Autumn Frost

The flags of summer have all flown
And now are strewn about my home;
Begonias lay, all drabs and grays,
Suffering in degrading ways.

Some subtle portal called my own
Through which the sunshine stabbed and played
Is rayless, dark, with doom foretold
Of slush and sleet and snow and cold.

The season slips towards decline
With brakes stuttering in the slide;
Screeching shrilly,  joy-dead drunks
Hunker down and enjoy the ride.

Yet there are roots and dreaming trunks
Patiently waiting to revive.

Sonnet #2

Somewhere, the exotic bird chirps a song mundane
As foreign sails sit still and furled within the harbor’s bay
While on the wind the mystic chime wails to those astray,
And the waxing of the pearly moon is outshone by the rain.

Somewhere, the all-mighty king prepares his lavish feasts,
With scent of spices stirring swirling out above the streets –
Where happy people weep and dance beneath the summer skies
And every vibrant color is a reaper in disguise.

Yet Somewhere holds no home for those who share my creed;
For as every distant image can be nearby sought and seen
Soon all lies succumb to fact, and no mystery remains to glean,
And wonder ceases blossom – locked away within the seed.

Any joy that grows there will be twisted and obscene
For every flower, Somewhere, is nothing but a weed.

Sonnet #1

Between deep draughts from whitewashed mug
I peered through glass at worlds outside,
As life laid numb by discord’s drug;
While near my mind, a woman cried.

She wept away with heartache’s tide,
When sorrow spent, she turned and spoke;
From painful words she wished to hide –
To flee the tears that ebbed and broke.

And I, the felon greeting gallows’ choke
With intent to quickly draw the noose;
Had yearned to slip her silken yoke,
Yet once more sipped the drink of truce.

Alike the mug that grazed my lip,
My love had drained with every sip.