Three Poems

Far Flung Places

From whence you come
I do not know,
but your cloak seems weathered.
Through shifting sands
and deadly dunes
you surely must have travelled.
Your wide-brimmed hat
is more foreign yet
and stranger to this stranger.
Your buckled boots
and bangled straps
have seemly seen the mountains.
And to top it off
your foreign face
seems all the more familiar.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Of a Missing Poem

This, thusly though,
of rhyme, meter, and row
is here drawn by master hands
of quiet, quickly cometh.

Of whence, I withered that
south of where we lay,
she did in fearless, dreading
breathe, travel north to stay.

stayed ‘neath such blackly raven locks
so did courteously cradle
a fount, so finely splendid in day,
so at night did darkly tremble.

Fearful that, of which steady soul enabled
hides those raven locks and famished fount
from dreading’s dungeon fabled, in
fides me naught for southern seas and days.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Encender

It seems to me quite strange,
from where I cannot say,
that the burning of the torch is to last all night and day.
It’s bearer’s burden’s strain,
mania in closely followed suit,
that the brighter it may burn shall darkly brightness’ colors mute.

It seems to me quite strange,
that from this we cannot stray,
but without that night, then there can be no day.
That night does cause us pain,
but in darkness lies our route,
that whether we shall find the light once more or ever dark dispute.

Hardened, and bed-weary, we travelers do obey:
Our skins, our hides, and brightest gems
do a shell develop.
Saddened, crossed, and most of all
a feeling of fetid, rearing hatred,
we do a shell develop.
But in the end, the strangest thing
is to these lonesome strangers:
The flame is trapped inside them.

What then do we carry?