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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April 19, 2011 “invisible”
“invisible”
*
I am lost
I am no longer
where I once was
where I should be
where I thought I would be
where I could always find me
*
I am faded
a shadow in the waking world
dim and disappearing
wan and waxen
a faint pattern on threadbare cloth
worn thin
*
I am
like warm breath on the cold windows of a dream
vaporous and fleeting
*
I am
ethereal
unseen
without reflection
in the mirrors
in the blue pools
of eyes that will not see me
*
I am
invisible
tlh 4/19/11
April 4, 2011 “early spring rain”
“early spring rain”
*
winter’s remnant
hangs from a lifeless sky
a thick gray veil
over the black trees
sweeping its sad feathery fingers
over the pallid face of melancholy earth
heavy
on the pale cheeks of dour hillsides
the cloud
weeps misty tears of hushed silence
broken only by whispers
of drip-drop-dripping
into dreary puddles
and muffled murmurs
of muted songbirds
silently shifting on their perches
shivering beneath ruffled feathers
as they disappear
behind a shadowy curtain
of cold fog
©tlh 4/4/11
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March 15, 2011 “winter clouds”
“winter clouds”
deep blue lavender clouds
climbing over the horizon
scrambling up the sky
fleeing the fiery red fingers of a setting sun
careering into the distance on a cold March breeze
shape shifting as they fly
losing ipseity
like the fluid face of a frightened mob
escaping the sinking inferno
marching into nothingness
across the ides of spring
blustering past the budding branches
of the pear, the maple, and the dogwood
and in the rush and gush of the gusting
ignoring the chipping chirping lusting
of lovestruck mocking birds and robins
dressed in fluffed, ruffed, feathered coats
clinging to the bare gray limbs of the rattling trees
and with every trill and note
driving the faceless clouds of winter
into the warming night
©tlh 3/15/11
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March 10, 2011 “a movie”
“a movie”
in the middle of the night
deep in a blanket of sleep
where warm dreams play
like a movie
spinning from a reel in my mind
sunshine and rain
oceans and deserts
flying high
sailing on the wings of the wind
far above the world
no ticking clocks
or city blocks
or places to be
or lists
nothing but the silence of the rushing wind
the touch of the warm sun on my face
and you
lifting me to the sky
on your smile
lighter than air
you make me fly
like a rocket
uncatchable
like a soaring eagle
untouchable
around the world
on a beam of light
alternating red blue red blue
your hair
your eyes
your voice is the wind
carrying me to heaven
in the middle of the night
deep in a blanket of sleep
where warm dreams play
like a movie
spinning from a reel in my mind
and you are the star
©tlh 3/10/11
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March 8, 2011 “mountain moment”
“mountain moment”
we stood
together gazing
the valley below us
across the railing
by the side of the road
the worn wood railing
from countless others
who had stood gazing
brushing against the wood
wearing it smooth
the forest stretched out beneath them
verdant, vital
tumbling in folds down to the sea
ageless, rolling eternally, imperceptibly
back down to the sea from whence it came
we stood
hand in hand gazing
breathing in the fragrant air
sweet exhalations
of trees
flowers
grasses
leaves
and tinkling gurgling streams
the breath of the mountain
hot and vigorous on our faces…
and in our ears the sounds
of a million voices
flora and fauna
softly playing on the rising breeze
the song of the mountain
your hand squeezes mine
as I lean to your shoulder
swaying to music more felt than heard
more a state of mind than notes in time
the hot yellow sun
the soothing blue sky
the billowing white clouds
and you
and I
in the warm green sea of the mountain
we stood together
in one perfect, timeless moment
gazing into each others eyes
©tlh 3/8/11
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February 18, 2011 “evening swim”
“evening swim”
hot cinnamon kisses
like candy
sweet
honey dripping
from lips
kissing
my hands on her hips
swaying to the rhythm of
‘Brown Eyed Girl”
back and forth
close dancing
by a blue pool
