the manor… [“_“]

the manor… [“_“]

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the manor

in the house of the dying sun,
a knock on the door
an uncle a cousin a brother
and I forgot to remember-
that he is gone
for father has traveled on
into the land beyond (our senses).
the wife, a sister, my mother
left with the charge
for every crack and nook
imbued with the marriage of years
strolling through photobooks
slow motion silent cinema tales
snapshots of a life no longer in motion
told and closed,
the deacon of my being struggles
struggles for reason
for faith to believe in our fates
for a reason, for a meaning,
I yearn for the voice of dominion
for guidance, for wisdom
for the power to accept
as we must, and accept
there is no choice
no choice in the matter
for soon enough I will join you father
and once more
be of your manor.

notes… been mired in the weather so not posting too much, I have been writing however, just not posting, sometimes life gets in the way, you know ? Thanks for all the looks and comments, I appreciate your time and stopping by.

simplicity.accurate.

simplicity.accurate.

two silver colored rings on beige surface
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to death,
so thee I wed
the inevitable
my betrothed

notes: haiku feel, at least that was my feel on it, one of those that  ‘wrote itself’ as I say, well, because it did, the universe was in charge, I was just driving to work this morning, contemplating another useless day earning a buck so I could fund better ones, listening to some tunes, but since traffic has been light(er) I can not jot down my thoughts, so I kept reciting this like a mantra until I got to the office and could write this down, so maybe it resonates more with me, if so, that’s cool, but I leave it up to you…

death, mistress… and some simple lines…

death, mistress… and some simple lines…

active ash cloud ashes blaze
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(1)

death, mistress
I will never court thee
but yet I am subject to your whim
left to fend off your crop
I will not give in –
willingly
or say your name
with reverence
death, mistress

(2)

on the randomness of moths
and their addiction to flame
just because I can not discern a pattern
does not mean their commotions are not plain

notes… two unrelated works, written on the same day on different sides of my brain, the first one I consider a circular poem, the second just a thought, maybe just brush strokes really, but that’s fine, a little nug of truth beats a mountain of nothingness any day… or at least that is the story I am sticking to… thanks for the view (yes, you).

music? Humanmeshdance – Moth…. from a really limited EP, I forget how many copies were made at the time, but this… is the digital age so…. ambient goodness…. oh so good…

the silent houses (redux) …

the silent houses (redux) …

related to an earlier post, I forgot I wrote the accompanying poem… so, here it is, for what that’s worth…

adult alone black and white blur
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the silent houses
where widows dwell
draped in shrouds
for now lost spouses

every corner filled
friend and family cover
for seven cycles of hours
dishes, well wishes and flowers

for then night comes
in the familiar home
only one heart beats now alone.
the silent houses


musical … Katatonia – My Twin

A couple of poems for a Monday night…

A couple of poems for a Monday night…

ancient antique armor armour
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Heck, I admit it, I am on Game of Thrones overload… I binge watched season 7 all day Sunday (man so much happened).  I posted a review of the new season on my media review page (shameless plug here), I thought my brain would just shut off, but just when I think the well has dried up and I am the Sahara incarnate the muse lets me know she is not quite done with me yet (for good, for bad, for worse ? I don’t know)… so I literally wrote these tonight in a fever, well, OK not in a fever, they came to me, one when I was walking Samantha (the dog, I will post photos one of these days), to be fair, she walks herself, she is 10-ish, and the second as I was washing my face, seriously, I started the second poem in my bathroom scrubbing the old face, ah, the muse, she is her own thing and she owns me…

 


 

silhouette of tress
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you are my constellation
bright upon that sky
even in the coming storm
I know your coordinates
your pulsar
a string of light
always close
ever far
from my touch
but always there
when I look,
for I hope when I pass
to transform to light
and join you
in that nightly retreat

(2)

tethered by a chord
into this world I did descend
lives and loves, my time is spent
so here I am at the end of such road
an appointment due with no one at all
for you have taken all my friends
I hope that with this single coin
might bear passage
to see them
once again


All looks, likes, comments and the such is greatly appreciated.  Criticism is welcome, how else can one grow ?  be well, spring is upon the land, at least mine, still waiting for the iron grip of this winter to relent… but there was a single dandelion on my lawn… a marker toward the march of summer’s dawn…