Poem: Aged Burning (Ihsahn)

The poet says to rage against the dying of the light.

But what if the light inside is not dying,

But settling comfortably into a crackling vitality.

The fire inside of a soul doesn’t have to be

A wildfire that consumes everything in its path.

It can resemble a hearthfire.

It burns with a quiet intensity without screaming

“The world must notice my pain and outrage”.

It burns without burning up.

This poet says that age brings temperance.

Sustenance is no longer flashing tremolo,

But a plucked melody in deliberate rhythm.

10/05/2017 Poem: Recalling Winter

I remember winter

I recall the silence and the brightness

The languid movements of half frozen trees

Who have already dropped their leaves,

Leaving only the skeleton branches to clack together.

I remember the only sounds

Being the crunching of snow

And the light whistle of the wind.

The heavy snow crushed sound to nothing,

Making winter sound like nothing.

9/27/17 Poem: A Storied Old Man

A Storied Old Man

His life reads in color on the wrinkles of weathered skin

Papyrus with pigment of times remembered twice.

Vellum scrawls and whorls and whirls

Read as the hieroglyphs of his time.

A lurching library painted with jackets

Of red and black and blue and eventually gray.

His left hand tells a story of his twenties

And his shoulder blades speak of a midlife decision.

The tops of his feet exclaim the power of love

And his chest shows the still hot coals of betrayal.

Read him top to bottom

And you will hear a tale.

Read him front to back

And you will know a story.