The dark of night envelopes me in clouds of pain I
cannot bear
Pain that’s like an old companion whose ugly fashion
I won’t wear
Or bow beneath its will to tame me or yoke me
in its wide scope
I’m not a hostage in its grasp who’s doomed
to suffer without hope
I’ll fight the way that God has shown
with prayers of faith that my lips sing
While angel arms save and guard me
and carry me upon their wing.
It seems to me the infant child
Imbues the world with his sly smile
The helpless babe in slumber lies
Yet woos you with his half- closed eyes,
The fragile hand that reaches out
To grasp your nose can leave no doubt
That here in one small bundle grows
The dearest gift that mankind knows.
How can you pluck even the smallest weed
That does spring and grow from the meanest seed
Whose path whistled on the wind’s sowing song
Whence carried to earth’s bed and there belonged?
Now we’ve called them each by some awkward name
And we’ll stunt their spread or we’ll make them tame.
A weed is a whisp of unwanted fare
That lives by a road when others won’t dare.
It covers a meadow that grass will shun
Or bides in a spot that greets not the sun.
Weeds are a blessing in myriad ways
Craftily seen on the plainest of days,
Flaunting their garb with a bit of aplomb
At times when even the bees cease to hum.
A weed’s like a thought that fear can’t destroy
Using up space that none else will employ,
Forcing us all to encounter some things
We’d sooner forget life’s mutiny brings.
Somewhere I saw a smiling face
Somehow I can’t recall the place
And once I heard sweet laughter’s ring
Too late I learned a heart could sing.
I thought I grasped time’s fleeting hour
And bent its course unto my power
I knelt upon a meadow’s grass
And begged of God my fears would pass.
Once more I looked into the sky
With hope that faith would guard my eye
I prayed so hard and chance forgot
That some have peace and some have not.
I wished upon each falling star
To reach for love but not too far
I prayed that days would swiftly flee
And timeless grace might bide with me.
I wished so hard and then I saw
A clearer view much as before
Of all my flaws and then I knew
Mistakes I‘ve made as we all do.
I listened to the sound of bumblebees at play
While the muted echo of caterpillars’ sway,
Subtle and seductive, lent a special whistle
To the singing reeds where hid a dancing thistle.
The clamor of the wind where hungry leap frogs strayed
Mid grass alive with noise when all their eggs were laid,
Made unvenal chorus, too vibrant and alive
Like a blaring trumpet I thought I’d not survive,
Then with one rousing movement and crescendo rise
Hungered for the silence to follow my demise.
At mornings there are times when I
Upon my couch, rejected lie,
And ponder o’er the many schemes
That filled my days and were my dreams.
I spied a bird that paused in flight,
He battled not with conscience‘ might.
I climbed a tree that was so tall
And cried because my aims were small.
I heard a song that had no tune
And wished upon some waning moon
To be a bird and restless fly
Against God’s canvas of the sky.
There, seek to find another day
Or mayhaps learn the better way
To fill my life with keener zest,
Perform great deeds before my rest.
I will to you this last reply
To neither question nor deny
That days of man are wasted spent
To wonder where his lifetime went,
Whereas each bird doth leave behind
Abundant seed the rain will find.
Fearful and crushed are those saddened lives
Whose trembling hope pale agony survives
While those I know I cannot change or cure
Must forge their path along some way secure.
I find my life’s been challenged by the lights
And winnowed by the shades of shallow nights
Nights spent alone there wrapt in reverie
Midst lights of wisdom, shades of destiny.
Regarding this I pray my faith’s been sealed
Since many a lost promise has been healed.
While I may grasp this chance of happiness
And conquer all the woes which bar success
I find myself adrift upon a sea
Of senseless waste and hapless energy.
I’m weary of the endless battle now
I long for rest to garner strength somehow
And pray that God will shelter me once more
Ere I shall haste to latch one final door.
I have built myself a fortress not made of mortar and stone
Its windows draped in make- believe, doorposts hung with hope unflown.
I’ll dwell in this castle forever that’s built aside a hill
To blanket those sounds of reality lingering cold and chill.
