Fertile earth’s seductive sorcery
Like ephemeral effulgence’s effluent effusion
Can lead you to believe that it’s not a travesty
Like life’s visceral intuitive eternal is not lost in subtle evasive confusion

Life’s virile translucence reflects this glow
Like an aorist ensemble of interludes transposition
Can lead you to believe that you’re in the know
Like omnipresence presages omniscience’s ubiquity is existential exigency’s peroration’s exposition

Corporeally preternatural metaphysical mystique
Like a mirador bartizan tableau panorama
Can inspire us to rise above its critique
Like spatiotemporal’s telemetry incarnate is creation’s vivid intrepid cyclorama

Spectral verve’s liaison’s consortium
Like eclectic synectic’s conclave’s fatidic
Can leave you lost in germane compendium
Like terminus thrall’s apriori inclination is transcendental accession’s endemic mnemonic

Monad’s transitional majestic splendor
Like residual harmonic vibration’s resilience
Can autonomously evoke and vicariously render
Like rubato’s actuator’s prospectus revealed is orchestration rendition’s intriguing brilliance

Eidetic preterit’s aesthetic amendments
Like protractive analyses’ dimensional delineation
Can lead to cogent salacious enticements
Like phantasmagoria’s fantasia fantastication’s magniloquence is sultry solace’s ostentatious ideation

Earth (Pangaea)

Pangaea heaved and shifted
beneath the fire-storm sky.
Colliding plates and spewing mountains
shook, roared and thundered
under the brutal chaos
of torrential cataclysms.

In time she yielded her ire
to millennia of pacific rains -
her severed crust
set adrift across the oceans
like gigantic earthen rafts.

Jungles sprang up and terrible lizards
came, grazed and left their bones.
Forests, grains and multifarious beasts
grew and perished in accord
with their past and future destinies.

So here we are - earthbound,
tossed from our mothers' wombs -
fated to live and breed
by the grace of miracles
far beyond our ken.

Beloved mother Gaia,
from whose dust we are raised,
nurture and sustain us
and sing us to our mortal sleep.

2. Air

Air - earth's miracle brew of
     oxygen, nitrogen and all the rest
          meted out in perfect harmony.

Air - silent and still on a moonlit night -
     driver of sheeted rain on window panes -
          and winds that shake the trembling aspens.

Air - author of land and ocean squalls -
     bringer of that ominous pallor
          that presages a tornado's furor

Air - invisible aerial highway
     for majestic eagles and turbo-jets -
         medium of rhetoric and symphonies.

Air – window to the cosmos
      and our fragile life–giving broth -
          unwitting conveyer of toxic alchemy.

Keep watch my sisters and brothers:
     the air we breathe is what we make it
          or rather what we let it be.

3. Water

Water like a capricious deity
     wanders through time and topography -
     cherished and cursed for
     what it gives and what it takes away.

Gentle rains and strident gales
     sculpt rivers and streams
     through forests and plains
     bound for union with the open sea.

Diurnal tides ebb and wane
     at the whim of the charismatic moon.
     Ice mountains advance and retreat;
     rock-strewns moraines left in their wake.

Turbulent currents
     soar over jagged cataracts,
     spraying pastel prisms
     across the misted valleys.

Beneath our all too fragile skins,
     secret sanguine rivers navigate
     our veins and arteries
     bathing organs, limbs and sensors
     with curative balm and sustenance.

Wellspring of all elements,
     fill our daily ladles
     and grant us the will and empathy
     to bequeath the same to our progeny.

4. Fire

Two hundred million years ago
our Paleolithic cousins
seized branches from a burning forest
and stepped into a bold new world.

By the glow of fire-lit caves,
and the scent of searing venison,
they gathered wits and tools
to craft shelters and weaponry.

Their children's children would design
forges and furnaces, factories
and build engines that run on fire.

But their anxious siblings in despair
snatched lightning from the sky
and twisted by fits of anger pride
made also muskets, missiles, bombs
and nuclear Armageddons.

Loki, god of nobler flames
open our blood-stained eyes
and show us the means
to stay our arson lust and
abide by the light of reason.

