Tag Archives: #subtleties

Speechless

In deference to Jane Austen, who never would be silent

She would not add her voice
To any discourse, fearing the
Possible controversy of her
Thoughts. Contentious is not
Content nor contented. What
Would do in her circumstance
But to hold silent, to not voice 
The differences in their ideas

Two bridges

Convergence at a distance confuses 
The mind's eye, maybe even the eye
Plain and simple, although there is
Nothing simple [or plain] about it,
The eye is complex and complicated.
The bridges converging to the north
Merge and blend running at parallel 
Tracks and turns, the shapes and the
Angles unique, distinctly different, 
Each going its own way, whichever 
Road it follows in a swoop or a semi
Circle, straight or narrow, there's a
Twist too, but you are too far away
And the converging roads confuse

For good and all

The best is yet to come to those 
Who wait to see what the future
Will bring and where the road'll
Lead. I expect great things will
Await when you've waited and
You've seen. There's no measure
Of good that won't land on your
Plate. You've waited and stand
To get back what the wind blows
Back. Your heart is full; it's pure.
With all you've got, you'll get more
And more there'll be for you still
When you wait, see what's coming.

Officially, summer

It's day two or maybe 3 of
Summer. Officially. There
Isn't much change since the
Spring. Temperatures about
What they were in May, that
Merry month sayeth A Bard
And so many of us concur, I
Won't counter the description.
Where does that leave June,
A month full of frolic and the
Start of a solstice of heat and
Passion? June will lead us to
July as we go trippingly deep
Into the cycle of months until
Fall comes to whisk away the
Heat and bring us the falling
Leaves of autumn. Also an
Autumnal sadness but oh my
I love the fall and wait for the
Falling temperatures to clear
The air and bring a sweater
Chill. The autumn is sweet, a
Season for a transition likely
Towards the more serious of
Our thoughts. Meanwhile we
Are here in June anticipating
Swims and picnics and kites.

Every day

What do I see that, perhaps,
You don't? Where does my 
Eye or my mind wander that,
Perhaps, is off the track? Do
I cherish being unique or does
The phrase "that's different"
Suggest the faint praise and 
Deeper criticism I expect from
My errant behavior and wild
Thoughts. Do I crave the more
Staid? Do I want to be ordinary?
Is the conventional a hint for
My future? Will I succumb to
Traditional desires and embrace
The norm? Regular can trend;
The usual need not bore. I can
Bear my standard without it
Dragging me out to sea or off
The rails. Typical might intice.

Imagine

What will fire my imagination 
Today? Is there hope or love in
The skies to set it soaring high
With aspirations, winged in the
Flight but avoiding Icarus' fate.
Avoiding fire but being fired up,
Oxymoron upon oxymoron rings
In my ears or is it some other less 
Familiar trope begging recognition.
Imagination needs its recognition
Too. It leans on the familiar to find
Its trajectory before taking off, high
Or sometimes just skimming. Low
Is another plane, a surface where
Thoughts become ideas and our
Imagination ignites, soaring or
Skimming, avoiding flames but
Fired up with hope, torment, love.