the first sound…and the last

Myth
You cant keep hangin’ on
To all that’s dead and gone
Oh, let the ashes fly

Help me to make it
Help me to make it
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the first sound…and the last
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in the quiet before sunrise…
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before this relentless world awakes…
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at the window silhouette of my
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alone listening…
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i hear the first of morning’s call,
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faint from the dense of sheltering evergreens…
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alighting from February’s greyed and leafless branches…
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in slow breaths past your sleeping lips…
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i can hear our shared living mystery recital
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whispered deep within your down pillowed dreams,
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the serendipitous and storied soliloquy of
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our improbable union of years.
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in destiny devoted season after season…
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that even in this cruelest of another Winter cold,
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we can still scorch
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in the white of our own flame.
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and still… this fool romantic’s heart
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could believe only Love beckons reconciliation,
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but a slow and greying wisdom wonders
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‘is it our friendship we can’t live without?’
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and outside our window long past sundown…
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when the world has turned away…
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i hear the life mating cardinals, like us
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a fated pair
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calling each other home to close another day.
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we are as the Universe demands, and how
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i’m forever grateful it’s your voice i hear.
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the first sound…
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and the last.
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drawing approx. 8″ x 8″ on vellum paper
pencil, watercolor pencil, white and black marker,
acrylic paint and sourced from various Google pics
click to enlarge

bravely white on white…..Tanka

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parchment paper birch

standing bravely white on white,

deep in snow… on snow.

its textured history bared

like ours… in subtle details.

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slow nuanced layers,

peeled away in time… with trust…

from pretense and fear.
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patiently waiting…alone,

hoping our Truth will be found.
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pencil, watercolor pencil, acrylic paint,
paint markers, approx. 8″x8″ on vellum paper
sourced from various Google pics and my imagination.
click image to enlarge

the tenacity of innocence

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born in tentative voice…
sadly that so many sentences have
since choked quiet in this throat, scathing
self doubt daring these lips to tell.

and such beauty witnessed i abandoned to fear
forsaking my pens their ink to run bone dry,
the unrecorded curiosity of an innocent imagination.
oh.. the decades white in pages…

and creativity… the purest gift…
hidden secret in wasteful dormancy, a shroud
in numbing cloaks of self medicated apathy
a faux justification of my feigned indifference.

the stark anomaly in my bloodlines…
an empath hyper alive in insensitive worlds
of blank eyes and suspicious glances,
my vulnerability worn like a deer in the clearing.

my back has bent bearing the
weights of this artistic expectation, grieving
unrealized creativity a constant burden, spiritless
this stale soul air filling its void.

sinister angel of drought!
i hear your cruel hiss of darkness
stirring memories echoing my tragic past,
the voice that would swallow me whole.

but i have lived to see my whiskers grey, and
i see my years through the merciful memory of eyes
that never forget… the beauty they’ve seen,
because it’s my innocence i will relive fondly now.

living rightly and whole today
i stand among the alignment of stars
projecting the destiny of a Light within, knowing
my last clean breath… will hold no regrets.
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approx. 8″ x 8″ on vellum paper
pencil, watercolor pencil, white and black marker,
wax crayons and sourced from various Google pics
click to enlarge

even the sparrow….Haiku/Tanka

a relentless snow
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drifts in consuming whiteout…
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will i disappear,
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succumb to the vampire wind
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that would drain my soul to numb?
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these eyes half open
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in waking hibernation,
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this heart a frail beat.
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a frozen flatline…
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waiting in emotional
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ambiguity
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for the morning Sun
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to light… this desolate sky…
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to wake… from this sleep…
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the ambivalent
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stare dead eyed past the wounded.
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yet time and again
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your brown eyes warm my shadows,
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and mend these oft broken wings.
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Hope turns skyward now…
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beyond… this Season of Fear…
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snow… falls ever white…
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and Winter’s death has it’s Spring,
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even the sparrow… finds food.
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watercolor pencil, pencil,
black and white marker,
white acrylic paint
12″x 12″ vellum paper,
sourced from various pics
and my imagination
click for larger image

my gifts

‘so are you ready for your Father’s Day present?’

‘oh, you didn’t have to go and buy me anything Cbear’

‘i didn’t, i drew you something…’
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‘…here, Happy Father’s Day daddy, i love you’

{{{{ h u g s }}}..and my always kiss to her forehead.

‘i love you too Cbear, very much…wait…
this is for me? you started this on Wednesday
after you shared that song. you mean all along
this was my present?’

‘yup, i decided after you loved that song so much.
that’s Marina and it’s my fav pic of her’

‘Cbear, this came out so well, the details in
her hair, the lips are perfect and the eyes…
man, look at those eyes!’
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‘yeah, i spent a lot of time on her eyes’

‘well, remember when i was saying you should
just concentrate on getting eyes as perfect
as you can, when you were into anime’…..
just keep drawing eyes, ’cause it’s all
about the eyes Cbear’

‘yeah i know, there’s something on the back too’
.

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‘oh wow, that script is perfect, look at that S,
they are the always the most difficult letter’

‘yeah, and it’s the name of the song too. i chose
a font i liked from Google’

‘it’s beautiful, the whole thing, both sides are
just perfect…thank you Cbear, you’re the best!’
‘
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so on this most perfect sunny day, surrounded with
the most important people in my life; Scout my loving
partner, Cbear and her perfection at 13, speaking to
Scout’s parents B and S who absorbed Cbear into their
hearts as their only grand daughter, adopted me as
their surrogate son and G who now has a brother he
always wanted…there is no yearning…

because everything i ever need is already here.

‘so are ‘gonna write a poem from this song too
like you did the last one i shared?’

‘oh yeah! i’ve been listening to this in my
headphones nonstop since Wednesday, i
already have the title too’

‘cool, can’t wait to read it’

and Cbear, i look at her and still can’t believe she’s
in my life, keeping me real….what a gift she is.
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