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One of those north face nights
cloudless, dreamless
thousands of feet up and clinging
Wedged
between cold and moonlit— still

Red digits cannot contain
the 3:15 that they proclaim

Breathing sideways
to get enough!

The air is paper thin

Idle snow—
loitering….
(Symphony)
      
The lamp glows brightly now
i sit by my  pine table
the old fan quivers as it blows...sending
sheets of paper........fluttering...
mind, pen, paper, and hand
work side by side without end,
to bring out unspoken feelings
especially on long starry nights,
like tonight.

towards the table, I now lean,
my shadow slowly rises
it shields me as i start.

while tapping pen on paper,
the strong scent of "Dama de noche,"
swims through the dark atmosphere, slowly
penetrating my nostrils.........i hear the song
of the leaves.............a calming rustle,
a soft  touching of each other,
paving the way, for
pleasant thoughts to start streaming,
gentle musings long held inside
and kept alive...all now come into being
this sleepless night
......a poem's birthing, is nigh......

chest rises and falls,
on a peaceful rhythm
the soft touching of the leaves
my own breathing,
the old fan blowing,
with
sheets of paper fluttering,
and on paper...........pen tapping,
all these sounds, create my poetry's
symphony.

at length, i get weary
from writing my poems of thee,
outside, i watch dark shadows of trees swaying
a soulful music comes to mind
the sweetest hymn
ever hummed to me,
reminding me, it is time
to "take five...."


Sally

Copyright 2013
rrab
:::Please listen to Dave Brubeck's "Take Five.":::
(take five means...to rest...to take a break)
Beagles are braying to a southbound train
Are they entertained or do they croon with pain
Call them enchanted nonetheless for they howl be
it bright moonlight or pouring rain
Is this wailing or laughter , or early morning
banter
The song of the railroad plays before small towns all down
the silver line , trestles tapping time , the screech
of steel meeting steel , shorts taps of the whistle ,
the clap of the iron horse machinations , plowing
through lowland and hillside with naked aggression
Sing , piedmont hounds
Call the approach of the nighttime steam wagon , rustling wooden boxcars , creosote mingling with diesel , coal cars , lumber and ration
Copyright November 28 , 2017 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
To love,
      surety sure as the sky is blue
blue as any and all warmth
           of colored skin
true as truth on the lips
             of statues
of red lipstick on a rough chin
                  strong
as stronger hangs from steel
          taller skyscapes
and mountain limbs
            deep
deeper than a long call of
            an eagle soaring down
to her mate falling, falling
                  around down
down to almost crash
          but see
the seas as the blue rush crash
               on white sands beauty of
naked skin
                and hues of
sunlit scenes
                      in your bronze
brown skin your eyes,
    To love: In more brevity...
is all there is!
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