The Raven final

The Most Wonderful Day

With a yawn the next morn

All cozy and warm

He opened his eyes

A young fellow was born.

The bedroom was painted

A wintery blue

From the winterly glow of the window, he knew!

He jumped out of bed

His heart skipped a beat

He never had been quite so quick to his feet.

He scurried ahead

With no time to waste

And slid with his socks just to pick up some haste!

His window arrived

So he peeked through the screen

And the world had been decked with a Christmassy gleam!

A smile in his eye

From such a bold shift

He was thanking the night that had passed for this gift.

With everything covered

All sparkling and proud

And through the air fell, bits and pieces of cloud.

A grin at full stretch

And his chest in a flurry

Dressed toasty and warm, and he dressed in a hurry

Running down stairs

He could barely keep calm

Opened the front door and then poof, he was gone!

Out in the field

Old man winter had whistled

And on his breath swirling, were magical crystals

They fell from the sky

They fell to the ground

Hovering gently and making no sound

Walking on air

As they fell from above

He outstretched his arm to catch some in his glove

Tiny white flakes

With a silver blue tint

And none that had fell on his glove found a twin

With cold rosy cheeks

That found him a grin

The boy did not know just where to begin!

He scooped at the ground

To mold with his hand

A snowball to throw as far as he can

But just as he flung

His ball in the air

His mom called his name, it just wasn’t fair!

He frowned for a second

And the smiled because

He just had remembered just what day it was!

He ran to his mom

And she gave him a kiss

She smiled at her son and said “Merry Christmas”

With presents to come

And the world made of clay

It was going to be the most wonderful day!

Muffled Applause

The muffled applause

Of raindrops

Served to massage

My window pane

As the glass wept

In a somber world

Black and white

Silver and blue.

There was a glow

In its silver sky

That the world

Always tried to mimic,

But everything knew its

Place, and everything

Wept.

Cars on the street

Perspired as they

Skated on grey haste,

And silver people

Dry and safe within,

All in a race.

All in a chase.

Like airborne droplets

Fighting the wind

To meet their own certain

Demise.

The muffled applause

Of raindrops

Sewed itself

To the back of my neck

As it rested

On this prickly bag of feathers.

It cooled the flame

Within my chest

And lullabyed

My eyes

To escape the

Silver lined

World.

--poem for a children's book

Wasteland

Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought death had undone so many. 63
Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled, 64
And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine. -T.S Eliot

Bird Field Guide, Watercolor & Ink

Glimpse

Yesterday I saw a

Wild spark

As it punctured a hole

In the fabric of time and space.

That was when we caught a

Glimpse.

Clear as day

From the corners of our

Eyes

Escaping our peripherals

To reach right below

Our noses.

Solidifying into a

Hologram.

Such a Trick!

Beautiful and profound shape

Brilliant and distant

Like a winter dawn.

We watched the sun slip behind

The other side of the earth.

Drunken with comfort

Sobered by time

Thousands of miles away.

Only inclined to indulge

In this new beginning

That cannot begin.

But only end

Abrupt. Shut.

Eyes.

Wise byes.

But how long

does it take for sparks

To burn out

And do they leave

A mark?

Aura Held

I once had a gem
in the palm of my hand.
It sat neatly in the middle
Right next to the line
That is said to determine life.
Expectancy.

Helpless little gem
Victim of a cold gust
venting from the bowels of the North
to thrust it from my palm
and in between the jagged black lines
that had been life's own art.
On cold pavement.

Between the canyon walls
Black lives solitude.
now disrupted by
Starlight.

Into the abyss exists
a gleam of light
Emanating from a lost gem.
A gleam in the pupil
of my mind's eye.
the Blindside.

There's a vacuum in a noodle
of my brain
for which no day can
Articulate escape.
Cave
Crevice.

Drips Stalag-gia
Nuestra Nostalgia
Never ours.
Never?

Hours, never
Days, never
Months, severed.
A mere 12, precisely.
Withered, weathered.
Slithered Past, like a river's Current.

Now a glass aparition,
But only in my eyes
And down to my diaphram
a diagram of after thoughts.

Never to be thought of after.

On a park bench
after dark, after
the purple and crimson
Tide of day dripped its paint
to taint the dirty water.
After the tide of day retreated behind,
decending below skyscrapers
just beyond the rocky banks
of the Riverside.
There was music in her smile.

I was a child,
We were infant.
Infinite fine night!
Finite.

If my face is blank
then leave me be!

Once a sight to see.
An aurora's shell
Your Aura Held,

I roared and yelled!
Goodbye.