Posts Tagged Sadness

Beauty

 

The essence of all is consistent.

What adds difference
and lifts the plain to shining peaks
or reduces it to valleys dark

are qualities.

 

Beauty stands proud

as the mediator that defines mediocrity

and all that is foul and all that inspires

and all that gives life value.

 

It slows our time

and distracts the mind and the eye

and causes the soul to cry

and to laugh and to ponder.

 

If beauty be science

and the grandiosity of knowing.

Or the pause that knowing gives to observation.

And the gentle confusion that then arises.

 

That response we have

to a mere curve

or to a change that’s different.

Or some shift in balance between weights

that has some hidden mathematical rhythm,

or some subtlety that knows

real wisdom and causes us to falter.

 

Some subtle insight that speaks

of an embellishment to our view

and which stands just slightly out of reach.

That soothes our heart

as might the passing glimpse

of a friend who smiles

but who we don’t know.

 

 

, , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Cicadas

 

Hot air cicada song thrum,

constant in the smokey heat.

Peach drips across sweat sticky skin

as orange sun casts long shadows over dying land.

 

I loved you and meant well.

A future once seen cascading like a waterfall,

became a trickle.

 

Birds dip in dusk light to chase fly by nights,

and land burns red in quickly blackening foreboding.

Cicadas still sing though. And I do too.

 

, , , , ,

Leave a comment

Sunny suicide

 

A mild wind in blue sky with sun glinting
off snowy Cretan mountain peaks,
bird song amongst orange groves
ripe with fruit waiting to be picked,

reverberated to a double shotgun blast

as someone blew his brains out

and spread them over the plaster landscape

that was his for too long.

As I wrote mellowed by birdsong,
righteously writing about what was wrong
with no cognisance of what went on
just below my balcony.

A moment came and passed.
And I learned about it from the news.
Written a long way away.

And now when I gaze down,
the birds still sing amongst the oranges.
And the dogs still bark.

 

 

, , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Weep

 
Why’s it weak to weep?
To know the reason to laugh.
To round the circle.

 

, , , ,

Leave a comment

%d bloggers like this: