Evening's light lies languorously
Across the land,
Waiting for
The quietly encroaching night
To bestow her
With beauty.

A lone blackbird sings
Fine-tuning the quiet orchestra of the heavens.
The world holds its breath, and waits
For the symphony of starlight
To begin.

When we'd figured out
What life here was all about
The asteroid hit

A flower's beauty
Lives not within earthly realms
Only within dreams

Also love, as things unseen
Lives forever, floating me

©  2017 Jim Davis

called, "when I am dead"

and what came to mind, while
pecking away

were thatched roof cottages, hedgerows
all along a cliff,

and waves below whipping against
earth's spine

farther out were great swells
and black ships foundering

sea serpents were darting through
the green depths

this spectacle was silent, the screaming
men, the crashing waves

even the charcoal sky, threaded with a
thousand bolts of lightning

birthed no thunder, though I didn't
wonder why

I was supposed to among the dead
where vibrations abound

though none pound against
eardrums

such silence, I was told, was tantamount
to solace

but men were drowning, and fires leapt
across the waters

and no passage led up the cliffs to home
and sanctuary from this terrific tempest

A mystery of raging here a breath
that fashion this batch with bunches  
at lunch they golf round their attire
but a tailspin for a fragrance
with a flair for rehabilitation where they
sought final substantiation and
this club swings mere saturation.

O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.