Song of Summer’s End

A melancholy cry chokes my throat,
a siren’s call of Summer’s turning.
Caramel smells fill my head-
fermented leaves, intoxicating and sweet.
The lime-yellow sky,
radiant dusk infused with aqua
is reiterated by rainbows of
glowing trees,
unfettered joy
surging skyward
burning slowly to sleep.

Moist, mild air balms my body-
a cocoon of coziness
soft and neat,
a temporary reprieve
before setting sun draws down a chill.

Two lovers mosey
while two others repose,
lost in reverie
forever brief.

As crickets whir and click and reel,
throaty squawks of geese
bid farewell, southward bound,
solicitous, free.

This fanfare of Fall
diminishes, somnolent, deep.
I succor its unguent dolor-
lullaby, coda
to summer’s green.

Technorati tags- poem, Autumn, Fall, summer’s end

Iceberg

Emotions bulk under the surface.
Parched thoughts search through drawers,
looking for lost socks, ones missing a matching twin.
Burly ogres guard the door, eying me with cyclops grins,
thousands of books piled high around them, dog eared ravenously.
Next to me I find a strip of old photographs, proof sheets,
black and white miniatures bordered with numbers,
thin shavings of the early years, glamorous tinted skin,
debutante attitudes with the light always shining from behind.
My face looks back at me, learning from my lines,
taking notes on little scraps of discarded catalogs
lost under the sea, rolling among waves of salty tears.
Cordoned off are rooms with freshly cut flowers,
bouquets of roses stripped of thorns, just beginning
to wilt, though the shades are drawn, the door key-less.
Saints and sinners meet in the room next door,
a détente to sort things out. They share a meal
of smoked ham and lentil stew, homemade with love.
The weather holds its breath, waiting
for the key to the stopped clock on the wall.
But they leave by a secret door, un-noticed.
The tub overflows, drowning
all the roses, whose petals float out
with one note scribbled on each,
notes of a song of gratitude, randomly humming
as they hover out the window and out to sea.
And the wind chimes pick up the tune
as if they already knew.

technorati tags- poems, poetry, postmodern poems, modern American poems

What is a Kiss?

What is a kiss if not pure bliss?
Can it be spent or saved, as a coin
dropped in a slot machine, fruit
spinning dials deciding fortunes
outcome from emotion purloined?

Can a kiss be a kiss if not missed?
Where are the dreams of passion
lost in wine soaked hours spent rubbing
the lamp, waiting, hoping genie’s
magic will quell doubtful ration?

Isn’t a kiss the door to a garden
of roses, leading up to a house
with no blinds? Where is the porch
and the light switch to guide me?
Where is the mill of my arousal?

Technorati tags- kiss, doubt, poem

Noël

Happy Winter Solstice!

technorati tags- Christmas poems, Winter Solstice poems, Noel, Winter garden poems

Jingle Ironies

A day can seem like forever born,
a year but a passing shadow.
Ten hours in a car to nowhere, forlorn,
stellar travel just out on the patio!

There’s a feast before us, ready to consume,
yet the largest, glitziest package may be hollow
while the tiny, cardboard box may perfume
long winter nights with dreams one can follow.

A world in a word, sealed with a kiss,
yet years mayn’t ever heal a kiss wounded.
Who’s to say what the meaning is, ’til
you see that “you’ve got to choose it!”

Jingle ironies or love’s frivolity, it’s
not with whom, but how we share life, clearly.
Be gentle by your spirit and kindle its fortitude.
Share with those who might need it so, dearly.

technorati tags- Christmas poems, friendship poems