January 17, 2011 “winter’s reign”
“winter’s reign”
*
cold gray
bleeds from a lurid sky
trickling
over boney skeletons of black trees
standing
in murky pools of dead earth
and winter’s reign
tlh 1/17/11
January 12, 2012 “winter” Haiku
“winter” Haiku
howling wind spits snow
gnawing at hard frozen bones
ravenous winter
tlh 1/12/12
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December 30, 2011 “new day”
“new day”
let the dying year pass
give no more thought
to its bitterness and pain
it cannot be relived
only remembered
let go its scarred memories like tears
weeping away from eyes of the hopeful
to the promise of a new day
tlh 12/30/11
December 25, 2011 “Christmas”
“Christmas”
***
Footsteps trodden upon new fallen snow
make no sound at all
not a whisper in the hush
that blankets tree and field
mountain and valley
hamlet and home
as midnight gates swing silently open
candlelit window sills cast a faint glow on downy paths
lighting the way for Christmas
tlh 12/25/11
December 11, 2011 “star-crossed”
“star-crossed”
+
today I chased the westering sun
to see him set once more
in a blazing sky and watch him race
to rise on a distant shore
to warm a face in twilight waiting
as he ascends the dawning day
to shed his light on a star-crossed lover
and drive the shadows away
but the racing sun outraced me
and slipped silently out of sight
to leave me in the lonesome shadows
of a star-crossed silent night
tlh 12/11/11
December 7, 2011 “freedom”
“freedom”
~~~~~~~
the river is up
not angry yet
but swelling as it flows
beneath a pouring rain
through a moonless night
groping along its banks
feeling with watery fingers
for a weakness
a way out
scratching
clawing at the edges of roads
and fields
at the foundations of houses
and barns
searching for an escape
on the verge of havoc
of destruction
rising to flood
and a chance at freedom
tlh 12/7/11
November 20, 2011 “frost”
“frost”
_
rooftop and fence
fodder shocks and haystacks
well house and chicken coop
-
a weathered barn,
the front half of a broke down red tractor
lolling crookedly from its shadowy maw
-
a rusted out old truck
held fast in its place by
tangled generations of
dormant honeysuckle vines
and a concertina of blackberry thorns
-
wintering grass like a carpet
gently rolling down to a Sycamore tree
its whitewashed medusan limbs
stark against an orange-tinted azure sky
-
all lay frozen
beneath a thick blanket
of sparkling crystalline frost
a landscape in etched glass
-
cold morning breaks silent and still
save for the slow swirl of the grayish river
slipping stiffly between its frosted banks
releasing whispering white ghosts of fog
to lightly dance into the frigid air
-
tlh 11/19/11
November 13, 2011 ” old mountains”
“old mountains”
*
the mountains of my home are old
as old as the earth
aged hard faces wearing smooth
with crooked spines and withered fingers
no longer reaching toward heaven
but falling back toward hell
deconstructing
shedding majesty for maturity
strength for sagacity
tumbling rivers for trickling streams
granite heights for trembling stones
misty memories lost in gathering fog
carried away by soft breezes
whispering gently in my ears
reminding me of old mountains
and relentless time
tlh 11/13/11
October 21, 2011 “autumn rain”
“autumn rain”
trees under an autumn rain
flowing out from a foggy mountain
in pleated ridges and hollows
shedding their rusting leaves
like flecks of burnt orange and gold
copper toned reflections of the past
and places I remember
when the sun shone bright in a careless blue sky
above the verdant summer of life
when living was easy under the shade of trees
that were there long before my birth
and will remain
long after the last rusting leaf is shed
to another autumn rain
©tlh 10/21/11
photo by tlh
September 17, 2011 “a thought on clouds”
“a thought on clouds”
*
clouds
crowded upon the firmament
of an angry sky
a herd of fat gray beasts
rank upon rank
vying for position
dark and dismal
somber and severe
sagging, heavy bellies
pregnant with water of life
travailing in labor
giving birth to a deluge…
precious rain is born unto the earth
some from violent storms
some from peaceful showers
some for rivers and the sea
some for flowers and fields
some for floods
some for the thirsty
or puddles or birdbaths
some to wash a dusty traveler
or blood from a battlefield
or tears
some to dance or sing
or make love in
some for rainbows
and snowmen
some to tickle the faces of fascinated children
then out comes the sun
and all return whence they came
to again become
clouds
©tlh 9/17/2011
September 10, 2011 “transition”
“transition”
arid summer rides
parched whirlwinds into September
as clouds of dusty red clay settle
under a cloudless sky
on yellowed tobacco leaves sweltering
in thirsty furrows of farmers’ fields
upon the backs of black cattle sweating
belly deep in a muddy pond
their wet black tails swishing
swatting at swarms of harrowing flies
the cavalier sun sailing
across the clear blue sea above
his infernal eye blazing
a golden path for autumn
©tlh 9/10/2011
August 28, 2011 “a dozen nails in a coffin”
