at the windowsill
a veiny leaf
dried in late autumn
crows feet count her age
on black tar streets
staring at grandchildren
Spring air filling
a young girl's nostrils, lungs
holding his hand,
her handsome boy
a smile betrays
a glimmer of youth
and for a moment she glows
a car horn
startles her giggle
to a sour lemon scowl
(C)2013, Christos Rigakos
Her bright beautiful blue eyes have finally lost there glimmer.
Her cheeky smile has finally broke under the pressure.
Her exotic attitude has washed away like seashells rippling into the soft sand.
Her heart has been splintered and lurched like a childs rag toy.
Her who has lost everything but the will to survive.
We feel it.
The low tenor and shimmering soprano
it fills us with a teasing rhythm...
Amidst the warmth of a shallow breeze
Kindled by a roseate glimmer of fading fire
Impassioned with intent we make our way
from our warm bed in the grass
to climb together to alpine heights
nestled where we can best reach
The edge, the rim through which gods create
that dark abyss which sustains us
With an abrupt rush, we are lifted and consumed
There, the briefest glimmer of sparkling white
and we fall,
pushed by muscular cadence
And finally pulled
Here we move,
Rostellum pierce the pitch
We rook our God
Copyright ©2010-2013 Sean Winslow All Rights Reserved
He stands alone
Waiting since eternity
To catch a glimmer
Of the one he waits for
Since the beginning of time
He meets many thinking
She is the one
Only to find
It's not to be
He sighs with each heart break
Shakes his raven head
In sorrow thinking
Will they ever meet?
She has searched
Looking since eternity
For the one soul mate
That seams to be
Just out of reach
She gives herself to the ones
She thinks is indeed
Are her soul mates
Only to learn
It's not to be
She crumbles and cries
Thinking to herself
Will they ever meet?
Like ships in the night
They pass each other by
Not knowing who they are
They keep searching in vain
Each cycle that passes
They are just out of reach
He longs to see
Her face and feel her soul
That only she can
Stir the love that flows
Deep in his heart
Deep in his soul
She longs to touch
His face with a kiss
With the love
That flows in the ebb of time
Deep in her heart
Deep in her soul
Then just by chance
They meet briefly in time
He knows her voice
He knows her smile
She intern knows his heart
She knows his song
They flow with love
That's been denied so long
They feel each other presences
As they each enter a room
Blinded by what they feel
They know not what to do
They are with in reach
But the reality of the world
Has made it impossible
For them to express
How they feel
They both reach out to touch
Finger tip to finger tip
The time of destiny
Ebbs and flows
They have found their souls
Complete and whole
He ask her one simple question
HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN SEARCHING
Her reply is simple
Since the beginning of time
She asks him one simple question
HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN WAITING
His reply is simple
Since the beginning of time
Finally they embrace
They are one
They are whole
Just when I was starting to think I'd be okay
that I would be able to move on one day
and find someone else who I could love the way I loved you
what do you go and do?
You call me when you're drunk
who would've thunk
that I'd be the one that you call
as you stumble and fall
up the stairs on the way to your room
the man you used to want as your groom.
Who almost though his heart was healing
until you told him you were dizzy looking at the ceiling.
He realized he missed your voice on the phone
remembered the secrets you'd shown
and thousands of other memories over time
how you'd been partners in crime
for 8 long wonderful years
and that brought back more tears,
because that's when he remembered that you were no longer his
that you wouldn't be having his kids
or buying a house where you'd live together,
and spend your lives in each others arms forever.
All those dreams are long and gone
but he still waits, played like a pawn
as the queen protects her new king
and leads the pain into pain and suffering.
But the pawn keeps moving for her because that's all he knows
she was the future that he chose
but his future no longer wanted to choose him.
He had gone out on a limb
and given away his heart.
But when they grew apart
she kept a broken piece with her everywhere she went.
He thought he was slowly able to mend
but just realized that it was just pretend.
