as a vagrant cloud
will soften the edges
of a lambent moon
so the changing season
holds its gentle influence over me
that brings a quieter light
to uncover again
a dormant voice
that will dance and muse
with the thoughts from a leadening sky
Author: Paul Paterson
will spirits dance
where will they fly
our errant spirits
sunlit spores rising cleansed
from the glue of old bones
perhaps
too young to leave just yet
so captured in the spark
of a new nascent dawn
to redeem life’s sweet tastes again
perhaps
purified through many lives
let loose to feel a fresher wind
encouraging their flight
to dance new astral plains
three ravens
for Dad. Safe travels
three ravens had flown
called by the thinning breeze
up to where the spirits come
to see if he was waiting there
he will be coming they said
walking through old pastured lands
lain fallow now for many years
with withered roots and flowers laid bare
and when he comes
we will watch him pass
the purest self through an open heart
and blend beyond into endless air
storm tree
she waits
holding to the thrill
of his slow approach
known
consented to
she sways
as he nears
electricfying skin
willing
soon to be covered
in her lover’s sweat
she accepts
his sonorous voice
dances her furious dance
eyes closed
flailing limbs
lost in the passion of it all
the last leaf
tenuous threads bind
to the dancing wind reaper
his whims will cut loose
the acknowledgement of stars
how quiet it is
the unknown dark
wellspring
sibling
its brilliant beads
surrounding us
in patient
perdurable herds
awaiting an outcome
or acknowledgement
that we know
they are unbearably
far away
fledglings
it’s the not knowing
yet they grew stronger than our
crystal ball of fears
New book of poems
Hello WordPress world. I have a second volume of poetry available through Blurb books. It is lovely to have a new baby to release 🙂 I hope it might resonate with a few out there.
https://www.blurb.com/b/9561229-my-path-to-the-sea
flood and drought
quasi drunk
on these precious petals
plucked by trembling
finger tips of good faith
and half willing
only to appease
our inability to change
but they are in no measure
what mother needs
to keep her flesh
from bleeding out
and crying for us
her lost ones
who can only cling
to her withering skin
and our own false
hope
night rain
haven’t we heard enough
of this insatiable thirst
lapping at our bones
and our land
our windows and doors
it’s as if to say
‘just to remind you
we might not stop
if we choose’
but for now it’s just bluff
they will lull us to sleep
and slip away before
the light wakes
an obliterate world
