#mists
I'm floating on mists,
without legs: the Witch Mountain --
early at daybreak.
Sep 6, 2025
Sep 6, 2025 at 4:14 AM UTC
There are mists haunting
over the swampy heathland --
I don't dare go home.
Feb 13, 2024
Feb 13, 2024 at 2:36 AM UTC
...cuz I won't tell you IF you ask directly, my mind goes blank. You hafta come at it sideways.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCXCIX)
Quoth I, "while golden hours--" to find in pale
Excuse what?! Milton's sonnet answring thence:
"...lead on propitious May--" as blue skies hencxe
Yield not sae much kind warmth as on that scale
Urge 'non the soul to think of April's trail
Of violets through the budding woods leaves fence
With softest whispers, wherefore do I sense
Lo, summer ere that Febry's old, t'avail?
Yea further, why does my heart tremble fer
Favon'ous' merry hours' return as blue
Skies set that thought on fire as if it were
But weeks away? I struggle now as't woo,
'Gain yearning to stroll through the pines in tour
And listen to their voices like t'would do.
09Feb19a
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 12:54 AM UTC
Sink into the mists weary soul
For such pain does not belong,
To one dark, like midnight coal.
Sing, dear, such a lovely song.
One to call the lost and small
To bring a little light their way.
Hushed lullabies for all.
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 2:22 AM UTC
My hand didn't want to awaken those abjections
but the ink wondered aimlessly on the paper.
Sullen episodes were like a cloud on the page.
Mists of what was like heavy dew on my
mind, thoughts drooped uncontrollably.
Then they conceded under strain descending.
Ink was abstract as I never understood why
I felt this incosectant need to cry every thought
on paper. My reflection is not what I feel inside.
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 9:17 AM UTC
I'll never make you smile again,
Not as your lover,
Not as your friend;
Not like it was
Way back when.
What is now, is not then.
I can smile
When I recall
The laugh you gave
When we were all.
Each day our oyster,
Each night we'd cloister
From the day's travails.
But memory pales,
And your smile fades
Into the mists of recall.
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 10:34 AM UTC
cease awhile
and hold commune
with his fabrication
and admire
every cordant note
of a symphony yet unwritten.
t’was a nymph
saw i a-Maying
her comeliness
beggared the reach of art
outreached my arms
to touch her tidy traces
alack, gone she
in the mists of morn.
the moon-kissed bed
was light and life
with verdant dewy leaves
astride the speechless
mountain tops
a journey was begun
to rain again
his darts of gold
to every waiting one.
the blanket of
the skies was azure blue
on limpid waters seen
along her hurried way
she dropped those
gaudy flowrets beam.
saw i her locks
in every nodding palm
‘neath the tropic sun.
t’was birds do counterfeit
her melody the
rustling bamboo stole.
they utter now
sweet words of love
as winds doth
beat and blow
the roar and rush
of the swollen river asks:
what is it to you?
sprightly now
the winged ones
from bud to bud alight.
athirst, searching for that
self-same delight.
the crown of earth’s
flowing seas of grass
its mighty arms apart
attentive to the
incoherent whispers of
the breeze that chances by.
what now
messengers of the skies?
what saw you beyond
the floating clouds?
what find you at the
end of the rainbow?
what secrets lie hid
in yonder hills?
pray tell this
to the hurling spar
of the ever-running brook
for down and down and down
she goes to her anxious
ocean-brother.
could she have paced
the grotesque shore
to appease the bleating sea?
now she laps up
the sand-white beach
now she beats
the rock-bound shore with
shrill indignant murmur.
the shore and plain
nod assent
nay, my search is done.
twelve knotty hours
of day are gone and still
my find is none
to tease the gloomy
brow of night
aflame is all the west
in its expiring redolence
my happy nymph adieu.
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 7:09 PM UTC
Patterns float
obscured
by uncertain mists
recreating
a scene perceived
and painted
in washes of water colour
overlapping, merging
transfixed
fresh and timeless.
The shape
of routine activities
unpredictably change
or shatter
behind
the inexorable advance of time
as sequences
inevitably retreat
into a fading future
until the circle is complete.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
The mist was almost ethereal
It floated above the silent waters
But silent was not always
Peaceful, for too touch the mist
Visions,
Pain,
Faded
Limbs, as if the mist had amputated flesh,
But revealed gradually upon exiting
like lacerations it cut
As the mist faded, I could feel but not see,
Bone,
Nerves,
Flesh,
Skin now where mist had evaporated,
"Then the visions"
"Hard to explain"
To count the emotions, then blank,
I was burning, drowning
The torture with in my mind
I saw each one fall, taken by the waters
All that was sunk beneath
All that could have been
Now taken to the deep,
I looked upon the waters where mist
Did not creep,
Revulsion,
Anxiety,
Sorrow
For those beneath, like a tainted mirror
"Trying to break free"
For within each impact a wave
Washed ashore,
It corroded what life it touched
Anger was washing upon the riverbank,
"So many drowning slowly"
A last breath a life time of agony
Slowly those that exhaled the last,
No peace as the mist was there final curse,
Trapped within, souls screaming outwards,
"To touch felt there pain within"
"This river of the lost ones"
Those who thought freedom from
Pain, now suffered a lifetime within,
"For the forgotten river"
"Where the mist never falters"
"Try to drown your sorrows"
"Eternity will be the price paid"
One within the waters,
Eternal torment within the screaming ethereal mists..
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 10:58 AM UTC