Best In Morning


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I love you best in morning…
In that quiet hour
before the sun fully rises
and the shadows of the night
linger possessively;
as I lie motionless
beside you
watching
the seductive blush
of a new dawn
filtering slowly through
the frosted windowpane,
caressing you in those last
moments of sleep
with warm fingers of light.
It is in that
special time,
that magic time of morning
as I, too, caress you
with my eyes
and with my thoughts
that I love you
best

 

The Lantern


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Do you see that lantern on the mantle?
Its light has shined on three generations of this family.

My grandfather learned to read under the tutelage of its glow.
He wrote love letters to my grandmother in verse reflecting
The warmth gathered from its flickering beam.

My mother found her way home through lost woods
To the waiting arms of my Dad,
And on the night I was conceived, it lent its sexuality.

Bright and slightly hesitant, still burn brightly
The night I was born, weaving moonbeams
Linking silver threads through the tapestry of our lives;
Illuminating my path through the years,

It has lit my tears and calmed my fears;
Beneath its flame we all found ways to heal
To bind up old wounds; to celebrate new beginnings,
While keeping vigil as loved ones passed away

One day I’ll pass it down to my children
Now crawling on the ground
And in its light they’ll learn to see within themselves,
Beyond themselves

I take it down and light it it’s blackened wick
Whenever I am consumed by darkness;
It watches over me and comforts me;

It reminds me that there are so many ways
To become illuminated

 

Lights


alone_in_the_dark
You have always stood
beneath a dazzling array of bright colors
Brilliant, and brave, and blinding
Your light provided bright reflections
and lit the stage upon which you danced
careless, joyful, and exuberant

It was a separate light that bathed me
not quite so radiant
and full of shadows
It has never illuminated my way
nor has it warmed me in its beam
It was what it seemed
an insignificant blue glow, dim and misleading

In your light, you were found
In mine, everything was lost

 

The Lantern


Image

Do you see that lantern on the mantle?
Its light has shined on three generations of this family.

My grandfather learned to read under the tutelage of its glow.
He wrote love letters to my grandmother in verse reflecting
The warmth gathered from its flickering beam.

My mother found her way home through lost woods
To the waiting arms of my Dad,
And on the night I was conceived, it lent its sexuality.

Bright and slightly hesitant, still burn brightly
The night I was born, weaving moonbeams
Linking silver threads through the tapestry of our lives;
Illuminating my path through the years,

It has lit my tears and calmed my fears;
Beneath its flame we all found ways to heal
To bind up old wounds; to celebrate new beginnings,
While keeping vigil as loved ones passed away

One day I’ll pass it down to my children
Now crawling on the ground
And in its light they’ll learn to see within themselves,
Beyond themselves

I take it down and light it it’s blackened wick
Whenever I am consumed by darkness;
It watches over me and comforts me;

It reminds me that there are so many ways
To become illuminated

 

In Memory of Vicky


Vicky

 

This poem is dedicated to my dear friend “tersiaburger”
In memory of her beloved daughter, Vicky.

——————————————————————-

You and I
are touched by one star.

Wherever you are
we stand together in one light
which no depth or height or distance
can ever dim.

Wherever you are
your light shines;
past time and space
past flesh to thought,
I feel your power.

Wherever you go
the day will dawn
and the star will appear;
for you are a child of this light
and it fosters your heavenly dreams.

In this light, I have found ways
to heal, to bind up,
to tear down the feeble structures
of fear of your absence has
carelessly constructed within me.

You and I
are touched by one star.

In its glowing embrace
we find our true selves;
we find our peace.

Today I may stand alone,

missing you with all my heart
be I stand strong.
Through the corridors of our courage
you have helped me to
discover those eternal lines
of love within myself;
my birthright discovered because

Vicky and I are
touched by one star.

 

Lady of the Night


moon-like-face

Her face is frost etched glass
floating in the blue-black winds of the night;
She illuminates footsteps hushed
on decayed and dampened leaves,
and grieves for freshly planted souls
who have turned from the light of day.

Her midnight corset is tightly laced
by the dazzling tails of falling stars,
and she moves in phases
with the hushed and tempered grace of a
childless empress wandering forlornly
through the cold shadows of winter’s garden.

She seduces the wolf and the poet with
equal ambivalence, each of whom
compose for her dream-soaked arias
and haunting sonnets that speak of
promises which will not be kept.

She mourns her powdered reflection
as it ripples across frozen lakes, and
hides behind silver-lined clouds when
she can no longer bear the loneliness
of her shadowy journey across granite
mountaintops and sleeping meadows.

At last, in the cool, grey light of morning,
as the sun softly caresses her porcelain
cheek with warm fingers of breaking light,
she sighs but once, then slowly fades into
the rose colored blush of a new day.

Rapture


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In this, my final mortal moment
As the layered veil of secrets
Like my breath, sure and softly drawn
Beneath my pale and frightened gaze
As my clay-sculpt feet are slowly
and with love gently lowered
Into the deep dissolving
Waters of eternal bliss
Even now do angels joyful weep
For my journey home is now complete

All my terrors and vain doubts
Are here now ghostly gathered
Beneath this black descending night
Each anguished terror vanquished
Before my dark and dimming eyes
The quaking and the making
Of all my Earthly fears gently recede
Fading as I am at last lifted up
Rejoice! My soul is holy Heaven bound

Do not grieve my passing, nor carve
The memory of me on granite stone
But rather, plant my bones one measure
Beneath the eternal Tree of Knowledge
For they no longer serve their upright purpose
And return the bitten fruit upon its branch
I no longer hunger for its bitter bite
Let the serpent coil beneath this truth
No longer shall I hide my nakedness
Beneath this slowly setting sun

One final time this weary heart beats
And I am free, unshackled and forgiven
My dust upon the swirling winds scatter
I do not fear the darkness of the hour
As I gather the warm encroaching light
In warm embrace, one last and longing look
Gathering my Final earthly breath
I shall, with open palms let go
My desperate and anguished grip
Upon this wondrous fleeting dream.
Then shall I, in certain knowledge, let go
For my journey here is full complete.