He was putting on a mask to make life easier
but the more he thinks the more he is queasier
because she's the one she called when she got wasted
which means in her mind he's still pasted.
He thinks about how she could've called her new thing
but she called me and I answered on the first ring,
because I still love her and a part of her loves me
and I know it's foolish but that's all I can see.
The slight glimmer of hope that I have when I shouldn't
because I want to think she would when I know that she wouldn't
ever get back with me for various reasons
although we've loved each other through so many seasons.
She called me, but why
why would she call the heartbroken guy
that still loves her when she won't return his feeling
yet at the same time is this call revealing.
I'll sit here and wonder but I'll never know
why she drunk called me and why I responded with hello.
Best friends forever
Forever is a very long time.
I can already see the cracks
In our friendships
So many people
So many sacrifices
To mend the cracks that
Time has so cruelly forced
Time has worn and torn us
It has made some of us closer
And some just drifting
How I wish
I could just go back
When we all were
In a closely knitted family
Everyone all innocent
And not vying
You may disagree
You may deny
But my eyes
Can see the cracks
That would soon become
A black hole
Which time has created
To suck us all
And this beautiful
Friendship of 8
Into it's deepest darkest corner
Like all past friendships are
But I'm still clinging
To the small glimmer of hope
That all is not lost
That all can be recovered
That all is well
We are safe
From the traitor called
Molted off my skin
Like your touch melted off my chin
Dripped down from the face to footprints imprinted in dirt
They were bare, but somehow you carried a 50 pound pack with you
Can't explain the love you must have felt
So you settled to show me instead of giving away the ending
All these lighthouses
All leading back to the past
But only influenced by the future
A grin as ruthless as a hungry stoner
A leg touch that felt as if the warmth was from the sun
Instead of a god
I see myself, walking out on the dock
Out on the water, but not like Jesus
As they were and as you came
Pumping thoughts, blood, and music through my brain
I didn't need any of that good stuff
Just enough of the ok stuff to sweat out the bad
The trail got closer and closer until brushing up against each others hands became as common as the dark encircling us
That glimmer of light became a blessing
I woke up comatose
Being the sand, feeling the genuity of your toes
The glow that arose, a faint candle that bobbed its head to the bass
As breaths of air shamed it like a tsunami, the hot air ruining the flame
But building a fire
Because waking up from a coma feels like a really bad hangover
But waking up from a coma didn't feel so bad this time
This time was an opened tear in the world I see
Two eyes, the origin of symmetry, a single blink that births a symphony, squinting just to see me in the glare
Honestly, I felt rude just to be caught In stare
So I nodded off in pretending to be something I lack
But I wasn't showing the right flaw
Not a moment too soon, I drift back
Swelling signs of closure coming through the door
I woke very near, to a hand grasping the air around mine
A hand saying I've been home, but have just been sleeping
While I dreamt, I was kneeing her in my sleep.
A laugh, for now that we were all together in the same world
Because you loose so much when your being distorted
So We played over to the next song, honestly,
The reepings of narrow left, and the mouth of the river opened wide enough for us to cross into
I'm scared of you, but it's not like I'm running away
"Are you afraid of God, Booker?
