A sea, you are,  regrets that wash ashore
Incessant waves of mem'ries stinging salt
Each rush assails her heart forevermore
Envaulting swells that fill her lungs with fault

A woman's love assaulted by her sea
Thus born to bear what men on boats deny
compassion deep that weeps eternally
Thus born to grieve, reproached by men who lie

Lo' billows raised by wind unbraids her hair
On wings of prayer that fearless love foresees
She lifts to lofty realms all men who dare
to rescue fools who sail on wormwood seas

Her love doth foam with swirling discontent
as countless souls to ocean's graves are sent


gv feb.19.17

A Shakespearian sonnet. Iambic pentameter
I

I was strewn
scattered wide
brooding foreheads of jagged stone
thirsty fragments
unfit for purpose
rugged - broken - lying alone

She - pure water
seeping in sand
dark and deep - unrequited and stilled
Her eternal spring
but a fearful trickle
Her destiny hidden - unfulfilled          

Open earth!
a forested crevice
Shake - Tremble - Set her free
Release her flood
of secret desires
splashing joyfully over me        

I will be
her playful bed
smoothing my edges - providence smiled
I will make her ripple
rushing with laughter
kissing her droplets - wet and wild

Cascading to  
her lyrical rill
we'll sing forever - in our sacred stream
She is my lover
caressingly she runs
once worthless rubble -  She did redeem!

gv   For my lovely wife. Feb.19.2014

I would have no universe without you
drawing me tight
in centrifugal embrace

Without your vows of devoted attraction
I would be flung ~ unsung
into black groans of space

But for the quest of your pulsing heart
I would expire ~ diminished
void of light

You chose to dance with my imperfections
my frenzy ~ in submission
spiraling in delight

In passionate embryonic fusion
you held me  ~ a spec  begotten
my inner darkness ~ forever  forgotten


gv.   1.2015
(Spect.   A single photon emission)
Music:  Speck Of Dust by Fellows

fallen warrior's    dying gaze  .  .  .
blurry sun    she braids gold rays
gilded strands     grace Avrey’s hair
misty     tear-pooled stare  .  .  .





Dodoitsu. 7-7-7-5 (26) syllables
gv  .2015

Pfc. B.V. ,  a 22 year old mother of a little girl named Avrey
was Killed in 2010,  by an IED, RPG attack near Kunar province,
(145 military women killed as of April.1.2013 in Afghanistan, Iraq & Kuwait

Selah    babes Reborn
Inhumed    in His bed of straw
Golgotha’s manger


gv 12.26.18
Form: Senryu

her first cry

never   teared your eyes


her first smile

never   dimpled your cheeks


her first giggle

of joyous recognition

never   mothered your heart


her first word

never   tickled your ears


her first step

never   reached your arms



almost



a prayerful pause ~ spindles time

through its aperture ~ she has your eyes !

‘tho a minutest inflection ~ you see your face !

what joyous recognition ~ self ~ in-dwelt

her flutter ~ divinely felt



You named her   Grace



gv 18.29.3  18a

Innumerable . . . stars are
countless joys so immeasurably far
laughter . . . shimmering silently
or lamenting twinkling tears

mysterious messengers fluoresce
what wonders are wrought . . . so wordless
in spiral formulae undiscovered
inscribed by ancient seers

a murmuring quiescence pulsates
to a childlike sorrowful  plea
eternity pauses to listen
to a prayer . . . from Gethsemane


wh gv Mar.16.2007

Look!
now they sleep      bloodless warriors
pandemonium stilled      agony slain tranquil
death sanctified in rigid cartesian rows
honored for their sacrifice and selfless valiance
laid to rest beneath mourning grasses

Ask!
where was the higher honor due them      before war
are sacred vows      to be profaned      to be misemployed
                            
Why!
do once verdurous lives lay cold and pulseless
as spatters of red petals      tearfully fall
families breathing wistful flowers
distilling rue      with lulling scents

Adjudge!
all men      who enact lies
dishonoring crossed graves
greed calibrating scales of injustice
bodies tilted high by tonnages of gold
Aurelian kisses      vaulting wars riches

Do Not!
dishonor a warrior’s willingness to die
for bravados mouth is a soldier’s tomb
do not forsake truth and honor    our only faithful ally
ask ten-thousand whys      before one soldier dies
before the bugler's breath      sounds death's lamenting cries

Think!
Contemplate war’s fiery womb
hatred    born inextinguishable
good & evil     indistinguishable

Look, what stillborn bones lie locked in battle
this fleshless monster      we mis-named peace        


gv.2014


Matthew 6:13 . . . deliver us from “evil”
Evil as translated in 6:13 is "Poneros" A name also attributed to Satan
Which means:  "he is not content unless drawing others into the same destruction as himself"
(From Lexicon to the New Testament by Spiros Zodhiates, TH.D

"Soon
the world
won’t have a rib intact.
And its soul will be pulled out."

