Rebirth

Upon my wake, after spitting sand and water, I sat upright and turned my sights to the horizon. Brilliant golden streamers descended gracefully toward her, while she lay quivering beneath. Her complexion was cold and stoic as she refused the wind's perpetual push; she was a flat plain of murky blue and I could not tear myself away. As the sunlight warmed my back and compelled me on, she stole my strength and forced me back, reeling, onto the sand. Ne'er I had a chance nor choice as she stole my breath away once and again.

Rising to my feet, I cowered as the freezing breeze stung my shins with sand and combed me with dust. I looked upon my ship, torn and broken on the rocks, and cursed she who had wrought my viduity. She, who had widowed me, stirred callously as I kneeled and wept, wetting her broken frame and returning salt to salt. Despite her brutal hand, I stood again and turned my back to her.

She had borne to me to this place of my rebirth; I turned my back to her and left the frozen beach.

Sight of Sea

A purple haze engulfed my ache,
A mistress so in-tune,
My lady bore my weight and wake,
Guided by fluorescent moon.

A shift and stir, from side to side,
And rolling underneath,
Her sweet embrace is gentle tide
Her whispers, just beneath.

Washed upon the solid ground,
I feel a calming breeze,
Despite the earth to which I'm bound,
She puts my mind to ease.

Thrown from ship, I've seen the sea,
And she has seen no less of me.

Rebirth

Black peaks devour
First rays of fragile sunlight
Reborn in blue skies

Friend or Foe

Now that I have left my place,
Ventured into distant lands,
Disappeared without a trace,
Swallowed by the empty sands.

I find myself quite happy here,
A here so far from there,
But when old ghosts begin to near,
I find myself quite short of air.

Friends of old are foes reborn,
And so they have their place,
Ever hidden, scorn and thorn,
And yet they seem to know my face.

Giants

Giants cut the world in half,
Cold, wet sheets of crystal,
Immune to poison and to gaff,
Eluding men so distal.

Their mournful moans, heart-wrenching,
Play softly in the azure,
Upon their thrones, most quenching,
Singing psalms of adjure.

Their place beneath the crest is holy,
A place devoid of men, so lowly.

Half-truths

Line after line that mock the old art,
Thrusting, ripping, and tearing apart,
Beautiful words that flow with such ease,
Sweet, savored phrases that come from the heart.

Word after word appears only a tease,
Defiling meanings, shown only to please,
Not written with love, they pour down the page,
Stifle the poet and drip with disease.

Letters, oh letters, from such an old age,
Gracing the poet, transform him to sage,
Yet meaning so less when they lack proper feel,
They condemn his actions, becoming his cage.

This poet has learned not to write, but to kneel,
Received in the bosom of only things real.

Clearcutting

Let indecision end today,
A towering stone stonewalled the path,
For day daylight, there's no delay.

Though loves break and away sway,
Past the block blockade, a bypath,
Let indecision end today.

Begin anew, new life assay,
Forget the old dark darkroom wrath,
For day daylight, there's no delay.

Forget dead deadwood in the way,
Block out outright the barb and gath,
Let indecision end today.

Feel not now as praying prey,
Stand strong and tall, forestall warpath
For day daylight, there's no delay.

Clear clearcut of grey decay,
The soil assoils for lattermath,
Let indecision end today,
For day daylight, there's no delay.