Wednesday, March 08, 2023

Three New Poem Drafts


I am shadow;
I am wind;
I am firelights that from the skies descend.

I felt my way through spider's webs;
the spider's threads were woven fine;
the weaving once was yet unfrayed,
and you were mine.

I have rested,
wandered through a dream,
fought dark sorrows beside a lonely stream,

yet here I am,
and I am here with you;
shadows blow around me,
bold and ever new.

Alien Space Station

They stand, proud gates at the edge of the sea,
in kingly splendor in unremembered realms,
which chieftains once served with humble hands;
then they sailed across the oceans of the stars
in dark adventures time does not record.

They have stood, immersed in a sea of dreaming
as rays of light continue their stately drone
for ages none have counted, beyond all tale,
beyond the final years of the sciences that built them,
beyond the peoples who raised their forms;

they stand alone,
the remnants of fantastic means and will,
deaf and dumb and blind, and all alone,
last sentries of a strange nation,
ruining down with the frictions of time.

The Green of Tree

The green of tree is fair and bright,
illumined with an inner light,
a balm to dull and weary sight,
and sharp as blade.

The green of tree is clear and clean,
for eye like water drinks all green
and tastes the sweetness of a sheen
that will not fade.

The roses, I know, are growing here.
The times are but a shadow;
in every blossom hopes appear
amidst a sullen sorrow.
Now grasp the thorns; the pain is dear
or else all life is hollow.

The green of tree is fair and fine
and through the sky is intertwined;
the eye may yet a heaven find
where branches play.