Poetry of Home

I have drowned my soul
In the music of this land,
The Woods, the shores, the hills,
Until I have forgotten how to live
Anywhere else.
The tossing of the sea,
The stillness of sand in silver turmoil,
The storm-beaten trees bent in prayer…
But it is a life worth living
If your soul is on the speaking terms
With Poetry.

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Flights of fancy

Streams always seem to whisper
something to themselves in the hollow,
Making each other laugh.
It is rather infectious
Summoning me back
To my childhood’s flights of fancy.

The sea is never lonely

I have spent mornings drinking beauty,
Walking along coastal paths
While growing wings
Spun of white surf sprinkled with the gold dust
Of dawn.

I have learned to love the sea’s every mood,
Cast unto rugged gray cliffs
rising steeply from blue coves,
Or Caresses smothered unto white sandy dunes.

But the sea is never lonely,
It is full of whispering, beckoning, moaning
Of some great sorrow
Or great joy,
Imposed upon the land without excuse,
While solitary humans, like myself,
wander, awed and spellbound,
On the outer frame of it.

Solitude is on the shores

Solitude is on the shores
Of Summer twilights,
When the sun is falling
And the old keeps its tryst
With the days it loved.

You will harness your soul then
In the dimming sea,
In the whisk-away surf,
Clothing yourself in the fairy grace
Of whispering trees
And rolling waves of sunset
Gradually disappearing
Into the lost lands
Of beyond.

Where Rivers meet

Where rivers meet,
In valleys deep,
Their embrace:
In hands, in sorrows,
Each with his own take
On scraping rocks
And hostile land,
A strengthening, a mighty merge
To cast away, to formidably fall
And to finally be
Youthfully reborn.

Summer days have long since paled

Summer days have long since paled,
Autumn songs are sounding.
The sea, the woods, the hills, the trees
All awaiting the season’s twilight.
Birds journeying far on the horizon,
Only Evergreens are left shining.
Grief, like the bee’s transparent wings
Sheds its cloaking with the sun’s
Goodbying.