Ache in my heart, fog in my soul, whirlwind in my mind
To bind my heart in like kind with your precious heart,
And it tears me apart . . .
But we will finish from the start in harmonious concert
Though it may hurt not to avert this pain-riddled love
Do I hear your sweet nightly songs?
Am I wrapped tightly in your arms?
Did you take me mightily by force of passion?
Did you press me excitedly against your love?
Am I rightly breathing poetry for you?
Am I more than slightly pleasing to you?
Could I be more tightly bound to you than I am now?
So far away, Elysium, where day never ends and the cabernet freely flows,
Receive me in your blessed abode, leave me not alone, deceive me no more,
For I was born for your shores, sworn for your stores of golden grain evermore,
Will you take me in to begin again, new life in perfection without soul defection,
Hope everlasting, never asking for peace, for war to cease, nothing to increase,
Never alone, always shone great wonders untold, spirit so bold, lover to hold,
Now so close, Elysium, in never-ending beginning, singing with angels winging
Troubled together like waves of the sea
Churning and roiling and fighting to be
One soul with me in you and you in me
To calm the storms in life to live carefree
And to swim the skies in highest degree
With no more terror and nothing to flee
As heaven becomes our reality
While looking back on previously published poetry for inclusion in (possibly) another printed collection, I ran across this one that seems appropriate, not only at the beginning of this New Year, but also for the current political climate here in the U. S.! (Who knows? Perhaps POTUS will read it and be transformed into something of a real human being! LOL) Ah, but here it is, from back in August of 2015:
So often it’s so easy to misunderstand and reprimand
When there’s really no reason for words out of season;
We assume and fume and leave no room for the benefit
Of doubt; never consider we may be wrong, agony prolong
So unnecessarily because we’ve failed to give charity
And beckon clarity for sake of peace instead of caprice
In broken harmony as we release anger and animosity
From paucity of heart; we can be so small when we should
Stand tall in character and integrity with better dignity;
And so much strife would fade in play of fife and flute
Of happier days and higher ways, in serenity and amenity;
Would not this be better than bitter rancor and soul canker?
Perhaps we begin with open ears to hear and eyes to see
In the other our true sister, brother, father, and mother
Rather than unsuspecting foe ready to deal death blow…
Oh, how suspicious we can be when we’re not free
To live and love without attrition of suspicion of ill-will!
There is a storm rising in the deep cauldron of the sea of humanity,
An untamed insanity, wailing louder and louder, like the wild child
Emerging from the jungle of irrationality to destroy all of banality,
To cannibalize civilization in the realization that it is but a carcass
Only to be eaten now in a free frenzied feast of half-starved beasts;
Woe be to the man of upper-clan, who but fans the flames of blame!
The storm rise is upon us, the size of which we cannot measure . . .
But there will be no pleasure, only pieces of what we now treasure
There is only emptiness, the great void as if all had been destroyed,
Nothing employed throughout time and space in pace with nothing;
And all is hollow, surrounded by some numinous shell that is hell…
But then you speak and the sharp peak of light appears here
To sear the darkness, and something begins to take shape
That the nothing can escape, and there is suddenly living life
Filling time and space with the chime of the divine sounding
And pounding, pulsating throughout the fresh air so free and fair;
So, too, you speak into those poor souls caught in mere existence
In persistence of lifeless churning in the void of empty moments,
Breathing the power of life where there was only death by the hour,
And then it is the flower of spirit rises from the ashes and blooms;
You create what is great as your own self-given mandate of love
From above that shoves aside the emptiness with its high pride…
You create and satiate the gnawing appetite for truly alive life…
Yes, you create … You create
O shelter from the stormy blast, hold me fast;
Quick! Speedily take me neath your covering,
Hovering over me against the tempest raging
And engaging all humanity in utter calamity
With no break for mercy’s sake – we quake –
O hide me and abide with me, (do not chide)
And save me from the rage all around about
That writes itself on each page of our history;
O shelter from the stormy blast, hold me fast!
This bard tries to write but the words no longer come,
Like some long-lost friend always round the next bend,
And he sends urgent messages beckoning them home
So he can pen his tome, but the fickle words elude him
To the pain of his heart since he cannot gain their love,
Though again n’ again the woeful bard cries and tries;
But there’s some poetry even in this most sad situation
Of ill-sought satisfaction: at least this bard can write
About the aesthetic evacuation of his very own soul . . .
One tree on the hill standing strong, standing tall
Through summer and winter, spring and fall —
This aged tree has stood the test for the best —
And what has she seen through fat years and lean?
So many foibles of humanity born of pure insanity,
But also beauty, bravery and much love from above,
For battles have been fought, victories blood bought,
And in peace lovers have promised passion, as well,
Neath her mighty branches, sounding wedding bells,
And so this majestic tree has seen heaven and hell;
Now what would she tell us if she could but speak?
This tree on the hill standing strong, standing tall?