every breath a bead in an endless strand
"I'm not sure about all this, but I'm starting to get the hang of it."
https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hgI_v8L2kHM/V7NTrVZ6M7I...
concrete plain gray highway woven across the land ...
nothing sweet empty sky not a care in the world a ...
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stark beauty laid bare
no cherished heart of silence
no season's hallmark
just love that dances barefoot
in the middle of the air
heart break
split me open
my thoughts seem to cut me
fear and hope fracture my well being
let go
Labels: heartbreak, let go
Crashing
against concrete,
a tanker's oily wake
smells of dead fish and gasoline.
HeartBreak.
She is
Turning away.
The arc of a stone tossed;
A splash in the peaceful waters.
Ripples
ripples
Whisper nothing
Along the morning beach
Two dolphins glide by silently
SmallWaves
Bright star
Touch the moons horns
Fall with me this Evening
RedClouds deepen into velvet
twilight
Warm sun
Through the bamboo,
Azalea choked by weeds;
My blunt tool grubs out the choke trees.
HardWork.
Rejoice!
blue jays have come
to eat the ripe berries:
the purple burden of this bush.
PraiseThem!
flowers
someone planted
don't belong in this place
Pull them out and let the weeds grow
NoSweat
Labels: quinquains
Terzanelle of Kosovo Fields
Richard Jackson
June 2000
The soldier thinks he can beat the moon with a stick.
His is a country where roads do not meet, nor words touch.
The walls around him crumble: his heart is a pile of bricks.
We sit with the sky draped across our knees and trust
that the shadows of planes, whisper like children in the fields,
follow roads that do not meet us, speak words we will not touch.
The soldier lights a fuse that makes a tragic story real:
our words scavenge the countryside like packs of dogs, derelict,
abandoned, hunted by the shadows of planes that cross the fields.
It's true that the blackbirds fill the air with their terrible music.
How could we think a soldier wouldn't turn our stars to sawdust?
Now our words scavenge the countryside, and our loves are derelict.
I wanted to love you beyond the soldier's aim, beyond the war's clutch.
Now bombs hatch in our hearts. Even the smoke abandons us for the sky.
How could we think a soldier wouldn't turn our stars to sawdust?
We live in a world where the earth refuses to meet the sky.
Our homes are on the march, their smoke abandons us for the sky.
Our soldiers thought they could beat the moon with their sticks.
Now every heart is crumbling, every love is a pile of bricks.
