the triumph of
the right to guess
the flashes of the future
for their burst of time
Their minds were set;
the facts and form were given;
degrees begot and they were let
unleashed with power
to spare, and flew,
for we were there
Your love was deep
for all our keep
and when you left, we wept-
your death killed each
of us in part-
our part of you
And now, in retrospect
your love profound, pragmatic
was loyal, sound, and true-
you pulled us through-
but love was always there for you
in deepest passion
ICE MAIDEN
Ice,-
tough,
hard,
cold.
The shrouded shell
of atrophied personality;
the grim facade
of sometime riches fallen in a well.
Ice,-
pure,
crystal,
compacted.
Frozen tears
of disappointments' bout
transparent yet obdurate;
immune to pick and probe
of sharpened wit or warmth without.
Ice,-
beware,
bewildering
barrier
of spirits flight;
filterer of thought
and dampener of psyche,
your blanket dims
the brightest light.
Ice,-
tasteless,
blue,
bleak.
Pour weak from warmth within;
turn fast to water
ere the dance be done,
before the heart cools
and the pulse is thin.
Accursed ice,-
bedamned,
bedevilled,
begone!
Your time is come
for still the world is young
and nature's kind
for springs' begun.
DONUTS
Gleaming, glazed, precise,
the immaculate rows of cultured donuts
reflect the crystal glow
of polished glass and lustrous stainless steel -
the perfected prism; the proven franchise magic mix -
converging all to inevitable success.
The formula defines all aspects
of the structured layers of support -
to move the short lived product
from mix to oven to shelf to tray, and hand to mouth
for those who choose to pause and think, drink,
and be merry for a brief instant, with a donut -
in hurried breaks from fast lanes of our time.
Almond eyed, sometimes the dragon-cat; the mini hostess,
brusque and bold, and cold, snatches money from the proffered hand
as quick as claw, the pretty gaze ablaze
in discontent as sterile as the the stainless,
and foreign to the color tones of warmth;
contrasting nurtured smell of welcome coffee;
a slipping cleft of hidden lifequake yet to come.
By the window sit the couple; elderly worn,
gazing wistfully at the bustling street,
sipping on their memories of slower times
and elegance of manners past;
numbed still from jobless misery, war, and peace precarious -
yet grateful of the giant leap of time
that war itself is near passe; as obsolete as chivalry.
How little worry now, they thought;
if only we can handle waste and wanton hate;
and not get sick with ails, but even those dissolve
- likely after
