Posts Tagged ‘Morning’

If a minute were longer then so,

long enough to wonder

if my decisions will be transparent

or if they will last and people will know.

And long enough to wander

through the dark streets at dawn,

through the narrow streets accompanied

by a body of yellow fog,

and walk until the morning yawns into existence,

and then proceed through the halls I have come to know,

but with each step

I continue to grow, as all people do,

in that unseen way.

 

And who am I to leave something

more than ephemeral

on an otherwise simple scene, on an otherwise

simple day? Is it right

for me to ask for a bit of permanence,

to ask for more than a footprint

in the snow or in the sand?

Is it right for me to deny something grand?

Is it right for me to ask

for nothing more than the seemingly infinite warmth

in the clasp of a hand?

For, in a minute, what I announce

will be read, forgotten,

or- perhaps- renounced.

 

when sun beams

brown to bronze

bronze and yellow

clock yawns ticking tears stick

sleep and grog wake with steam

wreath wake with sniff

eggs out basket yolk to china

table light bronze yellow

shimmer shimmer eyes

perk up perk up mug

drip sip dribble spoon

knuckles chime hold place

lean so stiff

slurp and blink

hand down on table yellow

bronze and yellow

because sun is greeting

The birds rise first- Robin,

Dove- wake me each Morn.

They whistle- I find,

I am not forlorn.

Rise

out of a blue sea

into scarlet light,

descend the marble steps

to a pool as clear as glass.

Sweep away remaining sleep,

find the jungle of fruits-

a bright feast.

Open mouth in a wide “O”,

loose a gust,

focus on the wash of yellow

shining through.

Flutters and twips float

in- vague- into the

temporary cage.

Ah,

so you’ve entered my dreams again,

not quite uninvited,

but you are not still-

yet- you are not vibrant.

You nod twinkling blue eyes toward me

and I feel my stomach squirm,

and am reduced to a pale worm

under those bright cauldrons.

You are a ghost

of the most high caliber

to invade such a space

where I would normally be well rested.

But when I wake, you’ll be gone,

light that filters red through my curtains

will reveal that. But of course

I’ll revel in you, because

that’s what you’d like me to do,

isn’t it?

You devil.

Something of majesty,

the forest encapsulated

in this tiger’s eye.

 

Lithing its snow-white feet

in my dreams, against murk

of jungle. Flames of pelt fly,

 

cinders soaring

to ignite this shadowland.

Morning is not nigh,

 

but fear before this

blazing beast

would be wise to flee.