the balloons escaped the party
danced briefly on the wind
before being caught  in the
tendril grasps of the oak tree twigs

for a moment it looked like
the balloons all bright festive colours
were trying to lift the old tree
from the gloom of the grey winter day

but then the wind changed it's mind
and the strings untangled, the balloons
flew off toward the sea
and the tree settled back into a grumpy
acceptance of it's place in the word

as the children climbed up into
it's woody branches for a rough hug

I am hieroglyphic pottery
Broken before my
Time'd begun...
I tried to piece myself
Together, but found
The puzzle overrun.

I couldn't find the
Precious fragment
With which to keep
The water in...
It flowed out, yellow
And stagnant
Full of sickness
Full of sin.

Yes, I'm a hieroglyphic
Vase... a bowl with
Pictographs and runes
I'm whole now, you'll
Find this is the case,
I found the piece!
This blessed boon!

My hieroglyphics are
A summer scene,
The piece I needed
And I won,
Was the part which
Soared the heavens
The constant
Ever faithful

*SON.

From the framed picture hung on the wall
Two faces look nobly down
The faces of my grandma and grandpa
Taking me to the times gone by

Smiling at their wavering progeny,
They retell the saga of their blissful life
A life of selfless share and care
Inspiring generations in their travail

Curling back to times and climes primeval
I hear the sound of their footfalls aloud
In a humble dwelling, joyfully they lived
As children of the soil with hands full of toil

They worked together from dawn to dusk
Greeting every new dawn with fresher zeal
Their hearts were securely fastened in love
And had needs minimum and complaints nil

Two fountains that sprang from sources different
Had merged together before their early teens
Through wedlock they had been customarily bound
At a time when they hardly knew what it meant

Had played together as buddies for long
Until instinct made them man and wife
When fledglings were hatched in their little nest
They worked together never knowing rest

Hit by adversities hard, at times they sank very low
But with resilience, bounced back
And frugally saved every nickel and dime
To meet the needs of their growing household

They tottered together in the evening of their life
Serving as prop to each other when about to fall
In their twilight years, ambling the corridors of memory
They reminisced sweetly the joyful events of life

Now they lie together in the same churchyard
Two streams that evenly and tranquilly ran side by side
Never once been shattered on the rocks and shoals of life
Making one wonder if their life is History or Fable

In the swelling magnitude of our life
Though trivial was their share
Yet they stay as beacons of light
Leaving a trail of light to blaze our paths

There's a Dove
That casts no shadow
Of its story I will tell
It has flown to
Highest heaven
It has sunk to
Lowest hell

It is pure as
Sparkling snowbanks
It could melt them
Like the Sun
In the end, as at beginning
Over evil, Victory's won!
It will fill your
Soul with longing
It is the End
'Fore time's begun.

There's a Lion
On the prairie
He has strength
That over-awes
In His Face
You'll see compassion
He forgives
Egregious flaws
You can find
Your comfort, solice,
You could sleep
Between His paws

He is ferocious
He's Protection
He is gentler than a lamb
Yet he has the
Greatest power
For he is God -
The strong I AM.

There's a Rose
Within a garden
It's blood red,
For It's been torn
The Rose itself
Has greatest beauty
Tho It wears a
Crown of thorns
It is pure as
Light unblemished
It has grown
For death was born.

It has a scent
Beyond comparing
It has light
That shines within
It has died,
And yet is living
With it's fade
It took your sin

Come, all you
So weak and weary!
All three of these,
The trinity,
Will come into
Your life together
Give you eyes,
That you may see!

Yes, come, bring
All your broken places,
Your heart, or so
The Bible goes,
You'll find help
You will find healing

The Dove, The Lion,
and The ROSE.


SøułSurvivør
(C) 6/24/2017

The family is smiling on the dinner table.

This morn the hearse lifted the pall of hush
as white flowers rolled on wheels
lifting the spirit to heaven with the incense smoke
and the electric furnace like the magician
shrank the remaining kilos into neat pile of ashes
for the river to scatter to the sea of infinity
amid the silent prayer we're alive, long live the dead
the trudge back home where the count is one less
on the dinner table
mourning and celebrating.

Note the time
by seasonal migration
return of osprey, eagle
each feathered pearl
a moment strung
on the banded necks
of brants and loons
velvet-lined memories
gathered within
my threatened
wild spaces

raindrops find
their way home
watch them bead
on the backs
of sitting ducks
serenely surfing
sibilant waves
silkily filling
oceans within
my tumultuous
wild heart