Rain comes slashing ‘cross my windowpane,
My summer comes abruptly to an end.
Once again, I’m calling out her name,
In my head it’s easy to pretend.
Sin ti no tengo sol, Alena.

Slow as Summer’s lazy days,
At rest, the River dozes;
Lulls the fish, in many ways,
To swim in carefree poses.
Me: upon the river’s edge,
An unassuming sinner,
Pole and drowning worm, I pledge
To make these fish my dinner!
‘Neath the shroud of sycamore
Or oak (I have to proffer)
Shaded on the lazy shore
For sleep is all they offer.
Care be gone! This way I live
For if a moment planted,
Let the day get as she give
A prayer, the rest she granted.
Gentle as the River flows
I lost determination .
Hungry only for repose,
I’ve closed my eyes to ration.

In sleep, I die a little more
Than where I’d been the night before.
My heart, tho’ pounding in my chest,
Wanes each and ev’ry passing breath
For nothing done can now restore.

By day, I live a little less.
Time marches on. I only guess
I’m closer to a bitter end
As Time has never been my friend,
Tho’ much was wasted, I confess.

I pause, contrite, in deep lament
For useful energy— never spent,
Or opportunity— never taken;
Disappeared— left forsaken,
Wond’ring where my youth was sent?

Now, I could dwell and wonder why
In pity for my clouded eyes,
Or rise, take in, as chances wait
For open heart. It’s not too late
To live before my time to die!

I walked a lonely mile
To seek love, unattained,
When I was but a child—
Alas, no love remained.

I walked a lonely mile,
Escape those uninspired
Caught up to the rank and file
And gave in when I tired.

I walked a lonely mile,
A distance I thought long,
But once I turned a’quile
Discovered I was wrong.

And being all the while,
In limit of my range,
I walked that lonely mile
Yet nothing ever changed.

I wish that I could fly
As high as any bird on feathered wing,
To soar and proudly sing
Above the trees; to touch an azure sky!

So happily I’d sing
The purest joy of song and merriment,
As if though Heaven sent
From Angels, given by God’s welling spring!

And from my fancied flight
I’d worry not of life or death, or care
Of wealth or strife, unfair,
Or sully, selfishly, one single night!

But I am only Man
And thus, I know not truest happiness
As life, a complex mess
For me, is difficult to understand.

Low is Winter, dressed in white,
Short by day, long by night,
Sleeping flora, muted light,
Betrays the wonder of my sight.

Lest ye love Winter’s grasp
Holding tight her frigid fast;
Pray to sun and green of past
So far away, a doubt is cast.

Maketh mercy, thoughts o’ small
Find a warmth from minded wall,
But cold is fact and doth forestall.
Fantastic dreams don’t work at all.

So, leave me Winter, now depraved,
Dependent to the source you gave.
Restless for the warming wave
And green of leaf in conscious, save.

The moving blanket of clouds dull the light of day
Darkening my shadow in my little room.
My body feels the energy of rain and wind
Tho I am only witness, not in contact.
So, I write upon my tablet as my thumbs touch each letter
Crafting the work seen here. But I have not to say.
No purpose but to write. No sense of story.

That is who I am.

When withered roses on the vine are doomed
To that which all rewards, sufficed, fulfilled,
Deformed by age and death, their use long tilled,
Returned to Earth as if they never bloomed,
‘Tis my despair, consumed by moral plight,
As I go round in circles with my mind:
Am I a selfish fool to rage this fight
To tear away these mortal ties that bind?
Rejection better fields those I depend,
Protect and push away their battered souls,
Betray the basic human needs; pretend
An independence draws my certain goal!
So, for these reasons stated here above,
I’ve made my choice, and Thus I cannot love.

I brought along my melancholy smile
To show my friends I’m doing fine.
I’ll hide behind this tattered mask awhile
So nary one may sense decline.
And I will cheat their ev’ry deep concern
By simply brushing with my hand
The worries they will state but never learn
As none would ever understand.
This tattered mask has served me very well
Through all my days of inner rain,
When cause for celebration I can sell
My feeble smile to hide the pain.
So when my friends suspect distress and ask
I simply don this well-worn, tattered mask.