The walls are painted with laughter as mellow as morning light
And the floors are set with marble in various moods of bright.
I’ve cushioned each lonely settle with pillows that sing out loud
And brought in a bit of heaven that rests above like a cloud,
I’ve garnered inside with flowers to bring the outdoors within
Assured when the winds of time blow bold my sunshine will begin.
Each room has a view of a garden with pine trees ever tall
Shutters to bar the sight of the things I refuse to recall.
I may bide in this place till never, safe from the outside pain
Like a child in storybook fashion who yearns to try again.
There are small sounds that fill my mind with thoughts that soar
While minute, so bold they challenge any ocean’s roar.
They’re sounds that only love can heal or kindness teach
When strength’s beyond the deepest place one heart can reach.
These sounds of silence fall too soft on hollow ears
But speak more plainly than the eloquence of tears.
That last sound , the labored breathing of one adored,
The closing sigh which signifies he’ll come no more,
These are the sounds that will confuse a lifetime much
And leave an empty void that only time can touch.
Petals falling from a rose to the garden bed,
Tight laughter that issues forth when goodbye is said,
That stirring of the pulse with heartbeat quickening
Unbidden, heralding each pains awakening
Or hushed darkness of the night now moving slowly
While the rush of the wind in mid-flight moans lowly,
Some weeping sounds which from the tearful heart are wrung
As sounds of chanted mass are in a choir sung.
These have lingered in the air with hope awaiting
Within our lives , some restful aim contemplating.
Hence hearken to those sounds declaring time’s ending
With all the consequence of old thoughts attending.
Acknowledge, in the distance, one trumpet crying
Both man and beast in manner like are soon dying.
Then understand the difference that love has made
And in that final moment, hear an accolade.
There are no words to help explain
My God, how I do love the rain.
These feelings that surge deep within
Which from the depths inside begin
Are tonic to my ailing verve
And power grant these gods I serve.
The thought occurs often tragic
That life slips by without magic.
Grubbing bird, hungry chick rejoice
While mist and I till dawn converse.
I could not live in climate dry
With nought to hide the fears I spy,
Impatient thoughts laced with chagrin
That weigh the scope of origin.
This rain that falls in rhythmic beat
Upon each valley, hill and street
And every other breathing thing
Elate that sweet refreshment bring.
Gone the fit of winter rigor
Greet the sudden rainfall’s vigor
Pause while earth accepts the blessing
Needing drink with grace caressing.
To each and every dying thought
Since man to life has hoping brought,
Neglected aims, now wilted grown
Feel with the rain, excitement known
Shall store away resentment’s girth
Believe that time may force rebirth
Oh little star that shines alone
On lonesome dark and friendless night,
Oh sprightly sprig that blossoms forth
With nary other buds in sight,
Oh tiny bird that chirps a song
When all his friends are fast in flight,
Oh warming wind with gentle breath
That sings an air with dawn’s delight,
Have you ever looked beyond night
Into the early morning’s glow?
Have you ever smelled the incense
On the hill where staunch violets grow?
Have you ever heard ceaseless sound
Where gushing streams trickle and flow?
Have you ever felt springtime’s rain
Driven with an incessant blow?
This is the heritage of March
Impudent harbinger of spring
That sallies forth in manner rude
Yet bearing April on the wing
And so bold and harsh seducer
Ever brusquely keep refraining
Release that cold and chilly grip
Thus end winter’s will sustaning.
In all the obligation that one’s duty brings
Exists some meager wish that sighs and hopes and clings,
There weigh the loss which from the smallest niche inside
Abides with desperation soundly hid by pride.
Still dwells the waning hope that chance yet rages bold
Though wintered in the ort that’s left of growing old.
In manner chaste I find my quiet hours are sown
Within the palest veil of all I’ve ever known
Where image of the past that with distress was wrought
Some untamed soul within the net lies careless caught.
Since unshed tears oft lurk behind the tracing of a smile
Self-contemplation ought display the hushed façade of guile
While quiv’ring hand and timid step by age and time impaired
Mask vestiges of dignity God graciously has spared.
