My Eyes

island afar

Do my eyes deceive me or is there ahead

A place to have dwelling, to lay my bed

A time of rest and a shelter of tree

Or do my eyes deceive me?

 

Is yonder vision a heavenly grove

Where the waterfall mists with triumphant love

And in the lushest of gardens there

Where many stripes are stripped of care

Do I confess I’ve wondered where

Such a perfect boon might ever be

Or do my eyes deceive me?

 

It seems far off but within this tide

To look away seems like foolish pride

From this tropic where I’ll reside

My vision’s clarity can’t be denied

Coolness of river and orchards inside

Relief and pleasure therein supplied

 

And yet the sun burns harsher now

And the vision fades, gone with the shades

But I cling to the memory of how

I’m heading toward a wondrous place in the glades

It’s still out there in the blurried sea

Or do my eyes deceive me?

Fear

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Fear should lessen with age
But often it doesn’t
It seems the stuff of children
yet it fills the hearts of men

A child fears the dark
Because he suspects there’s something there
An adult fears it too
Because he suspects there is nothing

Wild fears age into mundane ones
But it is all loss and abandonment

“What if there is a monster?”
Means “Will no one save me?”
“What if I lose my house?”
Means the same

“What if I don’t know where to go?”
Means, “I fear I’m lost”
“Things just don’t seem to work out”
Means the same

There are many what if’s in fear
There must be, for they lack substance
Only what might or may
Never what is
There is no uncertainty with the tiger before your face
Only of the one that lurks in the dark

And yet fear is childish still
Though men and women adopt it
They practice conceit, yet the vice
Is no less childish because of it

There is only one object that should rightly be feared
And its fear should not age

Loss is not it.

Secure

Deluge

The skies cloud with rain and the Thunder shouts

His great battle cry from the lofty height

Water rises up and the Doubter doubts

The fierce North Wind blows with his icy might

 

But I am not troubled. I will not fear.

The One who fights for me is greater still

All blows will fall back on my foes’ own tier

Ev’rything must bend to His staunchest will

 

Uncertainty shows me that I must trust

I’ve learned that I’m stronger in face of pain

Poverty shows me that riches are dust

Deluge is no threat- I’ll dance in the rain

 

That which no one shall ever take from me

Is joy, for it is ever heavenly

There is Beauty

There is beauty in the night, but only

For the specks of light that pierce the darkness.

Stars redeem, a silver sheen, to show me

Subtleties in new light, without starkness.

 

There is beauty in winter, but only

For the warmth that remains to enliven.

If the frozen frost wins out utterly

Ice’s art has no one to survive in.

 

Oblivion’s comforts are false and faux

Saying that crash is the only release.

But now is not pleasant for having no

Strife, but for the presence of restful peace.

 

There is beauty in the silence, only

Because in stillness I may better hear.

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Ice and Clay

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They say that the same sun that melts the ice,

Hardens the clay. One spectacle, one star,

One to bless, one to mar, virtue and vice,

At the same artifice, shows who you are.

 

One will give up his shape in the bright rays,

How could he not? A heart of frost meeting,

The sun’s shiny greeting is overcome,

His shape and his self were always fleeting.

 

The other hardens and clings to his shape,

None can mold him, his resolute armor,

Will always honor his first form innate,

And will bake in scourge of day with ardor.

 

My prayer is that you would be water,

Fearless to lose yourself in awe of the majestic sun.

Idiomas Fantásticas

I love Spanish poetry. Most of it seems like prose to me, but nevertheless it is beautiful. It is my aim, today, to imitate some of the greats that I have read and loved. I hope you enjoy it. I will post a translation in English below the original, but, as always, it doesn’t quite do it justice.

 

Idiomas Fantásticas

Hoy.
Hoy es un día de los en que yo quiero gritar en una idioma fantástica
Pero no sé nada de esos
Sé una idioma romántica
Pues, escribo en la lengua de Barcelona, de Santiago, y de todos los corazones de los amantes que aman hoy.

En mi opinión, la alma de cada amante habla, implora, en español
Pero no entienden las palabras, mucha gente, porque apprendieron lenguas diferentes
Y estan dejado tratar entender sus corazones que solo pueden comunicar con gestos y sonidos vacuos

La cosa extraña es este:
Yo hablo la lengua de Barcelona, de Santiago, y de todos los corazones de los amantes que aman hoy
Y mucho del tiempo, no puedo distinguir las palabras de mi corazón del viento
Quizás mi corazon habla Francés

Debo aprender la Francés

 

Fantastical Languages

Today is one of those days when I want to shout in a fantastical language
But I don’t know any of those
I know a romantic language
Thus, I write in the language of Barcelona, of Santiago, and of all of the hearts of all of the lovers who love today

It is my belief that the soul of every lover speaks, pleads, in Spanish
But they don’t understand its words, many of them, because they learned different languages
And they are left trying to decipher empty gestures and sounds

This is the strange thing:
I speak the language of Barcelona, of Santiago, and of all the hearts of all the lovers who love today
And most of the time I still can’t distinguish the words of my heart from the blowing of the wind
Perhaps my heart speaks French

I should learn French.

Fourteen Lines

Writing a poem is a curious thing
I have just fourteen lines to make you feel
Something, anything, get you remembering
To look at words and receive something real

But there’s no time for an introduction
Or if there was it’s over and now I
…I want to take you back to the ocean
To that night you knew you loved, heard her sigh

To the days when you just felt so ashamed
Going from knowing the world adores you
To knowing that it hates you, feeling blamed
I need to stir memories, but rhyme, too

Yet I don’t have time to tell you you’re wrong
In both cases.  Fourteen lines, used and gone

 

Couple by the Ocean