Saturday, January 7, 2017

Till Earth Is Born Again

Charge lightly into winter’s night
drawing softly to the refuge of fire.
The flaming sword resting in scorching embers
pointing the red razor’s edge toward thy own soul
as fleeting earth remains still.
Let the vandal, Celt, Goth, and Mohammedan peacefully rest
sympathetically as into the other world’s they ascend
where the final judgment of furious enemies is compelled

In winter, Rhine maidens lay pedals in the paths of warriors
and Teutonic Queens lay sword to Knightly shoulders.
But let Jerusalem lie temporally still
as she is sick from the blood of brothers.
In the dreadful orgy of deep cold
death hath come and knowledge is cast with Hades.
Winter nights loom large now and Nobles must be Lions
if hope would survive till earth is born again.

An Angel of Winter

An angel of winter
melodiously hovers
over desolate northern woods
performing a heavenly sonata
no one will hear

the snowy torrents
whimper gently
and howl furiously
as they fly,

filling the white-jeweled forest
with mysterious, unearthly airs
composed in heaven
and awakened while dreaming.

After Midnight Series (Winter)

I only miss her after midnight,

within winter’s solitary midst

when Chopin's nocturnes play

softly in quiet light,

a nearly extinguished fire’s glow

reflecting off a shadeless picture window

where the beveled window corners

 have jewel themselves

in perfect ice crystals

and gazes out a warm den

to a suburban backyard acre

where cold wind blowing

bends leafless trees

enrapt in winter darkness

and drifting snow buries the grill

in a feathered layer of frozen white. 

Friday, January 6, 2017

Mid Winter




On a cold, late winter afternoon
a gleaming sun casts shadows
 of barren trees,
eerily creeping across the frozen lake,
winter light’s
ghostly splendor slowly consuming,
the remains of day,
provoking a solitary black bird
perched high on a wire
anxiously calling-out,
hoping someone will hear.