The chill of winter stealthy, stealing quick away,
Escaping silently in seeming speed dismay,
The frost dripping from the bough, weeping to the ground
Continues on with steady unrelenting sound,
Those winter tears fast filling every hustling stream
And rapid moving, hasten on with each sunbeam,
Poor naked tree who wearing not a patch of green
Prepares to face her mentor, spring, with garb obscene,
The night fog hangs like halos woven through the limbs
The sight of which, the heart to overflowing brims,
The crumbling walks and walls, the bitter freeze has fought,
Like brittle cardboard castles in a tempest caught,
And tumbling, rising, broken, crouch in disarray
While fallen branches, victim of another day,
Await the woodman’s axe and to woodpile retire
Until next year, once more to feed the warming fire.
Bold winter ushered in with such a lusty roar,
Now slithers past in fashion, circumstance deplore,
Such manner doth bear false witness to his power,
That legacy granting spring its proper dower,
Each year this pattern vital, steadfast, must repeat,
For life to winnow and the season’s term complete.
Like talcum dusted on the ground
Unwelcome sight this morning found.
Those violets dozing on the hill
Awoke to winter’s caustic chill.
And just when nature seemed aright
It crept upon us in the night
Surprising us with springtime snow
And chilling winds that dared to blow.
The swirls fell down in gentle heaps
To linger where the crocus sleeps.
I walked among the frightened blooms
And wished I had a world of rooms
To shelter every tender waif
That seeks someplace to keep him safe.
Time needs a friend when life is cold
And love needs hope as dreams grow old.
Each lonely blossom free from fear
Will flower with a joyous cheer
To flourish in the sunshine’s kiss
And value life’s eternal myths
That promise spring will give new birth
To scores of seeds that earn their worth.
Wistful windows that long for strangers in the night,
Restless dreams lust to capture fantasy in flight,
Illusion contriving all rank of rebellion
And prowling, seeks other pastures hither and yon.
Restful spaces in which the heart can love again
Belong not just to imagery, vivid or plain,
When leaving love behind, one closes many doors
Breaching other vistas fair caprice explores.
To keep a steady grasp on sensibility
Frequently becomes a friendless calamity,
There are spans when fears rise, increase and terrify
And striving as we might, all judgement nullify,
Direction appears elusively to transit,
Then to find ourselves lost and in our grief expand it.
The gentle soul with sacrifice that seems insane,
The loving heart that begs consistency in vain,
Take heed, those apertures yawn widely in and out
We may overcome them, if we can conquer doubt.
Thus do not cry, venture bids one to try once more
And seeking, find that life and love, as was before.
Forsake thoughts that abide with mock serenity,
Visions of affairs that end in obscenity,
And travel in the realm of never-ending hope,
Of all the lessons taught, the best, learn how to cope.
Therese of the Flowers will you help share my load,
May we walk hand in hand by the side of the road?
Can you tarry with me along time’s weary way,
Will you grant me some peace in each troublesome day?
As I bid you good morn, please smile kindly at me
Till my worrisome life in the end is set free.
In the hush of night’s dark when we two softly speak
I sense tears in your eyes and a flush on your cheek.
Oh little Therese as you wait silent and still
I can guess that you’ve tasted life’s cold and death’s chill.
Have pity on me, ease the dull hours of my days
With your sweetest of prayers in the smallest of ways.
Therese of the Flowers help me carry my load
As we walk hand in hand by the side of the road,
You may tarry with me along time’s weary way
Till we rest in God’s arms at the end of His day.
You shout that life is not complete
That all you try meets with defeat,
That everytime you stand up tall
Somebody pushes and you fall,
And yet whenever I have said,
“Please try again.” you shake your head
And vow tomorrow’s not the day
For you to find another way.
I wonder if you had the chance
You’d even take a second glance,
I think the problem’s not that fate
Has passed you by or come too late,
I’m now convinced that you don’t care
About the things we give and share.
It’s why you halt and will not see
You can’t accept that failure’s free.
