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the_sonnet_page
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Borealis
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for those of us who are growing tired of haiku, as a sole means of expression
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040706
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Borealis
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remember_this
ocotober 2003
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040706
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Borealis
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In dreams and in shifting dancing light, leaves
tell a thousand stories, the pattern dies
among the twists of fate and time, sooth trees
their music, and wind reaching to clear skies
slowly, entrapped in an infinite night
the patterns fading cleaving from my grasp
so quickly do they falter in the light
dreams wanting of shape in their scritching grasp
a rasping voice so far from dust to breathe
in the liquid, the cool clear and clean, must
which changes the chemistry and then leave
ever new ever running ever trust
osmosis, metamorphosis inside
my frail shell, is this that you do deride?
July 2004
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040706
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Borealis
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The chill of morns dew still clings to the ground
And darkness like a sheet of down covers.
Everything, lies still, not making a sound
The spider, in her web, feels a shudder
A slight twinge of diphanous threads, silken
And quivering in the mornings starlight
So delicate, remaining unbroken
Streams of sun beams drift, as day covers night.
Innocence is bliss: a statement profound
Truly depicted in nature's beauty.
Winds sing through leaves, light lilts along the ground
In shifting, dancing patterns so softly.
Fondly I still see memories of bliss
Innocent, cheeks brushed by the sun's loving kiss.
2003
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040706
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Borealis
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carving lines in the dust through the desert,
of your untamed mind, all to nothing in
the end, but so sweet while it lasts, inert
but for the scorching, memories keeping
me awake at night. When will the water
flow through my dusty roads cleaning away
and washing my indiscretions, Never,
will I be entirely free of you, nay
your touch lives on, under my skin, your lips
in torturous reality tracing
the lines of my body losing my grip
on the distinction; then and now; feeling
inadequate? or maybe just lost in
thought, one more time, one more day. PASS THE GIN!
2004...and well..gin just rhymed. :)
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040706
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Borealis in a different frame of mind
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I see a morning kiss wafting over
the clear yellow of that beam of light who
drifts lazily in the window, see her
shape depicted in particles of blue
dust, languid in their descent from some far
unknown place, Where is the land of the dust?
soft curtains pulled back to reveal, ajar,
a window to the world, which will which must
remain beautiful, if not for my sake
then for the sweet innocence of the birds
in the trees far above your gazing eyes. Take
note of this touch, in this moment, deserve
the look I give you, and do not dismiss
me in shame, I love you, this is your kiss.
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040707
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Borealis
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perhaps..now that that is said..it will go away.
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040707
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oldephebe
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that's some mighty fine writing Borealis
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040707
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Borealis
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complete and utter nonsense
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040708
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Borealis
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that is..myself
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040708
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Borealis
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Turning to dust, so slowly yet subtly
sweet, time takes her toll on one more flower,
one more child, one more blade of grass. Then she
watches her first work undo hour by hour
in favor of another art: that of
dying. Where from did your tears run, how did
they dance down smooth stone, in starlight in love,
in moon, without hardening into this
crystal of salt, my saline beauties. You
in your shape and grotesque form, you mimic
childhood fears so vividly. I see through
this masquerade, I know your dreams, they stick
in this mind. I have wandered through that hell
or, at least this is what I tell myself...
July 2004
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040709
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Borealis
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cry again love
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040709
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