January 24, 2012 “hushed” (on the passing of my mother)
“hushed”
(on the passing of my mother)
*
a light has gone out
.
the candle that glowed in the window
is burned down to grey smoke
spiriting toward heaven
.
the path darkened
the way unlit
the door is closed
and the chair empty
the hearth no longer warm
the blush faded from the rose
.
muted is love’s comforting voice
beneath folds of white
and soft closed eyes
laughter is hushed
.
in a brighter heaven
we are greater for knowing that star
the world lesser without it
.
tlh 1/24/11
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
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
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
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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