Born by the sea
the blood within my veins
flow with the tides.
Waves crash inside me
as fate plays out upon
Life’s great stage.
Rain dancing with soil
cleanses Wind-swept dust
from pillars reaching skyward
quenching life’s Sun-blanched thirst.
Gray clouds spiral above
filling with light and sound
the storm’s magic
is no longer silent.
My bones tremble
Ocean’s ebon depths rise
and the shore surrenders to her fury.
Gale-fired swells flood the land
calling to mind from which
all things have come.
Subject only to Time
the course of the storm
allows the ground to again
kiss the air soaking up the light of day.
Perched upon my mountain’s top
Time’s toll on my form evident
each droplet of future’s rain
forecast in the joints
that hold me together.
Like an Old Wizard
without a book of spells
pain’s relief escapes me
Thor forewarned me of the impending storm
his hammer thundered in the distant sky
from a gentle breeze the strong wind is born
whipping up the sea as it blows on by
spray from the gale-charged whitecaps sting my face
great swells pound the pier beneath my feet
mimicking foot steps, the waves keep pace
timbers trembling as they run past me
specters of warriors invade the shore
the angry surf crashes upon the beach
sounds of mortal combat with shield and sword
it seems their victory is now within reach.
The sighted can see, all that can be seen.
In blindsight I feel, what all things can be.
Helios’ sun no longer reigns supreme
as Autumn’s sky begins to cool and gray
Hephaestus loads his brush in nature’s forge
painting each of the bird’s feathers with fire
wings stretched, the sumac looks skyward
milkweed burst in puffs of white smoke
and the phoenix is consumed by winter
until Boreas’ takes his last frosty breath
with Spring’s gentle touch, comes resurrection.
I see Autumn’s brilliant colors are all but gone,
Summer’s sweet song has long been sung.
Short days followed by endless cold nights,
brown forest and fields are now Winter’s delight.
I see a bear walking about curious and free,
no more long Summer’s naps, in the shade of a tree.
She now searches for a safe and suitable den,
so her and her cubs, can sleep until Winter’s end.
I see squirrels abandon their tree-top penthouse suites,
storing nuts underground, or in the hollow of a tree.
Needing food aplenty, they will not sleep Winter away,
even on the snowiest days, the squirrels frolic and play.
The long warm Summer’s day now begins to cool and fade nighttime creeps into the day’s light Winter’s reign of darkness now in sight.
Trees are the first as if prearranged recognizing Mother Nature’s subtle change denying life giving essence to branches and limbs storing all its nourishment deep down within soon they will enjoy a long winter’s sleep a lasting silence but for an occasional crack or creek.
“The Feathery First Mate”
(QUATRAIN) In first person
by Hugh A Tague
Gliding high on a warm ocean breeze.
Over white sands beaches and bright blue seas.
Or perched way up high in a coconut tree.
That’s just a few places that I like to be.
From my crown to my tail and on both my wings
Color abounds, red, blue, yellow, and green.
when pirates came to visit me in my tree,
The captain of the ship took a fancy to me.
Would you deny his ardent touch, if you could?
Has he brought wisdom as well as great pain?
Vanity’s cry in your reflection withstood
Your ignorance washed away with his rain.
Foolishly thinking you can take back your night
Each minute belongs to him and him alone
With the same voice he turned your hair pure white
His hold is deep-reaching into the bone.
When you thought that he couldn’t be watching
Closing your eyes, you feel his grip release
Slipping into a place no clocks are ticking
His reign upon your life will never cease.
Hate him for keeping you within his shroud
The Reaper’s touch, you will not disallow.