Paterfamilias

For Eldon Edge

An empty chair beside the fireplace waits,
And lamplight falls upon an open book,
Pen, pocketknife, keys for the pasture gates,
Dad’s barn coat hanging from its accustomed hook.

But he will not return; his duties now
Transcend the mists of the pale world we know,
And you in grief must carry on, somehow;
Your duty is here, for God will have it so

The good man takes that chair reluctantly;
It is a throne of sorts, and one imposed,
Not taken as a prize, triumphantly,
But in love’s service, and in love disposed.

An empty chair beside the fireplace waits
For you, whom doleful duty consecrates.

Sonnet
  3d Black
wordvango

tears in my eyes
and stormy clouds
thunders seek
to make me rain down on you

closing in are
the sounds
of humidity
the magnitude
of falling
pressures

now these  
once fluffy
things turned dark and
violet
angry

I reposed
back on red earth
quandering
my head to the west
my feet ready to run
under the nearest tree

pull her limbs to me
hide
in plain sight
yet  
accepting my course

seeing seeking some
kind of
roaring clasp
maybe I am
ashamed

or feel my sins are
unforgivable

Stars gather in a twinkly show
     moon ascending in the dark sky,
          drowsy souls falling asleep
               in the still of night passing by.

        Drifting,
              floating,
                  peaceful dreams


               in gentle flows of height, and depth,
         myriad auroras of colors dance
a soft melody, on whispered breath.

Lingering just a moment or two
      as the world of dreams take hold,
           putting tired souls at ease
               in a soothing light of mosaic gold.

        Drifting,
              floating,
                  in songs of night


            magical melodies fill the air,
      floating upon a gentle breeze
tranquil moments, and answered prayers.

Stars gather in a twinkly show,
     moon ascending in the dark sky,
          drowsy souls falling asleep,
               in the still of night passing by.
~

© 2017 Brianna Love/SA/DBMA

Black Sep 12

There's poetry in every heart and songs in every soul.
Upon the stage of life we act...and learn our mortal role.

Some players will not learn their lines...and so they use "asides"...
To struggle to the final scene where hooded Death abides.

I'll not let a chance go by. I'll listen to thy muse.
Recite the verses in my heart. Thy melody...don't lose.

And perform thy role as if thy life's of Oscar-worthy praise...
A story worthy of renown...to last til end of days.

And smile through 'black' adversity. Cast weariness aside.
Within, there is a symphony where noble notes abide.

My life will be an amusement park. I'll enjoy each thrilling ride!
As the roller coaster will go on...and heaven will abide.

No time like the present to live your life.
  Sep 7 Black
Palmer

I'm floating adrift
Battered but alive clinging
Mermaids save pirates

Black Sep 5

I sit beside a babbling brook and feed the conversation...
While listening to its sly reply and dwell in rumination.

The consonants o'er river rocks, with vowels begin to jumble...
And soon the metaphorical...with similes will tumble.

My mind begins to understand...articulate, the water.
I think my meds are kicking in...or maybe it's just hotter.

The brook is babbling...so am I...and so, the Muse...I leave...
And homeward now, my creaking bones...as up the bank, I weave.

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