*Revised and integrated version, December, 2015

The sun boils off its heat-light flares
        over 93,000,000 miles away
                yet as close to us as sunburn -
    drafting the circles of our years.

Our ancestors fill our boots
        with us and our descendants
                (one pair - so many feet)
    stepping out to where we've been.

Along the corridors of time,
        our mind screens play what passed
                before we fledged and fled our nests:
    There is here and then is now.

Whether we tilt the earth to shake out
        wisdom, fame or empathy
                or let chaos light our paths,
    our curiosity is a sturdy ladder raised

to scale the walls of space and time.
        Who cares that life presages death and
                decay calls breath from dust?
    Our earthly sojourns - our souls' domain.

*January, 2007

There is a fair bit of you in every garden of my life.
Truly, that is nothing extraordinary, you should know it as objectively as I do.

Nevertheless, there is something I’d like to clarify:

When I say "in every garden”,
it is not only in relation to this of now,
this of waiting for you, of hoorah! i found you!, and ******! i lost you!,
and found again, and hopefully stops there.

Nor in regard of you suddenly telling me "I’m going to cry”,
then with a discrete lump in my throat "well go ahead”.
And then a graceful invisible rainfall arrives to assist us,
perhaps the reason the sun rises unhesitatingly right after.

I’m not just referring either
at the day-to-day fluctuation of the stock in our little decisive complicities,
or that I could or believe I can turn my deficiencies to victories,
or of you to bestow upon me the tenderest gift of your most recent despair.

No.
The situation is more serious.
When I state “in every garden” I mean to say that in addition to that sweet cataclysm,
you are also rewriting my childhood,
that age when one utters "grown up” and solemn phrases,
and the solemn grown ups celebrates them,
and conversely, you think of it irrelevant.

What I mean to say is,
you are reassembling my adolescence,
that time when I was an old man full of insecurities,
and contrarily, you know how to extract from there,
my germ of joy and consciously spread it.

What I mean to say is,
you are stirring my youth,
that vain vessel no one took hold of, that proud shade no one got close to,
and you on the other hand knows very well how to shake it
until the autumn leaves start falling
till there is nothing but the flesh of my triumphless truth.

What I mean to say is,
you are grasping my maturity,
that mixture of stupor and experience,
this unknown horizon of fear and certainty,
this relentless faith on my questionable strength.

As you can see, it is serious,
extremely more serious.
Because with these or different words,
I mean to say you are not only,
the dearest girl you are,
but also the splendid and cautious* women that I love and have loved.

Because thanks to you E, I have understood,
(you’d say it was about time, and with reason),
that love, is a beautiful and generous bay, that lightens and darkens as life goes by,
a bay where ships arrive and break away,
they arrive with blossoms and presages,
and they part with krakens and storm clouds.
A beautiful and generous bay where ships set down and then leave,

But E, you, please don’t leave.

I ask for strength
to begin again
without remembering wounds
inflicted by barbed remarks
allegedly untainted
not meant to inflame

but my heart believes intention
is the truth that presages
any discerning interaction
words, the concrete bridge
to a reality from which
the soul cannot hide.

A Grecian statue I am, a confined creation; a harbinger, a shouter of biblical presages. Only here to tell of God's word, of Christ's love offered to voices silenced.

To the rich, poor, sick, down-and-out;
To boys, men, women, children-
Girls.

None pen nor pencil or writing tool needed, for the Lord's blood was
Shed for all the lost and
Mistreated,

Tis Satan was defeated.

Christ gave up the holy-ghost,
As thus his soul left that cross,
Buried, Rose again the third
Day; for God succeeded,
The devil lost.

Mine time is almost up now,
For mine job is almost done;
Soon I'll go meet mine savior,
As I prayest that Jesus Christ
Wilt be the one.

The one who thou shalt call out
To, for tis Jesus Christ that saves,
The way, the truth, the life;

The water that never runs dry,
The way to heaven up past the sky,
The bread of life that wilt make thee full,
The son of God who died for me,

The son of God who died for you......

