Sea's Night Waves
Look upon the sea's night waves,
reflecting the charms we look for.
Mindful of the world we interpret,
from the beauty of this foaming shore.
See all of it and be overwhelmed,
or find that one strong glimmer.
Blow to it your lost lover's kiss,
as notes of nostalgia ebb dimmer.
We express that which breaks us,
as sea's waves mend rather than rust.
EaS
Unseen Layer
Cannonball steps batter the walls,
trees tremble hailing debris down.
Stones smashed dust fills the pitfalls,
halocline hall fills sky to ground.
Focus disentangles diurnal vine,
mute hike as opulent purveyor.
Indrawn sun sets silver cloud's shine,
restless to remain in unseen layer.
EaS
Shrapnel
The destruction of a devoted heart,
sends pain wave tremors spiraling.
A sharpened mist grinds every part,
unanswered questions start rioting.
Blasted debris spears everywhere,
stabbing deep what was finely right,
gores holes through thoughts of care,
slashes blood into the eyes of light.
Wounds press bleakness into a soul,
joyous days bleed maligned drops.
Bandages wrung red in rusted bowl.
Healing and solace seem flimsy props.
The ruptured displacing torn sprains,
quietly cure under tincture of tears.
A reviving heart wearily sustains,
ruined grins until the tempest clears.
EaS
She's fashioned from elysian birds,
tranquil spirit of alluring lore.
She stands poised and flows upwards,
Zephyr kissing Her wings to explore.
Her myriad wings She flies as one,
soaring high above a wistful dawn.
Her wisdoms drift under warming Sun,
sweetly listen before She's withdrawn.
EaS
Tryptophan Verse
Home steeps in aromas of autumn,
ambrosial quilt assures snug oven love.
Sweater helping day's gray cast soften,
each room held tender in family's glove.
Butter’s warm silk drawn in detailed seams,
in stuffing’s livened soft celery crunch,
on potatoes pondering gravy dreams,
and cavorts with corn of sweet Sun's hunch.
Turkey stoically settles before all,
succulent portions on paraded feast.
Juices, eggnog and dram of alcohol,
becalmed by yearly festival’s release.
EaS
-Happy Thanksgiving-
Teresa's Brick Oven Pizza & Cafe
Sidewalk highway rush on 51st,
same before me, similar after.
Lunch jam traffic braking is terse,
allowed time is attitude’s drafter.
Up to counter and catch some eyes,
“Who's next?!”, in quick nodding looks.
Wisdom marks the first without lines,
new order onto these knowing cooks.
“Next!”, hot slice needs little patience,
race to office with minor time loss.
Tomorrow’s drone, a similar cadence,
practiced prancing of organized chaos.
EaS
