I really am posting these as soon as they come...

The portent (6-11-09)
What the hell was that?
Could you hear it too?
There. Can’t you feel it?
Its an echo of blue.
A chasm is forming
and I must go to sleep
for it is only in slumber
this world takes me under.
What, you might ask,
is this all about?
We’re entering a world
where no one can shout.
Hush you up now
don’t wrinkle your brow.
A soft crunching munch
starts sounding and pounding
in the back of my mind.
It signals a rounding
and beckons the time
when old thoughts must leave
and new ones are mine.
Open the door
let the waves come on in
a gentle sigh falls
as great a journey begins.

I don't even know what this one means (but it sounds cool!)

Ancient Invocation (6-11-09)
Of faeries old
and faeries bold
and all the things
I’ve never told
among them all
in this great hall
stands ever gold
along the wall
a perfect likeness
and yet despite this
coming round
and through it all
to your great highness
I will bow.

It was raining - can you tell?

the rumble path (6-11-09)
trailing across
a slate gray sky
the rumble path stretches
crescendos and fades
as far as the ear can hear
rocking the world and
humming the stones underfoot
like the tails of fishes
flashing in the sunlight
and slapping the surface
a momentary glint
in a pool filled with dark
then diving away
leaving only ripples
to mark out the past

I am out of clever blog titles...

the scrying stone (6-11-09)
veins and fractures
delve deep inside
but your surface this turmoil
so brilliantly hides
as reverent hands
caress your smooth skin
so cold and aloof
yet allowing me in
gazing far inside
your hidden world
mysteries and passions
are soon understood
energy wafts
from the core I hold dear
and so your secrets
I long to hold near
open to me
these mists of the past
and allow me your visions
but please not too fast
guide me and help me
to enter your world
and give me the gift
that allows me to see
but tinge it with wisdom
and a life understood

Another day another poem...

rainy day release (6-11-09) - {this title might change...}
silver sage hands
and deep veined green thumbs
flicker and twist
here the storm comes

gutters hush
and anxieties flush
in a sluice of cold desire
raging within is a burning fire

writhing limbs
entwine and entangle
completing each other
in every new angle

pillows float by
in a cloud-laden sky
and a rhythm is reached
as the storm clouds pass by

bursting from within
the end is so close
as thunder heads mount
and lightning bolts stroke

the final release
floods window pains
mingling with all
yet ready again

gentle winds rumble
and tickle the skin
as two lovers sigh
and don’t even notice
the clouds in the sky

But I think I went one too far...

Sometimes you should stop while you are ahead... Here I go back into trite cliche-ville! I am only posting this one because I want to be honest about this cycle of poems... The others are MUCH better... Maybe I will tweak this one or maybe I will just let it whimper off into the sunset where it belongs...

left behind (6-10-09)
i yearn for the comfort
of your warm embrace
because the emptiness left
makes a poor bedfellow
and the harder i try
to put on this face
the farther i fall
away from this grace
i have carved for myself
and everywhere i look
i can still see your face
and cannot escape
from this hollow place
you left behind

today is the first day
i did not cry and i yearn
for the comfort
of the day i can say
i cannot remember
the last time i cried
for someday i know
the tears will be
left behind too
and that doesn’t mean
i don’t love you
it just means
i will no longer be
and no longer see
myself as the one
left behind

When you're on a roll...

superstition (6-10-09)
hooty owls cry
in the dread of night
thrice heard but
never forgotten
merely searching for love
or defending a nest
but inspiring fear
in the listening ear

how many times
did the lonely owls call
disproving that myth
before you died
and left us all?

on this dread night
as the bull frogs moan
and the hooty owls cry
tiny insects
fly headlong
into a flickering flame
victims of instinct
and harbingers of
nothing more
than an insatiable
quest for the
comfort of light

Why stop...?

to end a thirsty night (6-10-09)
etched and echoed
in subtle shades
of blue on black
darkness falls
to sheets of light
orchestrated
by a symphony
of croaks and moans
punctuated by the silk
of distant rumbles
as storm clouds skulk
across the hills
and gentle breezes
caress the trees
to the plippity tap
of lazy drops
soaking the sand
and spreading relief
as insect melodies
weave an alien song
to the beat of the night
and the sponge of life
sucks away this drought

And finally a little rhyme time

sycamore song (6-10-09)
twisted and gnarled
shaped by the wind
your fibrous arms
sway and bend
in a lover’s dance
of arches and roots
dappled shade
passes underfoot
and your bark tells
of stories seen
and others things
that might have been
protect me from
this world tonight
as try I may
and try I might
to see the world
in your loving light

I like my new stones! :-)

singing with the stones (6-10-09)
suspended on chain
and humming with strength
you beckon me closer
your truths once again
dazzling my eyes
with blind memories
of secrets untold
and vague shimmering
as futures unfold
in mountains of time
all worn down to nubs
yet building again
in resurrections of life
and these ashes of mine