sunset conveyed

http://www.flickr.com/photos/rebelwithafrog/6431225989/

this ephemeral sunset conveyed
to you.

the lamp post casting light,
the vacant footpath walkless,
the boulevard unseperated,
the passing truck barreling oblivious,
the altostratus clouds so thin and uniform,
the sky in fleeting twilight,
the silhouettes of trees uncolored,
the idle cement factory conveyor belt,
the stark wind into my face,
the flared nostrils of my breath,
the smell of industry punched out,
the ambient silence hearkening
the sound of colors abound,
this entrance to the melding night…

this pleasing moment
in my life,
of neither past nor future.
but, to succumb
within this moment.
as if surreal
they were all there.

elegant sentiment

http://www.flickr.com/photos/rebelwithafrog/5828278565/

bedew, elegant sentiment.

drooping into nightness, wherefore vigor and freshness spent in task.
become somnolent. coolness, darkness, all but shade and blades of grass;
sustaining the white noise of night i am absorbing all quiet.

doth fully still; my soul pulsates, my breath confesses desire.

and heavenly dew finds me, my jaded nooks and tattered cranies
patient dew, quench my folly, douse my sullied conscious, settle thee
i accept thy lingering bath, saturated and washed of haste.

elegant sentiment, refreshed.


Author's Note:
I spent so many years wallowing in discomfort. A struggle at times to feel normal, and writing about it. Seemingly to always be looking back at the pain. Even when looking forward to something in the future. I know discomfort awaits; i know when and where. Some time ago I started concentrating on wallowing in relaxation. Striving for the situation to harmony. How does one get there? You don’t. You are just there, like the dew. Dew just is. When all conditions are right, dew will collect on everything outside. I can’t demand peace of mind, freedom from discomfort or absence of want. I can however, get outside of my head and prepare myself mentally to allow for dew and a peace of mind to enter. This elegant sentiment is an exercise in that preparation.


I shall share this poem with acquaintances and strangers. I shall read the poem out loud. I shall ask them to walk across the dew in the morning without haste.

Memorial Day

Memorial Day 5-30-94

The crickets chirp.
The crow caws.
The pinwheel squeaks
in the wind.
The dog barks.
The bug crawls on my knee.
The old man plants flowers
in the distance.
Roughly eight o'clock p.m.
and eighty degrees.
Summertime.
The squirrels are busy
and the grass has grown for the day.
The trees whisper at dusk.
The sun has gone
and the night rolls in.
The cemetery is closing,
come again.

Stars in the Sky

I've been reading my journals for the past couple of weeks. Even though I have written things years ago, some more than 30 years ago, I may still post them. A good example is the entry "Stars in the Sky". It so happens I wrote it 30 years ago to the day and it is one of the oldest writings I can find with a date on it. Many of them I never dated. In the big picture, old entries may be relevant. I'm not going to copy my journal and paste it into this blog. I will post what moves me at the time.

Stars in the Sky 10-17-76

Beautiful sight
late at night.
The stars in the sky
it seems
they begin to
cry.

I don't know.
I just don't know why
they
begin
to cry.