© Brandon nagley
© Lonesome poets poetry
© Prophetic poetry

Three poplars grow along the river bank,
Three poplars reflected in the current,
Past is paint and the future is a blank
Canvas framed with poplar wood recurrent,
Reeds sway silently,
Tree trunks climb crooked,
Colors blur like smoky clouds unfurling
Colors blurring cloudy smoke rings spread
Across a pastel sky. Autumnal swirl
in kingly golden glow—presages:
Brush be quick / the sun dips / the light changes
Capture it before it rearranges!

O! For my love's photography possible
My perspective it to the dumb presages
The article pitch, with his adjunct pleasure
Thou shalt strangely craft cutting, and put.

And I see a concentrated grow gently
Sway'st the bounteous largess given thee, with
Rich in the rich in it thee resort unappreciated
Only care, and leap'd powerful might the.

Let this huge stage presenteth meeting, blessing
Every thing, being used, which bounteous
Largess given admiring praise that keeps
You agree to maturity, since first.

That other give, but thou, and there lives upon
My mind; a friend, Eastman to me was thine,
How with of many nymphs in the dregs of
Goodness, oppress'd, and I thy love, even.

All Joe king aside

Humor iz vital stove topface
component to survive the cares
and concerns oven uncertain
culinary future, that presages

over heating of this planet
concomitant with extinction
per the human race. Many
gauges point toward an
irrevocable debacle where

the evolutionary timer seems
to tick, head, and (hmm…
more like barreling) toward
becoming a cooked goose.

An ear splitting ruth less
buzzer will be an impossible
mission to clap quiet while
steam issues out the airwaves

from stymied paunchiest pilot
light buck kit brigade. If and/
or when such a fiery fate befalls
this arrogantly bombastic,

conceitedly egoistic, forlorn,
grievously hapless, irascibly
jangling, kookily middling
luddite, he hopes his demise

will be brutish, short and nasty
while surviving foreign legion
members of locked humanity
hob bull along the blitzed
boulevard of broken dreams.

Whatever provokes a maniacal
person to laugh as the world
turns tumultuously affecting
a surreal ambience akin to the
edge of night (especially with

dark shadows) may appear
wantonly vapid unspooling
threnodies sotto voce.
Rational quartermasters
promulgated outlandish no mans land.

Knowledge jackknifed ideal
humane gentility. Febrile earth
lings’ dragnet cleaved bona fide
actualization. What other option

available to tinker, tailor, soldier
spy except to chuckle at the folly
gingerly loosened upon the terra firmae?
Nothing short of an uproarious chortle

would be prescribed from doctor
demento to ameliorate the tightly
wound tension arising from local

or global aggression arising from
bullies calling their bluff fed goat
bluster, division by the zero
sum game of thrones. Thus,

this mechanically nonsensical,
pop sic cull *** purée to throw
fire retardant on the conflict frission
intonating loopy outré playfulness

with words hoop ping quadratic
equations totally add further
meaninglessness. Hence **** friend,
aye axe hew, how does humor get decided?

Laughter versus humor All Joe king aside.
Jest parody offers funny types of humor.
Seriously folks. What spurs this laughter?
Repression of natural mandated libidinal
kickstarter jammed in high gear feeds

e-z dropsy clodhoppers bursts of hyena
sounding eruptions! The cervical contractions
puffed up like jiffy pop laced pompadour,
increased with greater frequency and

intensity asthma due date approached
(which felt like violent shaking of the
biological ***** re: me), especially
prominent when “mother” gracefully
described Arabesque. She gravitated

to modus operandi sans professional
ballet dancer like a duck would drake
to water, and salve and duff heat whirled
pool ache kin to preparation H - soothing

the pain in the *** of hemorrhoids. Hours
elapsed with incessant stretching (while
in a standing pose) blithely drawing one leg
or the other up against those roseate ****** cheeks.

Even when quite progressed along
the family way with yours truly, thy
status while in utero where ******
stretched akin to a taut rubber band

near ready tubby (or knot tibia) snapped,
like ballet slippers suspending balanced
***** of toes pointed to maximum flexion,
or inflated balloon ready to pop beyond
capacity or, bulged in utero, she maintained

a fanatic, maniacal, and slavish veneration
asper the rigorous being a choreographed
top notch ballerina. This passion to bend
body electric defied laws of fig newton’s,

finagled parallel dimensions, and hugged
joie de vivre limbs maintaining nonchalant
passion recognized talent unbridled versatility
waiving youngest attaining burlesque,

Churrigueresque dramatic elegiac fluidity
transformed thine mama into a holographic,
kaleidoscopic, and opportunistic piquant
rondelet thru vitality, whimsicality, and zealotry.

