sinews of city
in the hour of sunrise
find veneration
From my books City of Pawns and Riverthink
stones suspended in air
final passage for
secular sinners
in quail of departing
from all that is beautiful
sounding their last sobbing
breaths of contrition
their last rueful look at
pained visions of lives
barely dreamed
never lived
too late for a rectitude
leaving vain squander
en route to an airless
and deathless ignominy
bleak are the endings
imagined while crossing
from palace to prison
indifference expressed
by the masonry sentinels
mascaron faces who
watch life and love
pass beneath the despair
upon waters the doge
has commanded to flow
serene lifeblood in
day to day course of
enlightened republic
ingenious canalways
that temper the tides
wash the unsettling sound
of these sighs
out to sea
blood ruby crystal
embellished by goldsmiths
vessels serenely
decant sighs of Christendom
doges and popes once imbibed
(originally posted January 2014)
stained glass skies
lovers’ light
paints their promises
hushed liquid lanes
carry vespers on
hours of evening
soft whispering
maritime breezes
speak centuries
into a chorus of
stucco and stone
quiet colors of
history blending
with hopes for a
future of hearts
still stylish with youth
and its passions
a fusion of water
of land and of sky
with those yearnings
as timelessly human
as life in itself
rain runnels
luring my ducks
from their pond
into downsized
Venetian canals
while the doge
dry within his
New England
palazzo
looks pleased
(originally posted June 2013)
islets of glass
gently rise from
a princely lagoon
home to history
renaissance artisans
sworn to the arcane
secrets of guild
capture the light
that bathes Venice
at sunrise and sunset
in crystalline forms
fluid chemistry
breathing with fire
that borders on magic
evoking organic
svelte contours
infused with
remarkable purity
unsurpassed clarity
leitmotifs hearken
aristocrat tastes
floral bisque appliqués
enamel jeweled scenes
in a delicate filigree
ruby red stemware
preciously chased in
the richly laid gilt
of the goldsmith
here in this vibrant
quaint precinct of
Mare Adriaticum
sumptuous products
emerge from ten
centuries given to
most humble industry
products to please
the aesthetical senses
of practical beauty
prized by the world
Writer Lynne Sargent
Poetry Puttering by Pax & Company
Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that small, bright, and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. David Whyte
"drink from the well of your self and begin again" ~charles bukowski
no dust here
Looking ahead, without looking back (too often)
flights of fancy from New Zealand
You're never alone, if you've something to share
All you touch and all you see / is all your life will ever be
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I am where the valleys are deep, the mountains are high, and the wind moans through trees...
rejuvenatement - not retirement