When the sunflower last bloomed

I remember the light, I remember the yellows and golds

Hope

I remember pedals , their perfectly sculpted forms

Before the summer storms

Last  before the greys

Before my damaged eyes could only see this way

I remember the flowers from a child’s smile

How tall they grew how fast, how far

A forest of yellow

That dwarfed a child’s innocent mind

They fell, they always fall as summer insists it perilous

Flame

The pause in the fall before winter came

But now, everything feels the same

All pastel replaced by grey

Sad the artist whose eyes stay closed

Who sees a sunflower that way…

Freefall

Falling, without the wisdom to catch one’s self

Nor the realization or intent

Pray the ground is patient

I felt the breeze, desperate to taste any hint of season,

I saw the colors change in rapid succession

From blues to reds and back

I was hungry, starving

And yet I couldn’t fathom nourishment

As the self collided with remnants

Me in freefall

You cross the edge of a great chasm of empty

You ache to know what makes you happy

And the indifference of the space beneath you

Insists you it’s going to be a long ride down

I wish I could explain to someone the lack of direction

Even while my direction

The past decides

And any future, or glimmer of hope

The remnants over ride

I’m not complaining

They cost me everything

And that’s a small part of the unfamiliar face

that paces in the yard

And seeks some form of comfort

A place

To escape

And when you find that self it is a stranger

That barely realizes its own desire

I feel the shadows lengthening

Must be evening

As all of my senses abide

To the absence of control

And the submission of time

Falling, I don't want to get back in the plane

I don’t want to question or complain

I am confident in the space beneath that quickly becomes the past

How slow the days, the hours

How horribly fast

Redefinining wisdom like a dull weapon

Honed on a finishing stone

We go recklesslessly, horribly alone

And all the spaces around me seem empty

And all intent vacant

Down from a sky of indifference

I hope the ground is patient

Listening to the Rain

The first of several abstractions of nature-I am working on a series which will appear in the Artbygordon blog

Today I'm enjoying a storm the way it should be, a heavy constant rain and the distant sound of thunder. At the beginning of the tornado season, every time the sky darkens we are threatened with gloom and doom.

Today was not one of those days.. The sky has been dark all day, the rain intermittent between a soaking drizzle to a intense down pour. I am enjoying the sound on the roof, watching the ripples on the concrete and the sound of thunder in the distance.

It's one of those introspective days, the days that you reassess and enjoy the silence and subdued light. There are no news casts warning about every twist and turn, desperate to convince us that at any moment we should seek cover.

This is the kind of storm I remember from New Jersey, a soaking rain, a cool breeze and a bit of darkness for a Sunday afternoon. Tomorrow it will be in the eighties and back to humid but for the moment I'm absolutely enjoying listening to the rain.

An Innocent Sky

An innocent sky

Stares with light blue eyes

Cold white clouds

Hung above our struggling forms

Beneath the glass of broken windows

Shattered roofs and dented cars

We stare at an innocent sky

As the fractured bits of water

Pass us by

A rainbow insists its nothing personal

And the colors form

In the edge of the streets

Beneath a toddlers shuffling feet

And the families

look up to a sky

Where insurance rises

And the open holes

Let the cold water in

Forgive us for our transgressions

The wrath of God hangs high upon us

But the sky insists it’s nothing personal

And the threat is already gone

Stare up to an angry sky in tantrum

The storm has passed us on

A poet through open doors

Lament of a Landscape

I walked with you in a landscape

The sky was black and you didn’t notice

Being young

Remember finding crawfish on the golf course

Remember walking slow,

Walking fast

Do you remember when walking

Was the hardest task

I walked with you in a garden

It was beautiful

And we ate plums

When other fruits were soured

And we would plant the seeds

And count the flowers

And we would never look over the fence

Only for turtles and the snakes

and the hidden places they went

Your smile would light my day

And calm the storm

I promised I’d keep you safe

And free from harm

And now you run on cliffs,

I have since lost my step

And I can barely throw rocks to a mocking tide

Or fathom where your journey went

I stand on a crossroad

Watching the flowers unkempt

And the plums never sweeten enough

Time insists it will give you back

But time I will never trust

So I stand across this landscape

The sky was once so blue

Can’t we lay in the grass for a while

And talk about the stars

And the sky

I promised I’d  keep you safe

I promised I wouldn’t cause harm

But I can’t reach your precarious perch

Or fathom where you are…. 

On Dying and Nature

We keep the body in a steel box

Keep it safe

Hanging on to its limbs

As the universe sighs

Keep our fingers in the soil

And the doves are the only things that fly

We keep ourselves

Clinging to the rotting ground

What a sad way to die…

Instead the cocoon

Its skin releases the beautiful wings

No stone to keep a place

We have stars and beautiful things

The universe breathes deep

Keeps us

Open and alive

Leave the weight of flesh and bone

Behind

The vice of science

Insists

That the heart must keep its time

And the universe replies

Out across the distance of everlasting sky

Leave the ash and all the weight of the body

Behind

Peace, freedom out through an open violent sky

What a beautiful

Sacred way to die.