Gracefulness hove spectators to behold defiance
asper flexibility of muscles in conjunction with
defiance of physics. Once immersed in a classical
routine, thee supple rubbery form assumed

by thine mother ******* focused klieg lights
upon wondrous kinetic magic. An audience
member vicariously experienced dalliance
of some mind-numbing narcotic minus
the addiction. Stupefaction trans fixed gaze

upon the dynamic parameters of space
and time to present an enchanting move
able feast replete with operatic poetry,
quixotic romanticism, and sculpturesque

statuesque totemic union verging on affects
cast by a singular whirling dervish. A
heightened indoctrination of jubilation
radiated from every cell of this artiste

in motion. Pirouettes cast grotesque dark
shadows and etched the faux edge of
night scenario with gigantesque ghoulish
phantasmagoric veterans of many tragic-

comic composers long since vetted into
the storied ballroom of fame. No surprise
then that when mine exit from the berth
canal of stage nom de plume Harriet Harris

witnessed by a full house, my denouement
propelled from the tender vittles tulip ruffled
private naughty bits induced balletic movements.
Meanwhile me mum (real name christened Chrys

Anne Thumb) busily intensely engrossed herself
(terrifically totally tubularly) within whose inter
twined arms and legs that emulated an analogy
to a pretzel held me snug as a bug in rug. A pause

(which many interpreted to initiate an applause)
sprung a contagion of hand clapping that drowned
out the impetus signifying the first breath of
this wordsmith. Only as the slap happy flesh

diminished did ardent hard fans of a triumphant
fancy feast and foot loose Gangnam style winged
goddess take stock of the starlit cradling a newborn.
Frightful faces and peculiar sounds appeared scary.

Thence spurred via submit able exertion climaxing
with a riveting acrobatic contortion (essentially
forcing this now grown baby boomer former chap -
lain cocooned for nine months within the womb),

thyself made headway into an alien world, whereat
this full term new born did provide his own wailing
lyrics (even at that tender infant hood, an iconoclastic
antiestablishmentarian). This now grown baby boomer

chap lain cocooned for nine months within the womb,
who sought nothing more nor less than that which
necessitates being swaddled, pampered, mollycoddled,
cuddled, bundled, and held close to the *****. As

grown middle-aged madman (albeit married to
X-Files rabid fan) still craves, desires, and gloms
toward picturesque pairs of pendulous pliant plump prized
politically incorrect breastworks.

