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.

Consecration of an Angel

Consecration of an Angel 3-18-94

Anointed on gold immaculate.
Robed in velvet red.
This crimson scarlet guardian.
Of wings majestic, chatoyant adornments.
Wafting on the premonition of death.
His sentient gesture of solace in the breeze
waits with empathetic sadness.
He must know what is to come.
You can see it in his eyes.
There is no other tranquility
for his mere hands,
his trusting arms folded open
propending to comfort the gentle soul of this
child
about to come unto him.
Suffer not my beloved.
Blessed you are safe.
I will show you the way.
The consecration of an angel.

Angel Bones

Angel Bones 6-14-93 / 1:15am

Thought: Grieving over the loss of a brother. It was about eighty degrees, the sun was shining and a slight rain was coming down. Slight enough that the driveway stayed dry but enough that you could smell it from the kitchen table and hear it in the trees.

Remnants of a fallen angel
where ever they may settle
find a way
to brush the dust from my soul.

I stumbled upon them
in the slumber of my dreams
browsing through boxed memories
unearthed from the feeling field.

Angel bones
parched white in the sun
blinded my eyes with tears
flooding my soul with relief.

Thought: Have you ever lost a sibling in your youth? Have you ever stashed away in the attic, in a box, the personal belongings? Have you ever forgotten about that box? Have you ever looked through that box? Have you ever decorated your home with its contents?