When the moonlight hides behind looming clouds,
Lightning signals the tempest within,
Sonic rumblings deep in its shroud
Portents the restive, unruly din
Of the gathering storm.

To unveil this Tyrant’s burgeoning spring,
Great with terror, a dark presence looms,
Born unrivaled this terrible thing
Consumes the sky in a caste of gloom
From the gathering storm.

And the power awe-strikes torment for all,
Bids the groundling no place to retreat.
Shelter cannot protect from this pall!
A wary, battered, scornful deceit
Breeds the gathering storm.

And wind will ordain what the Earth must defend!
And raindrops untamed in a rage will descend!
And talk among Heads in this battle conspire,
Creating deep troughs in the muck and the mire!
The storm will increase with a shattering sound
And Heads will claim shelter, their troughs will abound!
And those who take sides to escape from the flood
Discover the real truth when trapped in the mud!

And when force conceived, unnat’ral, defined,
Takes the civil as lambs for slaughter,
Raises Cain when the Post reads unkind,
‘It’s time to hide your sons and daughters
From the gathering storm!

I drank too much again last night.
Think I called you on the cell,
Said some words and caused a fight.
See, things for me ain’t  goin’ too well.
‘Nother job lost. Arrived too late
For a third day in a row.
I hit the sauce and left to fate
A future moving much too slow.
Then pawned my chains to pay the rent
Instead I bought more beer.
‘Cause sittin’ home is time well spent
To hide this lonesome fear.
I made mistakes with you, I know,
I wish that I could change ‘em,
Toss ‘em for the wind to blow
Or, at least, rearrange ‘em.
I popped another beer just now,
To quench this endless thirst.
So many emptied, still, somehow
It’s like I’m on my first.
So, I’ll drink too much again tonight,
Try to call you on the cell.
Maybe I can set things right,
See, things for me ain’t goin’ too well.

Go and strike thou penniless moral,
Stake thou claims meant not for all!
Godspeak high unto White Tower,
Let men fear thou fear and glower!
Sake! forsake thou enemies color,
Nay! can one and be another!
Shroud thou friend betroth to violence:
Thy sleep in silence.

And go and spread the hate thou pray
To ***** the nerve thou canst portray!
And say thou words in fervent rage
To slay the dreams thou locked and caged!
“Bitter be thy pill thy wealth”,
And simper back thou rotter self!
Thou can ply on truth defiance:
Thy sleep in silence.

I often find my posits dreadful,
Happiness flies merely fleet,
So much compounds, accosts a headful
Angry, gnawing, awful heat!
In joyful sorrow I must live
For truest joy is not to be
And frightened by, as laws decree,
A final debt, a life to give.
(Then summons me, my last repose,
To Heavens Gate, that some suppose.)

I cannot shed this melanchol’,
So Viper-like time’s turbulence,
Nor sally forth ‘pon brevet fall,
Conning self in feckless hence
When plaintiff Hell wraths from my lips,
“O’ Fie! Ye craven Viper! Fie!
Why should it be that I must die?”,
By fevered brain’s convulsive flips.
(As if a Viper’s state be blamed
For thus which gives me abject pain.)

And in these throes of torrid temper
Comes a hummingbird in flight,
Engaged in moments: basic, simpler,
Perfect-formed wee aero-sprite!
So happily he flits about
When seeking nectar, bloom-by-bloom,
In flowers bright as peacock plumes
And worries not of Earthly doubts.
(For hummingbirds have innate sense
Of urbane thoughts and true pretense.)

His playful flight in mayful flutter
Sagely parries ‘**** the trees
Through ev’ry leaf he flies a’scutter
Daring, as his heart will please!
My dearth, it seems, I now forget;
A tiny smile claims my face
And grows to full by levied grace
To pause my Earthly-borne regret!
(This newly forged respite from woe
Has cast away my pitied trow!)