I thought I had finally found my love
But it turns out it was a fallacy
We fit together fit like hand and glove
But It was not reality
I was truly at ease
You told me you had no feeling
But then she behaved like a tease
You both knew I would have trouble dealing
But I found out too soon
Before you could have her truly cheat
She was my boon
But looks like I was beat
To her love
She made me feel as if all was fine
But now I am sick of
You, took what was mine
No not her
Because I feel emptiness
No what you took along with her
Was the happiness
That I felt with her alone
You told her you didn’t want to break up our relationship
But you did this, and now you cannot atone
For now I cannot pursue a friendship
For you have done what you cannot change
You destroyed a love of over three years
So many people find it strange
But soon you will receive jeers
For you may be new and shiny
But I have been here for her troubles
Let us see if you can stay for as many
For there are things she has not brought to the front of your mind
And those I will leave for her to tell you
But she may not be so kind
As to be forward with you
But just know no man or woman has done as I’ve done
None of them have made it past a year
Many of her friends by who you will be shun
Have known me longer than one measly year
You have not even known her for that little amount time
You may be “mature” and have a vehicle and who knows how much money you make
I may have to wait in line
But I will wait as long as it takes
Because I love her no matter what she shows
You have no ******* idea how much I care
But you will never know how much you don’t know
She will never be out of my hair
But I know that one day it may not be today, nor tomorrow, or for weeks, months, or years
She will come back to me
For she cannot hide her tears
Because I know she is crying just as much as me
She was my reason for being and you took her heart
You took my reason
I have been told I have no heart
But that is because I have had no reason
To be sad
I have witnessed things with my eyes
I have been abused by my dad
I have seen the light leave a man as he dies
You have no clue
What I know
Or how much I knew
But now you much reap the seeds you sew
And I guess what may not bother you at all
But you have caused the love of my life to leave me
And I resent you will my all
Now I will be
Not better, not fine, not even okay
For you have destroyed me
And I will be the first to say hey
You are the ***** who ruined my reason to be
And now I am at the brim
I am not being funny
I had even proposed to her
I was trying to get the money
To buy her the ring she deserved
But by destroying our relationship
I feel as if revenge is best served
Cold
For I left her years ago
And I was so bold
As to not let her go
Her friends hated me
They sent me hate messages
So many that I could not see
They were all filled with presages
Many of them said “I hope the the same thing happens to you”
But instead of her leaving to another place
She instead left to you
And even though I gave chase
You were the winner
She has chosen you as his new match
Though I may be only a beginner
You still will not catch
Up to how much we have been through
There is no amount of time that can add up to how many times I have been called upon
For how many times I was there when she was blue
When she felt as if she had no reason to go on
You cannot possibly understand
How much I love the girl
How many times she has squeezed my hand
Because she felt too bashful
To express her feelings to anyone besides me
While I was there for as much as I could
I must confess that I was not the only person who could see
Especially when I was not making good
Choices that contributed towards my own destruction
Though I have made terrible choices in life I believed I had made one good one
Alas it was only a reduction
And changed who I was as a person

A tremble in the stillness
Disturbs the reflecting glows
Presages a message from the gently
   disturbed surface,There is comedy in the tragic.
There is dignity in human shame.
There is irony in mundane normality.
We just have to find it.
That's how we'll make it through
A peaceful song upon my life.

I thought I had finally found my love
But it turns out it was a fallacy
We fit together fit like hand and glove
But It was not reality
I was truly at ease
You told me you had no feeling
But then she behaved like a tease
You both knew I would have trouble dealing
But I found out too soon
Before you could have her truly cheat
She was my boon
But looks like I was beat
To her love
She made me feel as if all was fine
But now I am sick of
You, took what was mine
No not her
Because I feel emptiness
No what you took along with her
Was the happiness
That I felt with her alone
You told her you didn’t want to break up our relationship
But you did this, and now you cannot atone
For now I cannot pursue a friendship
For you have done what you cannot change
You destroyed a love of over three years
So many people find it strange
But soon you will receive jeers
For you may be new and shiny
But I have been here for her troubles
Let us see if you can stay for as many
For there are things she has not brought to the front of your mind
And those I will leave for her to tell you
But she may not be so kind
As to be forward with you
But just know no man or woman has done as I’ve done
None of them have made it past a year
Many of her friends by who you will be shun
Have known me longer than one measly year
You have not even known her for that little amount time
You may be “mature” and have a vehicle and who knows how much money you make
I may have to wait in line
But I will wait as long as it takes
Because I love her no matter what she shows
You have no ******* idea how much I care
But you will never know how much you don’t know
She will never be out of my hair
But I know that one day it may not be today, nor tomorrow, or for weeks, months, or years
She will come back to me
For she cannot hide her tears
Because I know she is crying just as much as me
She was my reason for being and you took her heart
You took my reason
I have been told I have no heart
But that is because I have had no reason
To be sad
I have witnessed things with my eyes
I have been abused by my dad
I have seen the light leave a man as he dies
You have no clue
What I know
Or how much I knew
But now you much reap the seeds you sew
And I guess what may not bother you at all
But you have caused the love of my life to leave me
And I resent you will my all
Now I will be
Not better, not fine, not even okay
For you have destroyed me
And I will be the first to say hey
You are the ***** who ruined my reason to be
And now I am at the brim
I am not being funny
I had even proposed to her
I was trying to get the money
To buy her the ring she deserved
But by destroying our relationship
I feel as if revenge is best served
Cold
For I left her years ago
And I was so bold
As to not let her go
Her friends hated me
They sent me hate messages
So many that I could not see
They were all filled with presages
Many of them said “I hope the the same thing happens to you”
But instead of her leaving to another place
She instead left to you
And even though I gave chase
You were the winner
She has chosen you as his new match
Though I may be only a beginner
You still will not catch
Up to how much we have been through
There is no amount of time that can add up to how many times I have been called upon
For how many times I was there when she was blue
When she felt as if she had no reason to go on
You cannot possibly understand
How much I love the girl
How many times she has squeezed my hand
Because she felt too bashful
To express her feelings to anyone besides me
While I was there for as much as I could
I must confess that I was not the only person who could see
Especially when I was not making good
Choices that contributed towards my own destruction
Though I have made terrible choices in life I believed I had made one good one
Alas it was only a reduction
And changed who I was as a person

