Creativity Learnings accompanying sun photography.
Let me roam where no man shall go,
And I will deliver exotic cartography–
Rivers with flourish and fluid strokes,
Ravines with aquiline symmetries.
I’ll give names to each valley
Where only the wind was let roam,
Make known the vast seas
Where only the tide’s ever gone.
Whether surveyor measuring
Or tourist at ease,
Let me surely explore
All that’s been left uncharted and unseen.
It was the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.
Like an ember flaring amid August pine, the heat sealed her fate and opened her lips. Who knew a kiss could burn? Tequila and a wedge of lime followed by a shot of moonshine, quick and too smooth for her untried appetites, the world spun around her axis.
Then she asked, “When can we do that, again?”
He smiled–such a smile–with lips, teeth and the tip of his tongue… a warm-up of sorts, choral prelude to the best interludes she would ever know.
He called her his muse, and she named him her maestro.
*Flash fiction in response to this week’s Discover Challenge.*
Walk to the river’s edge, my son,
And read from the poet’s life…
Fortunes atop white-capped waves,
Trials across grey-worn skies.
Words flow like hallowed water,
Testaments to fire and years,
A snow-wept cross, his burden–
An apotheosis of tears.
*After strolling along the Eastern Promenade, I walked through Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s childhood home today…*
How goes the night, Northerly breeze?
Swaying the boughs, laying claim to their leaves?
Did you add to their fall? The needles say much.
Cones litter the ground at the barest of touch.
No? Then, perhaps, it’s merely the sea–
Those eternal waves, playing tricks upon me.
Though, I could swear yours was the voice
I heard upon tonight’s air.
There! I am right…
So true. It isn’t becoming–this jealousy–
But what else might I feel when you deprive me of sleep?
Tortured with tools
Obsolete in use,
Starved and on guard
While my time is abused,
Trained like a dog
On a short summer leash,
I must heel or they’ll steal
The hours promised me.
Deprive. Deprivation. Depressed.
Decried. Digression. Divest…
Me of my sins, whatever they be.
This life is too brief for inefficiency!
It’s tricky business,
Between stolen goods,
Between you and me.
Cash and kisses,
Chain linked witness
To neighbors being neighborly…
Or the thrust and parry
Between mortal enemies.
There’s much to be said about a fence.
I looked unto him,
And he glimpsed into me,
There as we gazed almost hesitantly.
Between us sat, rather innocuously,
A sweetly scented cup of black coffee.
“Cream?” He asked, innocently,
Nearly, because he’d ordered the one, you see.
“Might we share?” He asked, daringly.
Yes. A miser I would not be.
A drink with him, I’d share quite happily.
A drink, a dance, a love, a life…
Yes. I’d share quite happily.