Tuesday, June 7, 2011

belated wedding poem

for suvi

tulips, roses root in morning gardens,
untangling memory's mesh.
mute lives bound in words,
old songs in the wind,
magic circles drawn in rhyme.

She weaves a tale of tulip poplars,
the invasion of kudzu along our fence,
and how norway elm hollows and falls
without notice, chance enough
to kill children (mother's worst dream).

bring your urn of grace.
unbind its ashen repose,
forgive my dark faith finding light,
my habits encoded in DNA
biding time for a last embrace,
where the stars behold
the pilgrimage and its end.

lead me to the mountain trails
where the stones don't cry,
past the doorstep of orphans,
in the room of many dreams,
let me be your mirror's gentle spy.

copyright 2011 Charles David Miller

Saturday, June 4, 2011

show what can't be said

dogwood buds bloom. chimes
carol my passion seeking release
on the wind. owl and flight mark home.

I've desired what cannot be thought.
captive in words and routine,
meshing brain cell and muscle
into my hieroglyph,
my vocabulary of ghosts.

I've never set my shoulder
with unnerving malice against
the waves that deluge our days.
but strand me in the sea
and fill my lungs with water,
would i praise your name?

I've known the honeysuckle days,
hot days when a single sweet bead
licked from the fruit exposed
a door to heaven. I'd want to tell
no remorse, no fault found in other light,
but that's a lie.

bound with ash and blood,
yellow moons will reap their harvest,
the last hunger quenched,
grooving walls of sin with sweat.

shatter jugs screaming moon beams.
arise and perish.

copyright 2011 Charles David Miller