“a dozen nails in a coffin”
hope
stolen by indifference
happiness
forfeited to gratification
truth
to ambiguity
kindness
to avarice
possibilities
given to doubt
decision
to ambivalence
knowledge
sacrificed for convenience
triumphs
swallowed by fear
tomorrows
bartered by yesterdays
love
lost in pride
life
exchanged for existence
somethingness
faded to nothingness
nothingness
is death
©tlh 8/28/11
August 14, 2011 “south of summer”
“south of summer”
skulking stray dog days
loitering in the back yard of summer
keeping autumn at bay on the porch
hold a slippery sweaty grip on the south
withered green leaves
wrinkled damp clothes
hang from limbs of thirsty trees and people
like limp dishrags boiling
in the oily evening heat
beneath tall condescending columns
of rainless clouds climbing
up a pale sky roiling
in shades of pink
east of the setting sun
over the sweltering horizon
an August moon casts his milky gaze
on the sloomy glow of lightening bugs
slow dancing to the jar fly’s gravelly whirr
and the tinkling of ice in glasses of tea
sweet relief in a sultry gloaming haze
©tlh 8/14/11
August 3, 2011 “on watching an August moonset”
August 3, 2011 “on watching an August moonset”
*
The yellow fingernail of a crescent moon
scratches down the spine of a sultry purple sky
towards midnight.
*
©tlh 8/2/11
August 2, 2011 “wildflower”
August 2, 2011 “wildflower”
~~~~~~~~~~~
a wildflower in a rose garden grows
on a golden ribbon of sunshine
neath the shadows
by roots and black earth
beyond the white teeth of smiling wickets
out of reach
hidden from the pruning hands of a jealous gardener
behind the painted points of patrolling pickets
marching in rigid formation
a careful syncopation of shadow and light
shadow and light
guarding the beloved roses
from eyers eying and spyers spying
admirers admiring roses
~
the gardener swells with pride
at the blossoms blooming wide
filling the air with a fragrance of roses
seducing the noses
of passing passersby
gazing with enamored eye
at the roses
all the beautiful roses
~
but the wildflower
the tiny wildflower stands alone
perfectly petaled
pale purple little wildflower
singular beauty among beauties
as lovely in the mountain
as by the shore of the sea
or in the cleft of a rock
upon a grassy lea
~
the wildflower
needs not the nurturing hand of the gardener
nor the garden’s fertile soil
no trimming or clipping
no trellis to climb
or picket guard
or worrisome toil of any kind
~
the wildflower goes and grows where it will
how it will as it pleases for it pleases
to grow and its beauty to show
in a rose garden
©tlh 8/2/11
June 22, 2011 “soup on sunday afternoon”
“soup on sunday afternoon”
________________________________
she
sits at the table in a dream
sleepy-eyed
snugly wrapped
against winter’s brrrrs
her face
behind a veil of steam
rising from a bowl of hot soup
he
sits opposite her with a gleam
satisfied
night-capped
his eyes steady on hers
his face
peers through her veil at a dream
as he asks if she’d like some more soup
she
sighs
and grins a knowing sheepish grin
he
sighs
and smiles a lazy loving smile
she
has more of his soup
he
has more of her
_________________________________
©tlh 6/22/11
June 19, 2011 “Virginia dreams…”
“Virginia dreams…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I walked into the midst of a river
to feel the cleansing water flow
to lay upon it my pain
to let it take my fear
a smothering blanket of sorrow
~
to cast upon its waters
what haunts my darkening soul
hidden prides and disappointments
unforgiven sins
that have taken a telling toll
~
to somehow loose the stains
that have tarnished me too long
the stigmata and bruises
and like stones let them sink
to the bottom where they belong
~
I lingered in the sparkling waters
in the wash of a relentless stream
I felt the water coursing
as I looked below the swirling surface
I knew it was only a dream
~
for the longer I stood in the current
the more I saw what I did not wish to see
I felt only a bone-chilling cold
for the man I saw in reflections
was the same man who walked in with me
~
when you find yourself standing by the water
if you think of me then you will know
in a sparkle, a splash, or a swirl
I gave myself freely to the river
and forever ride on the ebb and the flow
©tlh 6/19/11
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June 15, 2011 “grave circumstances”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“grave circumstances”
*
going down to rise no more
time is at hand
scratching at the back door
just as well not at the front
not guest nor visitor
but a thief
the chariot swinging low
on the horizon of a setting sun
my course nearly finished
and my race run
sinking slow
the chariot low
and fiery red
green grass will be my cover
cold black earth my bed
weeping silence
trickles through ancient stones
slowly chilling mortal bones
sounds of tramping hooves
the fading rumble of chariot wheels
the acrid breath of a pale horse
with Hell snapping at its heels
I have no angel
and the horseman is on the hunt
©tlh 6/15/11
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June 9, 2011 “honeysuckle”
