Summer Days of Old

Summer Days of Old

 The dew dried up at daybreak,
The plowing raised a cloud,
The air was still and heavy,
No breath of peace allowed;

Into the forest gladly ran
The children after chores,
Chasing after shady spots
And fairy rings and mounds;

Through the trees, the summer dimmed,
Sparkling sky-specks flickered,
’Mid humming wings and trills of birds,
Upon the moss they rested;

Who knows what dreams those dreamers dreamed?
Who knows what happened to them?
Who knows if e’er their dreams came true,
Or vanished without requiem?

~ Alys
30 January 2005

Grandmommy's Robe

Grandmommy's Robe

 

A silken robe of palest blue,

Wound 'round its hem was creamy lace,

It wrapped me like a kiss of dew,

Like love reflected in her face;

I trailed around, a child too small,

Pretentiously properly grand,

A Cinderella at the ball,

Waltzing with no visible band;

I postured up and down the halls,

As melodies rose from below -

My arias with La Callas -

Deafening off-key crescendo;

Indulgent accolades followed

My dramatic operatics,

Her sweet embrace – ah, Emeraude –

In that robe, love’s lingered fabric.

© Alys

25 January 2005

Red Rose (haiku)

a red rose budding
petals offer velvet love
sacrificial life

© Alys
15 January 2005

Winter Moon

Winter Moon

Yellow moon mellows

Like a fine filter smudges

Harsh midnight shadows . . .

© Alys

12 January 2005

In My Solitude

In My Solitude

“You haunt me . . .”
An old refrain
Plays;
Starlit darkness
Falls.

Half of my soul
Drifts;
Eternity
Ends.

I am alone,
With echoes.
Another life
Calls;
As if the sea
Knows.

Waves caress and
Kiss;
Embracing me
Less.

I am alone,
With echoes.
My solitude
Sings;
As our heartbeat
Slows.

© Alys

22 June 2004

Tempest Tossed

Tempest Tossed

Tempest tossed, through stormy seas,
Wind and rain abound,
Like a sailor out upon the waves,
With no peace ever found;

Driven on through day and night,
By fierce compelling fire ~
Create! Burning passionate,
Crashing with desire;

My ship, a-battered to and fro,
My helmsman's the devil's own;
My fevered-brain first high then low ~
Create! Ah, had I but known . . .

Tempest tossed, battered down,
Suddenly skies shine clear,
Land ho! My work is done ~
I drift - the shore is near;

Gently rolls the tide,
Gently sails my ship,
A respite, like cool water,
Upon my parched lips.

A cry from my devil-helmsman -
"Aloft!" - the sails snap;
Driven out to sea again,
My creativity a trap.

~ © Alys
22 February 2004

haiku For My Sister

haiku For My Sister

She was a goddess,

Always taller and faster;

There goes my sister.

© Alys

05/22/03

Naked In Wonderland (haiku) and As Breathing

Naked In Wonderland

Naked, I pass through,

Like Alice in Wonderland;

A mirror of life.

© Alys

01 January 2005

As Breathing

Sometimes I inhale;

an intoxication of sensation

lifts me lightly

as a boat is lifted

by sweet swelling sails aloft. . .

filled with perfumes of spring

and summer, fall

and winter, past

and future. . .

crushed and broken grasses,

berries swollen-ripe and oozing

flavored scent. . .

chewing the thickness of fragrant flowers,

then suffocating humidity

until

rain coming

and then rain gone. . .

sneezing in the dust of fall and the first

scent of burning turning

into cold-penetrating stabbing

thieving furious icy air. . .

Sometimes I inhale;

an intoxication of sensation

choking in the smell of death

decaying drunkenly in darkness,

gasping, grasping

no hope

just a searing

that suddenly subsides,

leaving me shaking. . .

then ethereal eucalyptus –

not a cure

just a comfort. . .

Sometimes I inhale;

without thinking, without smelling

any particular particle;

automatic breath of life,

the pedestrian transformed

into being,

existing mindless

thoughtless effortless

yet crucial

to bring into me those

intoxications of sensation. . .

I have begun to think of you as breathing.

© Alys

1996

~ for Cris

My Heart As One

My Heart As One

A world of pain and darkness
has now imprisoned me
but your peaceful world beckons
with the light to set me free . . .

Across my world and into yours
you have made the bridge appear,
no prison’s pain can hold me back
when I know your heart is near . . .

Your voice is crashing thunder,
and gentle falling rain,
it is a quiet lullaby at dawn,
and the rolling of the waves
I hear you in the whistle-blow,
I feel you in the sun –
and the softest stirring breeze that blows –
isn’t that the echo of your soul –
a caress of love forever mine
that mends my heart as one

I will run into tomorrow
a smile upon my face,
I will find the stars in heaven
and at last will know my place . . .

Your voice will always find me
and guide me on my way
as I cross the bridge divine
till we meet again, one day . . .

Your voice is crashing thunder,
and gentle falling rain,
it is a quiet lullaby at dawn,
and the rolling of the waves
I hear you in the whistle-blow,
I feel you in the sun –
and the softest stirring breeze that blows –
isn’t that the echo of your soul –
a caress of love forever mine
that mends my heart as one.

~ © Alys
23 December 2003
in memory of Johnny Cash