Crucified Beneath Her Touch


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In my darkest hour,
rolled up into a ball upon the divan
reading Plath and Poe,
fantasizing about the silent sweetness of death;
writing angry, diminished verse raging against
all things holy and full of light…
then, only then was I full of purpose and certainty.

From the falling of the sun until the break of dawn,
pouring ice-less cups of bourbon to free my tongue,
burning with each gulp as I exorcised my demons
on the back of half-torn slips of
empty bank statements and creditor threat letters.

My loving Kate stood sentinel outside the door,
occasionally sneaking in a tepid bowl of broth
or a grilled cheese sandwich;
she both hated me beyond all measure
and attended to my waking needs with a love that
stung me to my bitter core.
She stayed because she could see in me
what I could not, as I lay crucified beneath
her touch. I stayed with her so that someone
would be around to answer the angry phone.

In the daylight, awash in the cool grey light of morning,
I tucked away in the roll-topped desk
all evidence of my madness.
Beneath a shower of scalding water,
I made vain attempts to wash away my sins
of the previous night.
I stuffed my walking corpse into
a starched white linen shirt,
draped with a burgundy tie,
and stepped into my fresh-pressed suit
(dear, Kate!) I kissed her dry lips goodbye.

Each day, I drive into the city,
interviewing for jobs I would never accept,
stopping by Tommy’s Irish Pub for a shot of Johnny,
and napping the afternoon away on a
faded green park bench outside the county courthouse.
At 5pm I headed home to flee the light once more.

Dinner would rest un-touched
as I passed straight through toward oblivion.
Kate would be at her spinning class
as I dropped the suit and all pretense,
pulled on a pair of faded jeans,
and slowly drifted into my melancholy.
Each day, I would rummage through her dresser,
lightly tracing my fingers over her satin underthings,
remembering when.

I’d pull another freshly  bought bottle
of amber courage from the kitchen pantry
(dear, sweet Kate) and poured
myself another night.

 

A Dark and Distant Star


” Every poem has a soul, the soul of the person who wrote it and the soul of those who read it and dream about it.” – dlmchale

My sleep is bathed in fearful sweat; each night a
pitched battle between all that I’ve loved and all
that I’ve lost.

My dreams betray me. Treasonous vignettes spinning
through the night like mismatched pieces of a puzzle:
no matter how desperately I press one vision into another,
it will not lock and the picture remains incoherent.

When morning breaks, I arise once more into the cool,
grey fog of isolation. Cold and shivering, aching and
empty. Unfocused and confused, eyes pasted shut with
broken sleep and a mouth of stale cotton.
.
Each day is spent in a stumbling stupor of regret and
indecision. Like a bird on broken wings, my thoughts fall
dangerously about me. I am tired and disillusioned. I am
conscious but cannot see. I exist in a pale light descending
and tomorrow’s hope is a dark and distant star.

Contrasting Lights


You have always stood beneath a dazzling
array of bright colors.
Brilliant, and brave, and blinding.
Your light provided bright reflections
and lit the stage upon which you danced;
careless, joyful, and exuberant.

It was a separate light that bathed me,
not quite so radiant and full of shadows.
It has never illuminated my way
nor has it warmed me in its beam.
It was what it seemed: an insignificant
blue glow, dim and misleading.

In your light, you were found. In mine,
everything was lost.

Descent into Light


 

 

 

 

 

 

The windows of my existence
slam shut with profound resistance;
no light reflects my life’s regrets
dark thoughts are my subsistence.

I’ve lived a life most shattered,
redemption lay in tatters –
I close my eyes and realize
nothing really mattered.

My path was paved with sharp-edged stones;
each step cut deeply to the bone -
My blood revealed a fate long sealed,
No pleas were heard or crimes atoned.

Acceptance as the midnight falls,
my time has come, the hour calls-
Into the haze, beat down and dazed,
in darkness beats a heart, then stalls.

The final beat, a deeper cut,
the vein of life has no rebut;
spilling forth with little worth
the contents of my tortured gut

Beneath the lily and graven stone
The soul has fled, I’m all alone.
Now in the tomb I find some room;
My darkest fears are overthrown

The window opens, new hope descends
Now lifted up, my doubts rescind;
escape the grave, all pain is bathed
Into perfect light I walk again.


Do you see that lantern on the mantle?

Its light has shined on three generations of this family.

My grandfather learned to read under the tutelage of its glow;

Wrote love letters to my grandmother in verse reflecting

The warmth gathered from its flickering beam.

My mother found her way home through lost woods

To the arms of my Da, and on the night I was conceived

It lent its sexuality.

Bright and slightly hesitant, still it burns, weaving moonbeams

Like silver threads through the tapestry of our lives.

Illuminating through the years, it has lit my tears and

Calmed my fears; beneath its flame we all found ways to heal,

To bind up old wounds; to celebrate new beginnings, while keeping

Vigil as loved ones passed away.

One day I’ll pass it down to my children now crawling on the ground

And in its light they’ll learn to see within themselves, beyond themselves.

I take it down and light it whenever I am consumed by darkness; it watches

Over me and comforts me; reminds me that there are so many ways

To become illuminated.

The Lantern