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Jai Rho Mar 2014
I hear the falcon
but not the falconer;
its prescient screech
claws at my ears

The shadow of its wings
is delivered by the sun
but those who gather
in its path cry out in vain

The worst conflate
their ways with
passionate intensity,
belied by lack of
true sincerity

And yet the best
decline to rise or cease
virtue as vulnerability;
they watch unwittingly

as the falcon turns above,
finding no footsteps
into Bethlehem
Jai Rho Mar 2014
You were Ukraine
Now you are my land
But you didn't know all the ways I owned you, no
So you took a chance
And made other plans
But I bet you didn't think that they would come crashing down, no

You don't have to say, what you did,
I already know, I found out from Yanukovych
Now there's just no chance, for you without me, there'll never be
And don't it make you sad about it

You told me you obeyed me
Why did you leave me, all alone
Now you tell me you don't need me
When you call me, on the phone
Sovereignty I refuse, you must have me confused
With some other ruler
Your bridges are burned, and now it's your turn
To cry, Crimea river
Crimea river-er
Crimea river
Crimea river-er, yea yea
Jai Rho Mar 2014
You
You
are the living breathing expression of a singular moment in the unyielding march of time

You
are unique as the shape of a newly formed crystal emerging from a storm filled cloud, finding its way to a bed of freshly fallen snow

You
are the flow of a river running through canyons, soothing edges from clashing stones, sparkling now and then in the rays of the sun and the sated beams of a harvest moon

You
are the beat of a drum in a warlord's prance and the breath of a flute in a diva's dance

You
are the present, the instant, the essence of the distilled day

You
are nevermore

You
are forevermore

You
Jai Rho Mar 2014
“Good afternoon, Mr. Leitch.  Have you had a busy day?”

     Grey eyes peered over wireframe spectacles and gazed upon a vision that lifted the corners of his mouth.  “Yes, quite.  Thank you for asking.  So lovely to see you again, my dear.”

     As she entered the tailor’s shop and lithely traced her fingers across yards of brightly colored silk, and muted finely woven wool, her companion quietly assembled outside the entrance door.  He had selected a prime location adjacent to the neighboring baker’s store.  At that hour, the wafting mixed aromas of warm cookies, cakes, baguettes and shepherd’s bread would lure workers of the day from their homeward paths for just a bit of something to fill their evening meals, or add a little nuance to the setting of the sun.

     “And you as well, kind Sir.  I do adore observing the mastery in the magic of your finery.”

     “Well now, what a lovely thing to say.  And I adore listening to you as well.  But no more of that ‘Sir’ business.  You must call me ‘Arthur,’ as I have said before.”

     “Ah, then no more of that ‘dear’ business.  You must call me ‘Kathy,’ and we shall both listen to more lovely sounds that will soon fill this room.”

     At that moment, when the tailor’s eyes began to sparkle, Kathy’s companion began to strum a well-seasoned lute as he sang a refrain from an old Yorkshire ballad:

          Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
          Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
          Remember me to one who lives there
          For once she was a true love of mine

Then slowly, a crowd began to gather, one-by-one and in twos and threes, of those emerging from the bakery or simply passing by, as lamplights began to glow against the evening sky.    

          Tell her to make me a cambric shirt
          Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
          Without a seam or needlework
          Then she shall be a true love of mine

Entwined within the strumming, individual notes came alive and danced their way across the frets and fingerboard to leap and float about the crowd.  In time with the rhythm and the melody, pence and schillings soon found their way into the instrument’s open case, sounding light percussive accompaniment and applause.

     And then as though entranced, Kathy twirled about the tailor’s shop and took the tailor’s hand, to lead him out into the square and join the merry band.  She smiled a wondrous look, with eyes closed to the scene around her, as she gazed upon the vision within her, and her sweet voice shared its verse:

          Tell him to find me an acre of land
          Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
          Between the salt water and the sea sand
          Then he shall be a true love of mine

Then Kathy gave a laugh or two, and raised her arms to the incandescent night, as a blackbird perched itself atop the crescent moon, resting in the palms of her hands.
Jai Rho Mar 2014
If he loves himself
more than you,

Then he is only one,
not two
Jai Rho Mar 2014
When Theia crashed
Into the Earth
Four billion years ago,
It was initially
Absorbed
And then let go,
To orbit for eternity in unwinding rings and slow

When Voyager
Flew past Jupiter at
Breakneck speed
or more, it caught
A glimpse and teased
Propulsion that
paused
The giant just a bit,
Every
Trillion
Years
Or
So
Jai Rho Mar 2014
They're not undoable
but they are reversible
if you stop and realize

that braille on your skin
meant for the blind
cannot be read
by those who cannot feel

shouting at deaf ears
will only rob you
of your voice
and drown out anyone
who cares

There is no way
to take away
inflicted pain with more
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