No, but I'm afraid of you"
There once was a girl
Who hid herself from the world
She put on mask after mask
And faked every smile
But at sunset
She would unwrap the layers of her chrysalis
And sprint to the window
Looking frantically for that first glimmer of light
Wishing, hoping, praying on its dim sparkle
And she’d spend the rest of the night
Gazing into the evening sky
Drowning in the expanse of galaxies
Tracing imaginary constellations with her fingers
Searching desperately for a little star of her own
She lost herself many times
Pursuing the twinkling specks in the distance
Until she finally met the sun
A boy who reminded her that one star burns brighter than all the rest
He overpowered the twilight of her heart
And ignited fire from the ashes in her veins
Now she spends her nights
Eagerly awaiting the dawn instead
And when the hands on the clock move too slow
The minutes stretching into weeks
His reflection in the imperfect moon is her comfort
Like the brush of his hand gently kissing her cheek
(no, not really...no-one believes this Stygian opacity)
look how Time doth ravage thee
look what it did to thy visage
in smithereens, lies youth
it so artfully takes away
what is held so dear
rivers and streams
valleys and hills
arching to ecstatic heights
plunging to abysmal lows
into the ravine of chance
stirred by the spoon of Time
slowly around the cauldron
brews the self-same mixture
then poured into chasms of forgetfulness
using the eternal sledgehammer
smashes the foundation of thought
grinds the nutmeg of speed
pulps the fruit of mentality
slows the pulse of sensation
and pardons none.
what was once sensuous and voluptuous lips
now are merely two dry slits on your face
once stared-into eyeballs, now glass over
vitreous cataracts steadily grow, weed-like
toned into lithe elastic bands now stretch
away into forever, a pale platform to walk on
life's morn is encompassed by years' slanting
clouded and bedimmed by mists of age
butterfly's existence outweighs a man's
by mere night-veiled windowpane of true sight
draw the curtains; close the shutters; screen the eyes
the time has come to shed all blinkers and face the sun.
mud cracks down a dipping dale
scalding pain sears sore half-foot
yes, time is but a disease
without fear or favour
the glimmer of ....
a time of ...
cathedral invites the walker in
cool and calm recesses
then they walk in
this one had but a lucky half-score lot
clear soprano note becomes a rudderless bleat
announcing the folly of stifling ego
now shorn of burning frost of circuitous fervour
beams of mercy cast a final look-see
jump the barriers of
carry thee off.
pipe organ-stops are pulled out
(art thee ready? platform number 5)
S T, 9 May 2013
Looking at pictures of and being inspired by the writing of esteemed Anglo-American writer W. H. Auden (born in 1907, York, UK - died in 1973, Vienna).
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
We’re glad you could join us
It’s been a while
We have much to discuss
Close your eyes
What do you see?
Do you see the stars?
Or the lights?
Do you see the imprinted shapes from the world on the other side of your eyelid?
Or is it all just darkness?
I ask for I don’t know
Not unless you tell me.
The things I ask are the things I’ve seen.
But what have you seen in the void of your own darkness?
What would you ask me?
What would you want me to see?
_I know these are a lot of questions and maybe we should come back to it.
But sometimes we can’t go back
Not from this.
Do you see now?
Do you see what this means?
It means that there will not be a life were you correct the past
Nor a life where you mend the emotional wounds with your own hands
The wounds that you dealt, but someone else was there to heal
Where were you?
Why didn’t you help?
Make excuses as much as you want.
They will wait for you to explain
We’ll all sit here patiently while you tell us.
But I cannot guarantee that all of us will stay
Some will leave
They will leave forever
Some might come back
But I don’t know who
Maybe you already know
Some may even surprise you.
Through the crisp hills of the all-knowing valley shall they rise from the flowers; the meadow once layered with corpses and illusions.
The valley will beacon your presence with empathetic swirls of breezy mountain air.
The lone voice of the loved one that understood you shall be there.
But not the actual person.
Because of what you did.
Of what you said
For who you are
For what you represent
You can mend the wound, but not when it is already healed.
So now you must rehabilitate the person
Can you do that?
Can your voice be the restoring glimmer?
Can your hands be the forgiving light?
Can your eyes run with sorrowful tears?
Can you forgive yourself before you forgive others?
Will someone else do the same for you?
If you can answer “yes” to any of the above…
Then know that all of life’s wonders and blunders are waiting for you.
But all of that lies ahead of you
Not behind you.
We’ll see you sometime after this night but not before the night where we get drunk with some clowns and break charles manson out of jail for a card game with captain crunch and Mr. Clean. Cheers!