Two by Aldus
From PoetryWar:
for hunter s.
wrecking ball
with wings
way too much
open sky
bound to
hit the ground
in a hard way
he had a gift
for soaring high
maybe with enough
adrenaline he
could forget
that he was
mortal like the
rest of us
i always wanted
to follow him
thru the clouds
but even as i
tilted upward
my feet got
tangled in the
web of words
he was a dark angel
a desperate raven
cruising thru
the night of
the human condition
he was a character
in his own book
and leapt off the page
until his pen
ran out of ink and
he came crashing down
with the rest of us
nothing left to say
let’s have a moment
of silence for he
who would have us
shake the rust
from our own wings
and leave the
wrecking ball
behind
the old oak tree
there is a fire within
that burns always
but is mostly
kept in shadows
i feel that fire now as i write
it provides the energy for my writing
without it i would have nothing to say
nor would i even try
i will write now
of a wish
of a will
of a way
or maybe wait till saturday
look beyond the green hills
to where memory
intercepts the moment
there are children at play
i suddenly understand
brilliant and beaming
is it really what i wanted to say?
did i tell you about
how i swept the floor today
and hung up bird feeders
and washed some dog blankets?
tomorrow i stretch
like a long bow
from the earth
to the sky
the arrow of my awareness
goes whizzing by
it lodges in
the old oak tree
which has watched me live
and will watch me die
