It seems, under such disappearing dusk,
years end like a funeral march, beautiful.
Seconds with frozen breath ascend to heaven.
Small lights shimmer then go quietly cold
beneath the pulse of evergreen fingers (undeterred).
Snow swirls patiently to a final resting place
with us who find, with each step, we sink lower,
lower. Soon our family will cover our eyes with
petals and coins. Another year will end.
in the way of magnets
such exquisite dance of limbs
our opposition: arms crossed, back to back,
unrelenting stand-off
then such a turn, you and I
eye to eye, drawn down a path, pulled
suddenly together
with a force of ancient strength, our
two palms pressed
transformative and stuck.
(had a dream of magnets… inspired this 3:07A piece)
This cold wind
stings eyes while
pinching cheeks red.
Cold wind like death,
a playful devil,
seems to whisper
“did you really think
you were the one to
get away?”
But, what if we lived in California,
what if we moved south of here ….
We were born to roam midnight streets
to leave sticky notes of jazz on exuberant thighs
stopped beneath streetlights of dancing rays
gnawing here and there, tipping them back, tossing aside.
We die each hour of impending day but
the streets become a blues pulse, thumping. Again,
hold on to night’s desperation and grind slow
into cobblestones content with the hour still late, late, late.
when the moon is high, there can be
no pity, no regret.
dive into that grave dug for you,
freshly turned soil soft such
welcome respite from a season
spent clinging to… to
summer, hope,
last rays of light as they hit the lowest angle
and bleed across the sky –
there is no shame in lying among the moss and the dead
giving themselves to dirt.
sleep easy before the quiet snow,
one simple silver bell toll at a time,
becomes a burial shroud, so calm, so inevitable.
I saw a man with a dog as the
sky opened up and fell in love.
I ran to stay dry.
Rain didn’t last.
Such chance encounter dried
quickly on summer hot bricks.
we, entangled, are a chimney on a roof in a city charmed by night.
below us
lives a stretch of danger like crumbled cement,
corner-cut deals.
darkness has its way
of inviting
us to pull taller in the shadows. mark these choices
with coal and chalk.
legs on legs, before the lightning …
#Poetry round-up today! WOO! Some oldies I pulled randomly out of the hat. Remember – over 650 posts here. Make sure, on rainy days like today, you spend some time and look around 🙂
apathy:
i don’t care.
nothing matters.
we live, we die.
the dust continues its
domination, another
has the same existential crisis.
then he dies too.
Poetry by JC Snyder 