Four Short Poems For The End of December

[Clearing the backlog of poems I wrote this month, effectively. Shall post one longer poem tomorrow and some small ones the next two days.]

We are dreamers
     In the shadows
Where we don’t
     Yet have names.
Wandering through streams
     That only go
Where we want
     When naught remains.
The oceans seems
     To always know
Why some won’t
     Play this game.

And wisdom is
     Watching the sea
Then knowing why
     Nothing real remains.
All of this
     Just cannot be
Why storm-clouds cry;
     Hence my refrain:
The first kiss
     Made all Be
Not to die
     Alone in pain.



be un ing

And is there no enlightenment within
The confines of birth and death?
Just solitudes of mystery and uncertainty:
Breath inside and outside - but beyond?
There is being, but from unbeing
We stay away, hoping life brings
Be-ing past life and into silence
Sings change and a new beginning.




And sometimes with longing I yearn
For the peace of dales and valleys,
Hills drenched in sunlight, soaking
In dew, and I forget I don’t remember
Bounding outside to cavort and to play
While longing for the noise of the TV.




Spent magics are gathered about me,
Dreams of a more exotic age.
Gloves flutter free in the wind;
Children point and gasp at how
I thrust my arms into sympathetic fires long ago.
For a single moment, haloed
In the light of a passing vehicle,
Someone wonders, “What if?”
And inside something stirs, briefly, embers from ashes.
I remember too much, but not
Enough to turn wondering to wonder.