her eyes
fixed on mine
blue green
as we dance
kissing
hot summer breezes
carry
the fragrance of lilies
and she tastes like cinnamon
as we step into the pool
for an evening swim
©tlh 2/18/11
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February 14, 2011 “the flower”
“the flower”
the sensuous curve of the rose petal
as the flower unfurls like a banner
lover’s standard
she opened her heart
her life
her arms
her soul
to the sun
to the rains and the winds
to harsh reality
to the cool sweet mist of dawning
to the warm morning sun
the alluring fragrance of her blooming
was on the breeze
like the strains of a haunting tune
beckoning me to her
there among the thorns
the troubles of life
so beautiful to my eye
clothed in red
soft
velvet red
just out of reach
not unattainable
the desire to feel the soft petals
of her blossoming love
overwhelming
my fingers daring the thorns
risking the bite
the pain
for the chance of a touch
the possibility to hold her in my hand
a dream
a perfect flower
petals upon my bed
my skin
the taste of her
the sweet aroma of the flower
the nectar of some powerful goddess
dripping as the dew
glistening in the pale light of a new day
a new hope
a new promise
of eternal love
©tlh 2/14/11
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February 2, 2011 “passing storm”
“passing storm”
don’t fear the storm
my love
the dark and looming clouds
the whistling wind
the thundering sky
the crashing lightning
are but for moment
hiding the sun
the blue
and yellow
rainbows
and songbirds singing
only for a moment
don’t cry in the rain
my love
lest the raindrops steal your tears
as the storm passes
and I kiss them not away
©tlh 2/2/11
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January 29, 2011 “woman…Fujisan” seventh in a series
“all dressed up…”
proud proud Fujisan
dressed in flaming red sunset
always beguiling
©tlh 1/29/11
The image is of a woodblock print of Japanese artist Hokusai’s Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji: (#30) Shichiri Beach in Sagami Province
January 26, 2011 “floppy hat”
“floppy hat”
in a dream or a memory
I can’t tell which
maybe it was yesterday
she is silhouetted by the blue-sky sun
in the morning of a warm summer day
a soft breeze smells of the sea and her perfume
and I take a breath
of the scented morning air
I strain to see her smile
a form in the shadow
under that floppy hat she wears
from time to time when the mood strikes
her face hidden in the blinding sun
but my eye can trace
the pleasant line of her neck
to the alluring curve
of her bare shoulder kissed by the sun
my jealous lips
envious of that lucky star
and the breeze
and the perfume
and that floppy hat she wears
from time to time when the mood strikes
©tlh 1/26/11
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January 25, 2011 “simple as that”
*
“simple as that”
*
when the chains fall away
and the blinders
the dust is settled
the slate is cleaned
and stark revelation
is realized
when only one thing
is the only thing
that matters
a single point
is the point
that points the way
when there is no question
that the answer is unquestionable
simplification becomes simple
simply one
only one
answer
there is no
choice
because there is
nothing else
no
other
substitute
direction
voice
thought
vision
breath
touch
fall back
plan B
proxy
kiss
outcome
only a singularity
in a velvet room
with a window
facing eternity…
simple as that
©tlh 1/25/11
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January 23, 2011 “t-iming”
“t-iming”
one heart missed a beat
in silent syncopation
love’s timing lost
©tlh 1/23/11
January 20, 2011 “unwanted”
“unwanted”
where do they go
the dregs
the loveless
undesirables
when hopeless truth
is all they know
when they live at the bottom of a glass
a ditch
or the desolate grave of their own despair
forgotten
alone
unseen
unknown
where do they go…
the unwanted
to find peace
where do we go
©tlh 1/20/11
January 18, 2011 “cold mountain”
(for Sam and Donna)
“cold mountain”
wind driven snow chills
heart-fires warming from within
winter homecoming
©tlh 1/18/11
January 16, 2011 “courage” (post #300)
