Through a glass darkly – to Picasso’s “Girl Before A Mirror”

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Toe to toe

against the glass

face to foe

turned calm caress

that bitter wind

cares carefully less

breaking sundered sight

that blurs unbidden

and shakes tonight

staring sharply across

piercing into you

remembering your loss

prevalent eyes disguised

and deemed unseen

in darkness hides

leaving shadows cast

out of Eden

fallen far past

the lies told

with silver bows

and biting cold

for your dismiss

she bends your

gazes away amiss

an inner shame

feelings that forget

your new name

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An Acrostic for Emily’s Soul

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Some of us live

with impressive letters that

throw hills over underaged

towers of slippery slopes

all grating against illa nocte.

 

But you

jest us so tacitly

singing us cold harmony

and

hiding a zeal above raw destiny.

 

Heavy underneath new dreams rallying, each desiring substance,

halted and vaulting, entwining

loads of stolen talents

into nets, danger enveloping each dread.

 

Broken under trust,

the evangels now sing,

“Hallelujah! Amen! Veritas eternitas!”

with one naked

and nebulous

and lasting laud.

 

Angels now glorify each little soul

breathing rest entreated along to heroes left enquiring, seeking still

by a lamp’s light over today.

 

Laughter’s ingenious noise grows ever regal, soaring

to overtures

reaching each chord of roaring depth

to heights embracing elegance.

 

I may pass still

into negligence,

engaging a great eagerness, resenting

care and useful caution under succulence.

 

Rolling and falling for left endeavors,

fixed on regretting

my youth,

sold out unto lust.


 

Scarr’d

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sometimes I itch

inside

below the surface

skin hides

the hound’s claw and

his bite

marks that make me

grip tight

beholding bleakly

this night

which numbs my sense of

riptide

set to drown my

insight

to the wrong and what

is right

buried in simple

bliss like

autumn acorns

 

but they are mine and

who knows

what kind of when its

bloom grows

where once it flowered

blue rose

and why it cowered

dew shows

how light still glistens

truth glows

upon these etchings

few chose

but many gained from

doom throes

that did not pay their

due though

it left its marks cut

through bone

reminding me

 

I know you not who

left me

caught and caged and

bled three

years of living

deadly

and like to fall with

red feet

and bloody hands that

fret we

let them in our

heads clean

and sober until

set free

by hands that loved and

blessed He

cleansed my hands and

kept me

from forgetting

Remember

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facing the wilderness

waves underfoot

calling out beauty

whose name is remember

from the sea

and starlight

shining in darkness

 

here there are great giants

in these hills

and shadows that roam in the flesh

but greater still

are the fruits of faith

 

to which avails

the fisherman

who steps in

with both feet planted

upon the rock

unseen beneath

the trembling water

Stressing the end

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I know nothing too early and never too late

but blatant significance causing sincere

departures from sanitized reasoning fear

 

Yet frustrated facing the fast-pacing year

I find myself longing the steadier gait

of a past wrought in trial with triumph as bait

 

To move on through these half-numbered days as they leer

desponded, distracting, held down by the weight

of the numberless tasks which must be done by eight

 

So then turn me lest one side grow numb in the wait

and chase from the other cheek pains of the tear

or full stop the blind spots through which our souls peer