in the mirror jaundiced eyes glower
thrush lift me not again in lyrical jape
to a cruel awakening of lobos baying
searching a blue moon’s mysteries
St. Johnstown and Cedar Creek haunt me
within their artifacts lie my fazing masters
only the lilies and climbing rose informed
interment’s secrets a play…curtain drawn
fool’s attempt a reach beyond the purview
of eternity’s swirling call to decaying ages
wherein lays the haunt of a man’s spirit?
granite and boundary trees expertly conceal
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captivating how strongly that blood stirs whenever revisiting
ancestral lands... for me, that would be providence, rhode
island & environs ;-)
a very fine write, poet!
peace & blessings,
carolyn
granite and boundary trees expertly conceal
... oh yes... that which is Peter Pan or Phantom Eagle within us is not confined by material boundaries or natural camouflage. The deep which calls to deep is no respecter of mere physicalities or temporal timeframes. This diction seems quite arcane and further heightens the known-unknown intrigue and dalliance. xx
Regis
You create an intense atmosphere from the very first verse and it's like an inner landscape behind a thick veil of mystery. Interesting the way you leave the reader in the middle of the riddle. :)
Axilea
Blessings,
Christine
The detail is excellent . I love how only the flowers know the secret. And yet there is heaps more .
Wonderful work my friend.
Blessings,
Christine
I am scanning pictures from the time of my mother's birth. Fresh out of a log cabin, without electricity and no lawn, my grandparents' farm shows the scars of lumbering and wood-burning, while the surrey lies unused in favor of forever muddy Model Ts.
Ron
Lady Vivian
beating a poet's response to surroundings
that are personally meaningful and felt deep within;
this work could be several times its present length
but that's beside the point in effect for it
stands perfectly as it is.
Jon, My Friend - yes!
John
Love Tinka