A line from Vladimir Mayakovsky's 1917 poem , Call To Account

“They made a wasteland and called it peace” Publius Cornelius Tacitus

Seb's young fertile face beamed African royalty
even in the penury of this Nigerian refugee camp.
Her mother's downcast eyes shunned the camera's querying lens,
while Seb's, "I-love-you", eyes were welcoming.

Seb's eyes were as blossom-petaled obsidian pools,
each pierced by the light of a distant star.
Her blackness did not succumb to woeful displacement,
but shone with the promise of an overcoming spirit;
for a Mother's prayers were writ in the marrow of her bones.

Born with a tenacity to love,
her young heart leaped out through trusting inquisitive eyes.
Her tongue, budding out of rich dark faced soil, seemed eager
to taste the sweet juices that her spirited-eyes promised;
smiling, "l love you", behind barbed wired love-me-nots.

Seb was a child . . . full of joyful expectations.
A child who did not choose this world;
'tho born of a Spirit conceived to love . . .
to love the . . . hell . . . out from her world.


gv 4.2015  Word Hobo

~~~~~~

(Note: This piece came out of seeing this fascinating photograph
by Sebastian Rich,  of Seb clinging to her Mother in a camp for displaced Nigerians.)

Link to this Photo of Seb and her Mother:

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-04-26/infectious-and-innocent-smiles-from-war-zones/7355958

Scroll down to Ninth Photo
Caption  :  A Nigerian child in a UNICEF clinic, who was finally on the road to a full recovery after suffering from severe acute malnutrition. Her unprompted smile filled my lens.


I would encourage all to visit the website of Sebastian Rich.  His heart-gripping photography is incredibly moving and meaningful.

sabastianrichphotography.com.

As I sit . . .
green leaves hang . . . motionless . . .
~our earth spins on it's axis over a thousand miles per hour~

As I watch . . .
adagio grasses bow in repose . . .
~our earth orbits the sun over sixty-six thousand miles per hour~

As I rest . . .
vinca vines trail unruffled . . .
~our solar system whirls around the milky-way over five-hundred thousand miles per hour~

As I wonder . . .
flowers pose placid and serene
~our milky-way hurls headlong over a million miles per hour~

In my garden . . .
stillness reigns resolute . . . amidst this unimaginable tempestuous maelstrom

I am called to witness this defiance;
this static anarchy against the universe's irresistible momentum
I am surrounded by leafy verdure in stock-still solidarity;
blossoms colored with un-budged boldness
and tendriled vines in composed contempt
I am called to witness this unperturbed mutiny against torrid irascible forces

As I sit . . . musing on this peaceful anarchy

I think on He . . . that humble anarchist
waging peace against war
love against hate
grace against revenge
His submissive cheek immovable against brutish forces

I sit . . .
peacefully content in my garden of Eden
unmoved . . .
by the celerity of this careening world


geo.vuy 2015

Write - untamed !    in fearless insecurity
unconstrained by censure
silence or petty malcontents

seeking not   gratuitous affections
embattled by honesty
against oppression    voice dissent

form - finds her beauty in a winding oaken staircase
poetry - toils within each acorn
crafting her spiraled ascent

seek thy inmost pen     twitching  'neath bound skin
in living script    DNA writes
so mysteriously eloquent

restring mind's bow    thoughts reified as arrows
in ardent release    unwavering    let fly !
Artistry - true to thy own hearts intent

~~~~

A fallen acorn cannot imagine its life
formed into a winding  oaken staircase.
As the oak tree cannot love the artisan carpenter;
a fallen world cannot conceive of what artistry
God's Carpenter desires to craft within  us.

geo.v  4/2015


A reading by: Horace (translated by Francis)

"The wood-born race of men when Orpheus tam’d,
From acorns, and from mutual blood reclaim’d.
The Priest divine was fabled to assuage
The tiger’s fierceness, and the lion’s rage."