Autumn Festival of Dawns

I have kissed the Autumn dawn
laughed at the blond of her lips
running beneath the orange finger-tipped red
half-moon, the vital breath

of silver summited dew glistening
on the stones of marble
the damp violets enslaving conclusions
of winter’s breath over the last butterflies

I have kissed the meadows of october
laughed at the clouds dissolving
through a pillar of the treasured-sun
running through the breeze against

the memories of a few dozen autumns
it all comes first circle as life dissolves
but beauty remains a poor man’s dream
it comes every Autumn like an old traveler
ready to submit to red and gold.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Home-is-where-the-love-is-403015730

Winter

Winter
How long have we known each other?
On the ground
Bare and with throaty snow
Flakes to fall on my stubble

Of all the aches I held dear –
Dragging your silver-shine
Through long hard months
Of the northern-land
Into apparent hibernation

Winter
You know my white shield
Of my held heart
Like a held-hand
Of another’s inner-spring
I sell my cattle
To eat my plants for another day
Teas that light me up from the inside

Winter
Breaking thin branches
I know your cloudy days
Won’t last forever, just an empty space
In my memory
As if I were snapped from my roots with ice
My foundations of rock
Glowing thick with harvests of water
That will trickle down
Into a luscious spring-bed.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Winter-139159678

Prayer Untitled

Prayer is the last response
Of presence when life is denied
So to remain quiet

Is sometimes next to God’s ear
Watching and listening
The last apparatus

Of apparent prosperity
For to own is not permanent
Anything can be taken away

A spirit-diamond trance
Can problem solve
The symmetry of misfortune

Prayer is the last response
Of an unconditional force of happiness
Too infinite is consequence

For us to seize destiny by the throat
Prayer is the easiest sport
When our slow capacities deploy

A crude response to vivid nature
So to act is not always wise
Then do we notice things overlooked

Our mind italicized by light
That darkness be prerequisite
To spirit’s final room

As narrow time’s jostle between
What we once called life & death
Bent to water, till we died

Prayer is the last response
When belief no longer regulates
The perception of our undue significance.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Skyfall-403075862

Ode to Virgins

A girl to a man is an ascended tree
Who bears the most magnificent fruit
The tree has grow in my breast
Downward like arms of moss

Trees you are, nourished glee
Moss you are, ravished romance
A chill of violets in the wind
A girl to a man is the folly of the world

The gift, the goal, the great deception
A virginal biological imperative
Like heroin, a dopamine-testosterone high
For the spoils of estrogen and smiles

Slight her arms that stealthy subtle clearness
Her vague ethereal beauty, so remarkable
A girl to a man is the twin peaks of the world
The reminder of April’s shooting branches
The white bark of skin, the young lady’s hours.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Kika-403043718