Help me Lord, to understand life’s complexity
Teach me world, to use my mind with dexterity
Lead me faith, to courage tempered with tolerance,
Heal me time, with slow patience born of forbearance
Guide me truth, to wisdom laced with curiosity
Show me wonder, how to feel with deep intensity,
Guard me love, from anger displayed with impudence
Force me heart, to exhibit love shared with prudence.
Oftimes when I am lying at my ease
Upon some chaise as quiet as you please
Along the sandy shore that comforts me
With warming winds beside the restless sea
I contemplate the peace that aging brings
While bearing wisdom on its learned wings.
Asleep beneath the stars and moon above
Under the spell of some enduring love
And there the beauty that I sought and knew
Still shimmered and spun the whole night through
While God Himself seemed to smile on us all
By spreading His blessings both large and small.
I look upon a leafy bed
And wonder why the leaves are dead,
I look upon a stormy sky
And wonder why the birds won’t fly,
I see a tired human face
And wonder if he takes up space,
I question whether time grows old
And why the length of love must mold,
Why flowers turn to face the sun
Then disappear when growing’s done.
The simple ways still seem the best
They supercede the foolish rest,
Perhaps with years we’ve come to know
That fortune follows as we sow.
Though oft I’d sought another place
And sometimes thought I’d lost the race,
Faint melody soon pricked my ears
And cast aside my hidden fears.
Now lately, as my life turns round
And echoes with its closing sound,
One grateful thought does fill my mind,
With age, my passion waxes kind.
I’ve spent this life as best I knew
And lived my hopes as dreamers do,
I’ve known the world the wishful see
And bless my fate that now I’m free.
The swiftly graying darkly coursing sky
Does play upon my fickle inner eye
And bares a mystery both stark and bold
That speaks to me of long lost dreams untold.
These dreams I thought had flown so far away.
Yet seeming near, had somehow lost their way.
Some fringed and faded shadows left behind
Shedding aged reflection as they unwind
What had once been I recognised anew
And purpose wrought with aim and course so true.
The passion in my heart that won’t decline
A hungry yearning that I can’t define
The dreaming in my mind that cannot fade
A hard decision that I have not made
The longing in my soul that will not wane
A quest for meaning that I’ve failed to gain.
And there among the past that wastes away
Find sad remains of yet another day
One unknown force that placed the founding stone
Has willed this legacy to us alone.
There in the night with truth possessed and sown
Who by their fruits at last shall they be known.
I watched a star and saw it fall,
I felt the wind and heard it call,
I reached for sky and touched a tree,
I spied a bird, it flew past me.
I smelled a bud not yet full grown
I tread the grass the rain had sown.
I wished upon a mountain’s peak
That God might teach my tongue to speak.
I knew my way and yet was lost
I took the time, the risk, the cost,
Still all the laudits I have earned
And all the lessons I have learned
With all the things that I may do
Are much too small and far too few.
Wherever you look this world is shaded in green dye
From the forest’s floor clear to a rainbow in the sky,
A verdant place live with the miracle of God’s care
Plush valleys, woodlands and mountains that rise in the air.
What is green? I know that its not these roads that I trod
But the friendly gardens I pass that wave me a nod,
The blazoned grass in the fields and the oak when it’s young,
The trees that cover each grove with their seed as they’re sprung,
Grasshopper’s in flight emitting sounds that echo and hum,
No, not the air that we breathe but the source that it’s from.
Green’s my favorite color and the color of pine
Like the stem of each flower and the stalk of each vine,
The crest of each hill that’s burdened with blossoms it blows,
The fruits of the orchard and the tall corn as it grows,
Solemn moss upon a rock that betrays not its age,
A bird’s chorus sung from a branch, the air as its stage.
What is green? The deep of the sea, the heart of a palm
The chant of the willow’s sweep like the words of a psalm,
Caterpillars at birth and the new bud of a rose,
The youth of a man, the lid of his grave at its close,
The rigid eyes of a cat while its vigil will keep
In silence watching some prey, seeming lulled into sleep,
And there, like vespers in the wind that scatters its seeds
Fast being held in the grasp of life’s swift spreading weeds
Tiny sprouts that protrude through the wet earth after rain
Are now promising me hope that the green will remain.
