“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label season. Show all posts
Showing posts with label season. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 8, 2019
Imagery
Caught the words like snow
flakes-
Atop a calm pond net-
swallowing crystals.
I see life is almost
like a train ride as we sit
we fixate on this blurred view
and it passes too fast to focus
on a thing or know
how far we have traveled.
This season blurs
the windows
of time
when all changes
feel the same
as the last time.
Painting by Imre Ámos, c. 1939 in [Public domain].
Tuesday, August 16, 2016
Under pressure
That summer evening
the sky was pink and raw
and your eyes were streaked in red.
We could feel the cool air
rush between us,
in day and under night.
There were monsoons churning just miles away,
we could feel these winds too.
Sounds became amplified
in dusk and static cling.
You could hear quite clearly this ring,
some say halo
spreading above.
Colors holding onto some blended harmony,
a lilac or plum, some and none.
When we look up, you say away
our trajectory changes its synchronicity,
which was never the same as settling.
We knew the heat wave would break
as much as the cold spell would snap
the last straw, but we watched the change
wash over us.
We know, but forget constantly.
At times like these,
warm rain reminds us
endurance and presence
are more than enough.
Painting by Jean-Honoré Fragonard (1732-1836) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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