What revelation rids my sadness
(All those worries disappear)
And what was anguish turns to gladness
Gone, the nagging mortal fears.
O’ they’ll return, I have no doubt,
To wrest my contemplative mind
But now assured that I can find
A joyful thought to fight such bout
I will forever carry near.
And to the hummingbird in flight
I’ll cherish how you drew my sight
To rid a foolish mortal’s tears.
(As hummingbirds will understand
The foibles taken by our hand.)

By my imagined state grows timeless stroll
As walkway winds and wends through floral sights,
Sun rays quenching colors bright as pure gold
And I, entranced by limitless delight.

My walk has brought ‘pon rarest sight, a rose,
New in splendor; its being, its beauty,
Gazed by mortal man this moment. Her prose
Brings wonder: a child of Aphrodite,
So pure, so perfect, bestows me honor,
Deems me worthy, first sight her blessed grace?
Do such fortunes bring mind and sight to fore,
Smitten by welcome scent and petal face?

To ponder such encounters bears this claim
Of love! Cupid’s arrow pierces heart, dulls
My senses, yet inflames me through my veins
And love (O’ Love!) becomes my passion call!
In rapture, now enchanted, I declare,
“We will never part!” She must now be mine!
I alone, recognize her truest fair,
Pluck this gift, bring to fore, forever thine!

Lo’, I find folly tangled in this thought;
She will never live or see true purpose.
My plan, a crime against the essence sought
This Rose could not sustain. By rend of thus
I lay condemnation of certain death,
Let selfish Love rule my poor emotions
That I now ache in sorrowed epithet!
O’ how blind am I in false devotion!

But I have not, yet, torn Rose asunder.
She remains still complete in sight regale.
I am not the monster here to plunder,
I am, by guidance, he that right prevails.
Heart and mind as one in conscience reasons,
My Rose, my Love, is for all living things,
A courtesan beholden short of season
But what joyful presence for her I sing!

Time moves fast, impatient with my ration
(I have much of to see ‘for this journey’s end),
So, fond farewell my foundling love and passion,
My heart so weak that hope cannot amend.
With bittersweet smile this quest before me;
To walk this path in a joyful sorrow,
My Rose, this rose in cherished memory,
I’ll be miles away from here tomorrow.

My garden glades ‘pon simple steppe
Where grass and stone unite,
O’ersees and proctors Summer’s light
Like a promise kept.
A distant remote oasis,
Far side of grassy sea,
A secret from Humanity?
What cruel fate is this?
But Lilies of this garden grow
In pageantry of red
Where much to see is left unsaid,
For who would e’er know?
An island to themselves they stay,
Blooms reaching Heavenward;
Unrivaled brilliance flames absurd!
Yet who would e’er say?
But Lilies live for bird and bees
Not for Man’s said pleasure;
Legacy is their true measure,
Caring not who sees.
These foolish thoughts I often build
Lays better judgement bared.
Man is not, by Nature, cared-
She cannot be willed!
I struggle with these final words
Drawn from simple knowledge:
O’ modest reason, I do pledge!
Ne’er my hand disturbs!
So, grow my Lilies, mark your place
In truest mind and sake.
My heart pines for the joy you make
T’mend this wretch’s waste!

I felt no love before last night-
My heart in doorless cloister,
Drowning in self-pity-
Reticent.
But you were here, waiting-
Waiting for that moment
I’d say “Enough!”,
Release my heart
And give it back to you.

I often dream a Winter chalet
Nestled ‘pon a timbered hill,
Below display’n the snowy valley
Where a village braves the chill.
A fresh new snow invades to sally
Forth, to wit, yon scenic fill.

And evergreens lay low and heavy—
Look as tho’ they’re frosted treats—
And in a clear the children levy
Making merry when they meet,
And soon the church bells ring a’bevy:
Joyful days lay at my feet!

I’d never mend you
For, as beautif’ly broken,
You are perfection.