Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Old Lace

Treasured legacy,
Laughter and love like old lace
Woven in my soul.

Friday, November 25, 2011

The Fisherman and the Mermaid

They meet where words are drowned
In wave-crashed pools.
She reaches out to him, silent
While hook-cut hands
Navigate her body, sculpting
An ocean-pulse merger of worlds,
A liminal love, now
Newly moon glazed.

Siren song floods the night
As lips and hands
Weave enchanted bliss. She
Shapes their dance with
Tide-flow rhythms;
A slippery warp and weft
Which he perceives
As heartbeats, echoed.
Thus it is so:

He mistakes passion
For longing, the wind
For her sighs,
Wet kisses for love until
She is called by the stars,
Back into the deep.
Dawn finds him dew-clad,
Dream-haunted by something
Rich and strange, but
The only thing he remembers
Is the taste of salt.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

IMO Anne McCaffrey

I've never posted juvenilia before, but that's what I am going to do now, as today marks the passing of Anne McCaffrey, author of the well-loved "Dragonsinger" series.

Like many others, I was utterly enthralled by those books. They taught me a lot about courage and community, about living joyfully and about the rewards of working hard towards a goal. They often provided a welcome respite from the trials of youth, but the foray into the fantastical wasn't simply about escapism. In her books I also found role models that left me with an ingrained sense of strong female heroine, long before I had ever heard those three words strung together. Important stuff, that.

And those books prompted me to write poems, even though I only had a rudimentary idea of what poetry actually was at that time. In retrospect, I was writing fanfic, long before that label was coined. I'm sure I'm not the only one that was so inspired ~ there will be many songs resounding through the halls tonight in McCaffrey's honor, and much praise for the legacy that she has left behind.

RIP, dear author. Your stories were the shining stars of my childhood.

Of lands of old and days untold and masterharpers singing,
Located all in harper hall, the tower bells are ringing.
Where masters teach the children young,
The songs and how they should be sung,
And those are picked with careful eye
To ride the dragon through the sky.
With fire lizards blue and gold,
They live with music 'til they're old.
Their fingers deft, their voices sweet,
A greater sound you'll never meet,
Than those who young were taught the craft,
Though they worked hard, they also laughed,
And brought the news in form of song
So something new is going on
For those who lived across the land.
They sang the song from sand to sand
And lived their lives without a fear
Knowing they could always hear
A ballad, song or saga soon
Or barring that, they'd write a tune
To greet the multitude of ears
And carry through the many years.
I wish I lived back in the time
Of flying free and music fine.

Friday, November 18, 2011

The Last Leaf

Autumn displays its wares;
A shameless foliate spread
Of gold and cinnamon gems and
Flirty sprays of ochre and amber
In seductive abundance.

There’s red in there too;
Shades of love and blood
That fade into russet temptations
Waving coyly along
With their showy orange sisters.

The spectrum changes daily;
A shifting pallet
Of light and shadow
So enchanting
That the wind cannot resist
The playground of colors.

Limb by limb,
It lover-rustles its way
Through the wood,
Breeze intent on
Passion-crazed caress,
False fingers lingering,

Until it shapes the branches
Into twisted nakedness;
A blustery skeleton dance
Of rebirth in waiting
As the last betrayed leaf
Spirals down into ghosthood.

Friday, November 11, 2011

Out of the Night

Waves murmur,
Tumble, swell and tease,
As twilight falls upon the beach.
Dusk slowly weaves a subtle spell
Of brine and bliss
And timelessness
 Into a sea-wrapped kiss
Of spiral gleams and mermaid dreams.
An old enchantment, this one is;
The sweet caress
Of secret things,
And fingertips
Of breeze-brought myth and
Promises the darkness brings.
 Forgotten tales steeped in delight;
Out of the night,
The ocean sings.