I look at the afterlife
through rose colored glasses
cause why not
the heaven we wish for
is the heaven we get
and there is no hell
and the love you felt
from your mom and dad
from your wife
when you held your babies
the time the guitar lick
cause the room to hush
then set it on fire
all that is just a whisper
of what you will feel
when you inhale here
They wish to take some time,
if the room is still available,
for words and thoughts
the way left fallow.
Fields undone as last night’s argument.
Each shall return to the place of their beginning.
Manumission of the indentured souls
shall be relieved of their suffering.
Sewing not the ruptured,
sowing not the fields, emptied.
Fields undone as last night’s wrath.
The decisions to be made
will make each aware
of the secrets and courage which
brings justice to the birds
on the verge of the turned earth.
Fields undone as last night’s tears.
All debts are forgiven,
all fields left fallow,
in the year of seven times seven.
As the old year slinks away into the night,
I throw my shoes at its shadow.
Shaking the dusty months from my clothes,
I wear my cap and shirt inside out
So the old minutes and seconds can’t cling
Like a bad smell.
I salt the earth where the previous days
Stretched on and on,
Assuring they will not
Follow me into the new year.
When the New Years Eve bonfire is burning,
I gather the bitter herbs
And walk counter clock wise into the previous moments,
Casting the hated bouquet into the flame
Leaving its acrid taste behind
With the smell of its grief and sorrow.
Only then will I wreath my head with four leaf clovers,
Fill my pockets with new pennies
And my trunks with rabbit’s feet and horseshoes
And walk bravely into the coming year.
Head held high and with cheerful optimism,
I greet the new day.
** an old poem but always a good reminder to leave the past in the past and move into the new year with hope and positive expectations.
I will if you will!
Happy New Year, my friend. May it be filled with wonder and delight.
I wish you and yours all things merry and bright!
The solstice candle holds its flickering flame
feeble against the gloom of the long night.
Moon, cold and dark in the night sky,
clotting the stars in a blot of emptiness.
Moonless and humble, the candle still burns
reflecting its light in hope, incandescent,
withstanding even the deepest cold
and sparking the helpless soul,
undone at the final turn
of the one true axis.
All hearts turn
to the returning light,
second by second, death is overcome
and resurrection is upon us, rising
lighthearted in the new day and grace filled joy
of spring’s eternal desire and grave emptying flame.
its the insistence of grace
the cajoling and prodding
that makes it such a nuisance
it will not let me be
again and again and again
The years ending is tangled in bindweed-
its filamental arms reaching from summer into winter.
Bound by tangles
of bittersweet and honeysuckle-
I feel it deep in my chest,
the bitter and the sweet,
such days of bliss and anger,
frustration and harmony.
I wish I could remove the bad
and leave the good
but it is all too tangled-
the vines interlaced in my ribs,
rising up my throat
to be released each time I open my mouth-
its tangled in thought
all too nimble
all too green
all too restricting –
I sharpen my machete.