Tranquility rules, the cool air is still:
spellbound, I look and drink my fill,
as morning awakening fills the air.
With my eyes opened wide, I stare
at pleasures offered and given free,
which bounteous Nature awards me!

The Meadowlark, soaring happily
sings her song of joy.  A rhapsody
to serenade her fledglings, snug below,
whilst the rising sun, with golden glow,
urges the stirring morning breeze,
to tease awake the dormant trees.

Two Mourning Doves, bill and coo,
planning their day and what they’ll do.
Cattle lowing in the meadow afar,
bid farewell to the last morning star.
A skein of geese honk high overhead,
as towards the north, they swiftly head.

Whilst a Red Cardinal proudly prances
in and out of the evergreen branches,
entertaining his mate, brooding eggs,
a lone Grey Heron on stilt-like legs,
seeks a snack in the riverside reeds,
unaware a frog hides in nearby weeds!

Sheep bleat as the shepherd’s dog,
presages their coming out of the fog.
The Carrion Crow, with raucous cry,
warns a *****, furtively passes by.
Ducks on the pond, splash and dive,
in grand celebration, of being alive.

The sun advises, the hour grows late,
as does a Curlew to its watching mate.
But I am most reluctant to depart,
and leave these scenes close to my heart.
So great is the reward, that surrounds,
when I behold the beauty that abounds!

Rhymer.  April 29th, 2018.

clangorously declaring emergency, fate grimly heckles,
implies jackknifed life, killing my natural optimism,
positivism quashed, re: sort to undertake vitality,
wreckage xing yawping, zigzagging, alms breeching
charily. death embraced for grave happenstance,
indigent jarring kingdom, losing my native ordinary pleasure,
quivering ringing, singularly tripping uppermost volume
while Xeroxing yellowing zone, albatross blithely crushing desire
effecting fun, grippe holding impossible, Jackhammer
keeps lamentably mashing nasty oppressive pierced quaking,
reducing sensibility to utterly voiced worthlessness,
x-rays yield zero ambition boosting capacity driving
existence, future gloomy heralds iffy joie de vivre, killing
lousy male negative outlook presages quintessential
rage spilling thru useless voiceless wretched xiphoid zeal.

Earth (Pangaea)

Pangaea heaved and shifted
beneath the fire-storm sky.
Colliding plates and spewing mountains
shook, roared and thundered
under the brutal chaos
of torrential cataclysms.

In time she yielded her ire
to millennia of pacific rains -
her severed crust
set adrift across the oceans
like gigantic earthen rafts.

Jungles sprang up and terrible lizards
came, grazed and left their bones.
Forests, grains and multifarious beasts
grew and perished in accord
with their past and future destinies.

So here we are - earthbound,
tossed from our mothers' wombs -
fated to live and breed
by the grace of miracles
far beyond our ken.

Beloved mother Gaia,
from whose dust we are raised,
nurture and sustain us
and sing us to our mortal sleep.

2. Air

Air - earth's miracle brew of
     oxygen, nitrogen and all the rest
          meted out in perfect harmony.

Air - silent and still on a moonlit night -
     driver of sheeted rain on window panes -
          and winds that shake the trembling aspens.

Air - author of land and ocean squalls -
     bringer of that ominous pallor
          that presages a tornado's furor

Air - invisible aerial highway
     for majestic eagles and turbo-jets -
         medium of rhetoric and symphonies.

Air – window to the cosmos
      and our fragile life–giving broth -
          unwitting conveyer of toxic alchemy.

