we who are wearywe who were afraid of those dim evenings,homesick for the soft rains which werenever ours,are uncertain again ofthe waning stroke of the moon.we who embrace the wickedleave the seasons to maneuver themselvesand wind into each other,sure of their graceful oblivion.we who are weary descend,following our fingers as they are rising,risingfollowingescapingthe thick air before it can kill,we who were once war personified,worn down,wornwarn them of our great coming.and we shall not run,but walk.
Snow's GripWatch the world narrow,To a field of white,Nothing to be seen,But the snow's tight grip,The color fades,To shades of gray,And the white, white glow,Of a field of snow.
Winter PoemThe snow is fallingCovering the ground in white fluffCold but quietBeautiful and soothingSnuggling with loved oneDrinking hot cocoa by the windowDecorating the tree with the kidsHaving dinner with family on Christmas eveWishes being fulfilled on Christmas dayWorld peace for a 24-hour timeChildren playing in the cotton white groundOpening gifts and sharing sweetsSitting by the fireDog sleeping by your sideKitten purringBy the window side"Winter time is beautiful"I think as I kiss my Katy"I love you all my friends"I say as I hug Lillian
Winter ComethA fortnight since the last rainIt's been only snow since thenSince Winter unsheathed her shine-sleek spearAnd thrusted it into the earth below,And shook her to the core, with fits and shiversThe permafrost-bound plants- they beg for release,But they faint, to awaken in the spring.A fortnight, it's been, since the reign of the Sun,Her Eyes gazing over our land,But since then, the ice steals the light from soulsWeary travelers lost in the desert of Winter's Wrath.Unending dunes of glaciers on land.Their chipped claws lie scattered atop the frozen green.A fortnight, it's been, since those summer days were lostWe feel no more pain, for we know nothing else.We are damned to die, within this glacial prison.There is no salvation, inside or out.Even our goddess- who dances across the sky by day-Sleeps beneath a cover of darkness, and will do so forever.Winter cometh to strike us againGoodbye, my children.Goodbye, my friends.We are the last of our kind,Locked away in t
risen.A glimpse of godswallowing the sun
Scale Splotched (DFC 2014)In curling branches, frayed red ribbon blows;splotchy scales in dark pond slip out of sight.In night-painted sky, only the moon knowsowls watch, hooting calls--fish in soft light.Twitching long feathers, they fall one by one;snatching quick breakfast, owls on the run.Red ribbon above pond, empty in sun.
Life of mist / Viata din ceataEnglish:I see the life of mistits silentious murmurthe breath that dancesin illuminated patchesThe corner of urban disconnectionIt's a bird's flightCaressing tranceWithin the life of mistThat surrounds usHere, we are everywhere,Disintegrated wholeWe sway in the mistWe are a universe,With suns that danceWith us, fireflies,Hyperactivity in the bonesBecause we seeThe life of mistRomana:Vad viata din ceataMurmurul silentiosSuflarea ce danseazaIn bucati de luminaColtul deconectarii urbaneE zbor de pasari,Transa ce mangaieIn viata cetiiCe ne invaluieAici, suntem peste tot,Intregi dezintegrati,Ne leganam in ceataSuntem un universCu sori ce danseazaCu noi, licurici,Hiperactivitate in oasePentru ca vedemViata din ceata
Paper CranesTo take to the starsOn weightless wings of gilded treesThat never failAnd never cease;A rapid continuum of beauty,Dusk’s rays diffusing through the firmamentBringing cerulean licked midnight greys on crest.Twinkling eyes to light their predestined pathBlinking only when a cloud passes by.They shiver and twitch…The metal hands of tinkerous manWrapped lovingly around their fragility.The room is seeping with anticipationWhen placed one by one on the sill.They shiver and twitch…Shiver;Twitch;Fold;Wings bend on delicate creasesTesting limitations with quick mischievous flapsThe moon casts her spell on the windowsillLuring in the essenceIlluminating the thousand works of artBefore they rise into the expectant nightTo take to the stars
Apples and Ghosts (DFC 2014)Leaves: a patchwork quilt mosaicking like autumn, thin.Thin ghosts haunt barren trees, watching summer leave.Take a risk, wind--blow rust like bruises across branches,branch out for the world to beat down and keep taking.Apple skins bare the marks of your love in leopard spots.Spots on the breeze, half-lost ghosts, and cast-away apples.
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