“honeysuckle”
**
slipping through green mountains
the silvery ribbon glides
like living smoke
misty morning softly rides
upon scintillating water
a thousand bubbling voices
trickling, tickling together
in cacophonous harmony
each singing its part
and part upon part
each instrument in perfect time
with the cooling flow
of a deepening rhyme
all to play the silent symphony
of the sleepy-eyed river
soothing past me
greeting the long rays
of golden sun reflection
the shimmering mirror
shows my lazy insurrection
bathed in sweet fragrances
of bluegrass
and yellow flowers
gently
as if the gods were making breakfast
a single drop of nectar falls upon my lips
my eyes close
the music plays
I taste the honeysuckle
©tlh 6/9/11
May 29, 2011 “little gods”
“little gods”
_____
the liars and criers
cross their fingers
as they weep the currency
of carefully counted tears
into the tin cups
of broke down beggars
or brokenhearted lovers
just the same
it’s all a game
of who’s to blame
as the moment nears
when the truth appears
_____
condescenders and pretenders
patronizing from their ivory towers
hidden in bowers
of plenitudes, attitudes
and platitudes
self-congratulations and adulations
irreproachable and unapproachable
why?…
because they say so
who am I to question the unquestionable
_____
the self-appointed gods of piety
and pompous propriety
who surround themselves with themselves
in other clothes
offering themselves on the altar of repose
with no room on their garments
to pin another rose
_____
all the while
hearts and men lie bleeding
as lives and loves die needing
to be
seen
by unseeing eyes
heard
by unhearing ears
washed
by uncounted tears
of little gods
created from their own conceit
while brokenhearted beggars
worship and dine at their feet
they exasperate and pontificate
over which wine is best served with the meat
©tlh 5/29/11
May 25, 2011 “belle of the ball”
“belle of the ball”
*
the sun smiled at me today
a flash of reflection
in a mirror on the wall
only a wink
just a blink
after a storm,that was all
it took me by surprise
it dried my rainy eyes
and made me see
from the shadows
beneath the clouds
a single face
among the crowds
the cramped places
and the blank spaces
between wasted chances
when the music plays
but no one dances
then suddenly
in the mirror
blinding sunshine
flashes on a wall
or in a dream
either way
I was dancing a waltz
with the belle of the ball
©tlh 5/25/11
May 15, 2011 “ink stains”
“ink stains”
a broken heart weeps sadness into a soul
a pen bleeds tears onto a page
the black ink stains
of forgotten promises
discarded dreams
and lost love
flow in undulating swirls and curls
fluid shadows
crossing and crisscrossing
as taciturn thoughts form wounded words
at the trembling tips of a poet’s fingers
the untouched white field
laid bare to the sanguinary point
suffers in sacrificial silence
save the slow whispering scratch
of a weeping pen
scribing the mournful tears
of a drowning soul
©tlh 5/15/11
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May 14, 2011 “stormy weather”
“stormy weather”
*
come and stand with me
hold hands with me
on that mountain top yonder
above this stormy weather
the lightning
the rain
and the thunder
where the sky is clear
where the air is cool
and we can breathe
and feel the sun
where the only wind
is a gentle breeze
and the only sound
is the rustling leaves
and our heartbeats
far above the darkened clouds
and the world that lies below
the chaos and the pain
we know so well
the heartache
they don’t see
the sadness
we won’t tell
stand with me
hold hands with me
and don’t let go
trust in me
I’ll trust in you
side by side
hand in hand
letting the storms fade away
tlh 5/14/11
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April 27, 2011 “the painter”
“the painter”
***
if I were
an artist with brushes and paint
and a canvas of white
if I knew
how to mix the colors
to certain perfect shades
if I were
skilled in all the strokes
and techniques
of drawing the lines and curves
that lead the eye
to the image in my artist’s mind
I would
paint a masterpiece
from a picture of you
alas
my hand
was made to fit a pen
not a brush
for the page
not a canvas
I cannot
mix the colors
for the perfect shade of your skin
alabaster tinted with sun-kissed brown
or the subtle shadow under your soft chin
the sun on your face
when you cock your head to the side
for a coy glance in my direction
how could I
draw the silky fineness of your long lashes
fluttering over the deep indigo of your eyes
as you wink in your fashion
how would I
sketch the lines of your loving hands
and long feminine fingers
the arc and bow of your sweet red lips
the perfect fullness of your firm breasts
the gentle lines of the small of your back
the curving shape of your hips
your smooth thighs and calves
the length of your legs
to your ankles
and ten flawless toes
I wish I could
paint you
in perfect shades
with loving strokes
on the canvas of my life
for the world to see
but I am
no painter
only a poet
tlh 4/27/11
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