Travelers

Touch of silver in moonlit space
Cobwebs, darkness, lines to trace
Ages that have worn you well
And lingered in places where they dwell

Smell of parchment worn and thin
Moisture, dryness, and moist again
Rends you till joints ache and refuse
The simplicity of a once youthful move

Yet, warmed by fire and cooled by ice
Fingers that have tempered nice
For touches both sure and gentle
Along thin shoulders just to settle

In camaraderie and love, born of the fear
We hadn’t expressed ourselves to those dear
For we all, travelers, will move on from here.

Fogged Trickery

redgladiola:

Spahr Plops and I were having a conversation about my poem, “Sink or Swim,” and he mentioned he would have focused on a different aspect of the imagery. I suggested he write his own poem exploring that and he did not disappoint! 

Originally posted on Spahr Plops:

Building suspense
Darkened audience
anticipating
conversing
Slowly, eerily
stage grows foggy
Eagerly awaiting magic
upending what’s static
“I’m so excited!”

Blurs of masked movement
prepares our amusement
Soft toned light flickers
Unsteady crowd snickers
“Here he comes…”

Gypsy spinners accentuate
a slender, colder figure
“I am Tarr, The Great!”
Then he turns into paint
This magnificent magician
he’s slippery as lotion
Undoes a harness
while being eyeless
“How incredible!”

But his best trickery
propagated perplexing imagery
Took a young girl
made her twirl, swirl
“What’s he doing?”
Making her dance
to mystical romance
She had no chance
against the glamorous lance
“OOOHHH!!!”
Bewitching impalement
She hangs stagnant
Music plays truimphant
Each stares in amazement
“Is she alive?”

Of course
he’s a force
The irrational
became believable

“Was a good time indeed…
Favorite part?
when that red gladiola seed
grew into a heart”

View original

Only Mortal

Alexander and Hephaestion Alexander and Hephaistion, by Andrea Camassei (credit: wikimedia commons)

Alexander conquered
with burnished hair curling
like a great feline’s mane.

He rode
needless of shield
hefting a bloodied sword
in his right hand.

Yet, when Alexander
dismounted,
it was Hephaistion’s shoulder
he leaned upon.