While the green of an emerald possesses great worth,
The best of life’s green is bound to the crust of the earth
Be glad that green’s the one color we cannot replace
It relieves the monotony of blacks, browns, and grays.
There are times the sadness of this life is overbearing
While our days are spent without the hope of ever sharing
Such a painful thought of never truly comprehending
Why and if there is to be a simpler happy ending.
Those cherished values scorned by raving heretics amused
Hold faithful to a code that waits discarded and abused.
These unsung heroes thus having forged our destiny
Awaken from the sleep that took them to eternity
Engaging in a task so powerful it never ceases
Leaving us employed in scooping up the tattered pieces.
Waves of all the talents that marked our yesterdays
By those who earned the right to claim a share of glory’s praise,
“ Fidelity” a word once hopeless lost among the rules
Now challenged by this useless cadre of important fools !
Sifting through the ashes of a
bitter burning ember
Of forgotten days that time is
dying to remember
Where winter thoughts demand their
silence softly to be heard
Like some feint storm that rages on
appearing now absurd,
To leave one faithful moment here
that truth can realize
There bearing in its icy grip
lost dreams of paradise,
An everlasting steadfast ghost
of hope that went astray
To carry on its battered wings
past thoughts of yesterday.
Gladly, this new day rises with a lemon-colored sun,
Spreading its fan with fingers of light, their journey begun
The early dawn painting water colors across the sky,
Running rampant in a kaleidoscope mornings apply.
Buds tumbling o’er each other in a circus of display
Assailing the senses with sights and sounds in bold array.
A blessing to have left behind the dark sadness of night,
Too full, with all its gloom pervading length and depth and height.
And life’s cycle begins again, its merry youth slender,
So clear and clean, healing breath, new hopes and dreams engender.
The fog slips in like a shroud eclipsing the panorama
of the mountain’s sides
Where life is as a winging that must soar above the pall
or suffer all it hides.
Some context of this vast unchartered wilderness which
is the confines of my heart
And breeches o’er those valleys, there within the depths
of ignorance that was my start,
Has brought to me upon its beaten breast a shallow
consciousness of what I am
That whistles on the winds of plains wherein reside both
king of beasts and gentle lamb.
There time itself will bare the seed that lives with joy
or dies alone in discontent
As it fulfills an aim that is the longing of the soul or
of the mind, intent.
To move with space and wander in its bright expanse
beneath the sky where mood began
There, confirming this great world is an elegant cushion
for the footfalls of man
And as such must cradle his intense wish to dream and
hope and love and laugh and cry,
For man without one dream is a garden that never blooms
and does not wonder why.
Do you hear the falling rain
Splashing on the window pane
Pelting down in steady beat
Muddy junction where they meet,
Earth and water, lake and sand,
Awesome plight, begging command?
Have you felt a day so bare
Graying sky and whining air,
Bending boughs groaning distress,
Swaying trees blend with the rest?
Not a structure stands aloof
“ Pitter-patter,” cries the roof,
Eave and peak pleading complaint,
Rocky walls bulge with restraint,
Rivers rising where they fall
Protruding ledges cover all
Cringing creatures, great or least
Strangely silent, bird and beast.
Observe the stark windblown trees
Squirrels darting neath their leaves
Their endless chatter ceasing
With nature’s wrath increasing.
A strength and power display
Nothing secret in the way
These bold torrents need unload
Earth and gravel in the road,
Rushing paths fast pursuing
Shallow roots, loss ensuing,
Surging on now fast then slow,
Mid the turmoil as they flow,
Rivlets running to the sea
These lifeless remnants carry.
Have you known a day so bleak
Taking toll, the mild and meek?
Like the tempest of the mind
Fate attacks the just and kind,
Simple creatures fail the test,
Leaving judgement to the rest.
Claire V. Bogdanos 