Dance
unyielding, i stir
unwilling to awaken
incessantly seeking
You
like virgin wings of the monarch
your shape gently unfolds
i clutch the edges of slumber
aware in my wakening
you will be gone
Again
you have come before
tauntingly, teasingly tendering talents
only to vanish with the coming dawn
stranding in your wake, blurred
Images
i pray
one more heartbeat
one more tick
one more tock
one more time with
You
only with eyes closed
my head pillowed
can I see you
Clearly
i hold my breath
sinews stilled by anticipation
Waiting
at last!
lyrical expressions
birthed in the mist of dreams
dangling before my outstretched
Hands…
Eyes
one Word
an impeccable, exquisite, splendid
Word
a preeminent, boundless
fortuitous
Word
ten thousand dreams
have flowed like sunless waters
harboring words in the darkness
musing and scoffing at the ancient
Bard
a creak and a groan
hail the pre-dawn day
as the merry minstrel swings
his stocking clad feet
upon the hard, cold
Floor
crooked and leathery fingers
sweep sleep from weary eyes
ere lifting his trusty quill
and jaundiced parchment
from the hollows of
the black cherry
Ark
carefully
painstakingly
the pinkish tip of his tongue
pecks the dry tip of his quill
(a habit of uncountable decades)
eyes straining to capture
Focus
before,
like a magician’s golden coin,
the oneiric one
Disappears
he scribbles one Word
across the
Paper
the aging poet sits in silence
revering one Word
weeping like raindrops
on a willow tree
a lonesome tear
Falls
Falling
Fell
the liquid glass plunges
a final resting place
upon the yellowed
parchment
“what will you be?”
he whispers to the moist word
“what words will follow?”
a sonnet
singing Shakespeare’s
Ictus?
“how will I see you?”
a haiku?
childish thoughts!
wasted on the one
i have so
Longed
“perhaps…”
an epic adventure
before this wisp of life
is swept
Away
we will journey to
faraway lands
with endless horizons
and bountiful botany
donning fantastical
Flora
a kingdom of pixies and pansies
hobgoblins and sprites
enchantresses
and evil
Queens
a land of watermelon wines
and licorice vines
throw in
a baritone bullfrog or
Two
a place with
a beginning
“once upon a time”
a middle
not too wearisome i
Beg
a grand finale
scholars will anticipate
and,
hoping my story
never ends,
Dread
one Word
kindles the imagination
of poets and
Lyricists
one Word
borne in the night
an invitation to
begin
writing
again
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