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Darkling Aug 2015
The tittering leaves chutter
    softly to me - embracing
    the clouded sky, portent
    to a coming
    storm.  We could not care
    any less - embrace the heavy
    clouds, a molten mood.

My thoughts are wild, omnipotent
     unhinged.  Lapping water
    tempers the coming
    rain - whispers to me with
    those newly born saplings

Coaxing me to
    freedom, release from
    pain and present

A hope in deluge

A silent thunder ignites.
While writing has always been at the center of who I am, sometimes the challenge of putting thoughts to paper so honestly is too much for me.  Because of this, I've gone through several periods of silence, often lasting years and years.  

Last summer, a very dear friend of mine challenged me to write a poem a week, and he would do the same - he wasn't able to keep his end of the bargain, but in retrospect, I think the sole purpose was to get me to write again,

I am so glad he did.
alaric7 Jan 2018
You pile salt to envelop bulls’ flesh but not before bees find lost hive.

Fluctuating Hesperides tangle begats, unknot pearly everlasting’s.

         Starlings, ravens, fill presiding oaks with chutter.

Tall-eyed dandelion, almond-poached porphyry eyelash,

comfort hermitage, every tool a die, every fool a sty.  

Might quick shadowy poesie reproach Castile,

conquer pedestrian, rebut baroque, indent emerald.  

                  Do not explain anything.

Lady Murasaki’s long line reaches beyond September.

— The End —