Sorry about the lack of internet presence. I had made some draft posts that stagnated before I have a driving-home-song-lyric-inspiration (which happens more often than you’d think). I’ve had an idea for years to boogie-woogie the Seven Brides song Polecat. But in the midst of a more melancholy ride home, humming the tune all the way, a verse came to me that suited just where my heart was at the time.
a lonesome landscape.
Tundra, blowing crisp and cool.
Whisper words, dear-
closer beside me–
that’s my warmer fuel.
It fits right in there with the second verse with all the nice tenor descants.
Snow’s a coming, but you know the word; just say it.
Till next time-
Also, you might enjoy this version too:
Headlines the day
amidst the river flows,
and echoes fade through boulevards
awaiting winter snows.
The Sun, with warmth, makes covenant
while tempest’s chill deceives
Sunshine, it glows
the north wind blows,
cascading waves of leaves.
Storm rivers subterranea.
Steam-heat inverted sieves.
Wind whisps the story of the day in cirrostratus lines
pale blue twilight welcomes the night, headlining city skies.
As it was, in the course of my daily labors: quite a cool and blustery day. The clouds formed the bottoms of waves as as I looked up to the surface of the lake-like sky. I’ve witnessed the waves in silence, hidden beneath the torrents and spray, secluded in the fathoms of crystal clear waters. For those who have not tried diving, I would highly recommend it.
But today, I did not find myself in the mute subaquatic. Rather, it was rustling the honeylocust leaves that have turned the sidewalks golden-brown with their departure. Frankly, I didn’t mind the wind; a little herringbone wool and sweater will thwart the tempests. The rain held off, and allowed room in the thoroughfares of the air for the gentle aromatics of the season to wander into my way and remind me just how good the earth smells in the fall. Blessed be God for the richness of autumn!
Welcome! A good friend so kindly told me, “you have a poet’s heart,” and so by their kind prompting, I will gently shower these pages with what art God inspires. We’ll look at the art of life, of mind, of paint & script; pretty much art where ever and when ever it’s found!
This site also serves a dual purpose for me, and in the spirit of realizing the gifts each is given on the way-to help and guide and grace others (and to encourage them to share their poems & art, too!) – I commit this first poem of the site:
As we help each other up the mountain cleft
out of the valley, dark, with life bereft,
for Love –
fills all our lives, with twelve full baskets left.