This marks the 300th post to my little blog; I would never have thought I had 300 things to say. It’s turned out to be mostly poetry, and most of the poems are of the Romantic variety. I certainly never thought I would be writing so much poetry, much less, Love poetry, but here it is… I’m a romantic at heart. Through my experiences with love, and my observances of Lover’s hearts, I found, in reality, Love is a difficult business. At best, Love requires a little bit of luck to be successful, but successful Love is divine, life giving, and affirming. At its worst, Love can be debilitatingly painful. In either case, Love requires…
“courage”
have the courage to be…
the one who does the crazy thing
that takes a chance
a crazy chance
who believes good things can happen
and goes against…
the wind
the grain
the odds
popular opinion
the stars
most of the gods
the one who hopes beyond…
the physical
the literal
the tangible
the knowable
the unknowable
the one that dares
the rapids of disappointment
to ride the river of a dream
the one who goes out on a limb
throws caution to the wind
hangs on til the end
that doesn’t see
too good to be true
but too good to be untrue
the one that stands
up in a crowd
out in the cold
for the right
not the right now
the one who has courage
not to doubt love
or be without love
but to trust love
and let love
be everything
©tlh 1/16/11
January 14, 2011 “words of a song”
“words of a song”
your words, visions
without hearing…
in my mind
as your mouth forms them…
speaking
urging me to hear
with muted ears,
but unable
all my senses
captured
by your lips
enraptured
by fluid movements of living sculpture
in rhythm with vibrations
erupting through my chest
as my heart dances to the sweet music
of your song
©tlh 1/14/11
January 11, 2011 “Siren Boat”
“Siren Boat”
He heard the call of the Siren’s song
from far across the sea.
Upon the waves, the misty waves
rode the sweetest melody
his ears had ever heard,
and she whispered every word.
His heart was full of the Siren’s song,
she sang it every day
across the waves, the rolling waves,
“Come to me and stay…
come to me and be my own,
and leave your mountain home.”
“I have no way to cross the sea,
no boat or vessel fast,
to sail upon the waves, the deep blue waves,
and come to you at last…
to come and be your own,
to leave the mountains I have known.”
“Oh, there is a way to cross the sea,
to ride the ocean tide,
to travel the waves, the rocking waves,
and be here by my side…
build a boat if your love is mine,
if your love is yar and fine.”
His heart was hers though he knew not how
she drew it with her Siren tune,
from across the waves, the rising waves,
from setting sun to waning moon.
“Build a boat” sang her golden voice.
His heart was hers and so was his choice.
His heart was hers as he began to build
his boat of love and wood,
to sail the waves, the frothy waves,
to come to where she stood…
league upon league, and many leagues more,
far from his passion, on a far away shore.
With loving care he hewed each timber
for keel and plank and mast,
to brave the waves, the roiling waves,
his love to bring her at last.
From foggy morn to setting sun
his love and boat were built as one.
With loving care he set the mast,
and made the rigging taut;
to span the waves, the far flung waves,
and find the one he sought,
the one that sang Love’s tempting song,
the one he’d dreamed of for so long.
He left his home upon the mountain.
His boat he took to the sea
to risk the waves, the spuming waves,
and with his Siren forever be.
She sang “Come to me, and make me thine,
in your loving vessel so yar and fine.”
He left all he knew upon the land;
hauled up the billowing main
to sail the waves, the wind blown waves,
and follow her melodic refrain…
“Come to me, and take my breath
for we shall never part in life or death.”
His Siren Boat was true as his love
when the wind filled up the sail.
Into the waves, the thundering waves,
she cut beyond the pale…
the bow set hard to the setting sun,
and the sail was full til day was done.
His Siren Boat was true as his love,
but the song he no longer heard
across the waves, the lonesome waves;
he listened, but never a word.
He sailed from that day and evermore after
alone on the sea, the silent sea.
But, from time to time, when the wind was still,
he thought he heard laughter.
©tlh 1/11/11
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