Keep watch my sisters and brothers:
     the air we breathe is what we make it
          or rather what we let it be.

3. Water

Water like a capricious deity
     wanders through time and topography -
     cherished and cursed for
     what it gives and what it takes away.

Gentle rains and strident gales
     sculpt rivers and streams
     through forests and plains
     bound for union with the open sea.

Diurnal tides surge and wane
     at the whim of the charismatic moon.
     Ice mountains advance and retreat;
     rock-strewns moraines left in their wake.

Turbulent currents
     soar over jagged cataracts,
     spraying pastel prisms
     across the misted valleys.

Beneath our all too fragile skins,
     secret sanguine rivers navigate
     our veins and arteries
     bathing organs, limbs and sensors
     with curative balm and sustenance.

Wellspring of all elements,
     fill our daily ladles
     and grant us the will and empathy
     to bequeath the same to our progeny.

4. Fire

Two hundred million years ago
our Paleolithic cousins
seized branches from a burning forest
and stepped into a bold new world.

By the glow of fire-lit caves,
and the scent of searing venison,
they gathered wits and tools
to craft shelters and weaponry.

Their children's children would design
forges and furnaces, factories
and build engines that run on fire.

But their anxious siblings in despair
snatched lightning from the sky
and twisted by fits of anger pride
made also muskets, missiles, bombs
and nuclear Armageddons.

Vulcan, god of nobler flames
open our blood-stained eyes
and show us the means
to stay our arson lust and
abide by the light of reason.

*Revised and integrated version, December, 2015

Did you know love?  Was it be like the early morning
Clear and bright in early summer say. One day you
Knew life was good and it was so.  At noon it was a
Pouring forth, the cup that over-floweth.  A drought of
Sufficiency of day and then comes the evening with all
It's splendor and the Venus star comes forth and all is
Memory that you must let go of as if it never was.  And
Purple sorrow presages the night and some like me fight
Against the dying of the ligtht but in the  end one  let's go.


Remembering Nepenthe
Must return to the great Lethe .where forgetfulness  reigns.
That you know you have loved all and completely is your
Peace for there is no better  here or hereafter. What  iswill it's
End is but the necessity that it should be born again that a
New child of wonder always give praise unto the Lord.

SUNRISE

The eoan skies of early morning have always
captivated me, their milky blue soft presence
presages hope of another day. Stars that were
there just moments ago have disappeared. The
sun will ascend slowly. There is a sunrise in every
life. For most, it is fraught with keen anticipation
of good and happy times, a precusor of future
fruitful endeavors. But these propitious moments
are not shared by everyone. On earth, sunrises
never come to millions and millions of unborn beings.
Many call abortion a woman's productive right. I call
it ******. Yes, there are overriding reasons to take
a human life:  ****, ******, an imminent threat to a
mother's life. But never should it be used as a
convenient form of contraception, though, of course,
it is. A malady of many. Love is the motif of sunrises.
Loving is the message a sunrise brings as it continues
into day. Soon the sunrise will disappear as did the
stars, but its promise will be realized by billions as the
sun climbs higher in what is now a bright, blue sky.


HIGH NOON

High noon is when the sun is directly
above your head. The sun is at the apex
of its ascension. A man's high noon is
the precious period when he is most
promising and productive, the center cut,
as it were, of his adult life. His children
are growing and learning. His marriage
has found equilibrium.. His worries are
at low ebb. He is at the golden time of his
life, just as the sun shines brightest at high
noon. He is reaching stars that are not yet
in the sky. His is one of satifaction and
self-pride. Enjoy it he should. He has
earned his high noon.


SUNSET

Sunset is when the sun is falling from
the sky. For a man, it can be a time of
retrospection, a time to evaluate one's
life, one's successes and defeats. It can
be a time of an intimacy unlike that of
much earlier years, a close, quiet time
with the one he has loved for a lifetime.
The pain of sorrows and sufferings of
the now distant past have abated. He is
left in the glow of his yearnings and
earnings. He would wish to apologize
for all his mistakes and misgivings, but
he also deserves to be proud of his
many good deeds and generosities.
His is a time before night falls. His
sunset is a time for silent appreciation,
and yes, applause.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks