Madison

Madison
Oil on Canvas 16" x 12"

Madison

Madison
Oil on Canvass 16" x 20"

I Was As Two Acquainted

I Was As Two Acquainted

I was as two acquainted in a dream

With memory and musical waters

I caressed the folds of an alizarin stream

With trembling hands that falter

And sought the seam and journeyed slow

That flows from black to shadows

The poetic hand did rhyme below

And sang amidst the meadows

I whispered soft on golden braids

But not in words but prayers

And sought the parting of the shades

Beneath the edge of crimson layers

And then as one acquainted in a dream

In depths of rhythmic flow

The beating of the hearts supreme

Between the hues that cry and glow

Then sunrise came and time returned

No wine to cheer or feign

Save one hope, all others spurned

That I could sleep and dream again

Of Night and Times

Of Night and Times

And Orion watched in wonder

As Shelley kissed the breast.

Of city lights and moonbeams,

The crescent, furtive quest.

An Bláth Beag

An Bláth Beag

There is a warmth

In the wind swept west.

 A candled corner,

Couched in the light

Of reflected braids,

Flaxen and youthful.

And joy at the solitude

Amidst the throng.

Of memories and not,

Noise and music.

The dancing brews

And waltzing meads.

And dreams.

Those daring hemlines

Of imagination.

Lifting and satin.

Life’s metaphors

Caressed in the self.

Sabrina

Sabrina

 

Light, solstice.

The poems of windmills turning.

Sedated sails,

Whispering through a frosted sun.

Or sunrise,

On midnight braids. Exalting,

Yawning wings.

Dancing in a dew drenched dawn.

Or music. Or rivers.

Or fields of sunflowers chorus.

Forests deep,

With pine and scented paths.

All in vain.

The hopeless yearn of parity.

Of all the stellar

There is no reflection of you.

Melancholy

 

Melancholy

A kiss, from a lingering ember.

Too feint to warm,

Too stubborn to fade.

A remnant echo of despair.

I Sought The Woods

I Sought The Woods

Through the mist, within the woods,

A calmly breathing light,

Gently slants amongst the rows

Of trees of wisdom height.

And as I walked the vestal way

The forest’s floor evokes.

The sounds of autumns long ago,

 The ghosts of ancient oaks.

 Stirring in the spectral brume

 A pulse of temporal tones.

As furtive waters from the hills

Lap beneath the lichen stones.

From soil to leaf with earthy hues,

The eye beguiles the heart.

As fleeting forms dance between

The elms, flanked apart.

I sought the woods, sense to make.

The treaties in my mind.

But strange the woods echoed me

A sense of simpler kind.