Month: November 2013

Everyday Ritual

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Old Door WM

Everyday Ritual
The cups are neatly stacked,
Soft flowing handles in line,
In kettle’s blue light, eddies
Of water, shimmer and dance,
promising dark pleasures.

Unswirled, rich aroma,
Now delving, scooping, deep brown
Granules, measuring right
Taste, imagined memory,
Guiding mysterious ritual.

© David R. Durham

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  • Technical details on the photo are on the Photo Information page.
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Standing

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Boys Jumping WM

Standing Where I Once Stood

I
Standing where I once stood, once larked,
Fresh in youthful eyes and heart,
Exuberant games with friendly faces,
The only faces I had known, experienced,
Navigating the native neighborhoods,
Fragile recall. Mind’s tainted eye.

Homespun stories turn the wheel of life,
Measured by ticking clock’s pulse?
Or valued by experience gained.

II
Standing where I once stood, once loved,
Racing to the finish line, grasping at
Victory’s promise, beckoning adventures,
Dancing in passion soaked joys, inviting
Life’s raw seed to raging ripening,
Fragmented heart. Sentiment corrupted.

Organic stories fuel the wheel of life,
Measured by ticking clock’s pulse?
Or cherished by love’s bewitchment.

III
Standing where I once stood, once lived,
This dhamma body drinks Messiah’s blood,
Ravishing the earth corrupted heavenly
Host, that rages hot, then cold with each
Passing prayer, and tempts old bones to
False resurrection. Soul deceived.

Human stories spin the wheel of life,
Measured by ticking clock’s pulse?
Or rated by voluntary sweet charity.

© David R. Durham

  • Photographs from this blog are for sale here: FINE ART PRINTS
  • To receive blog updates, click on the +Follow on your screen.
  • Technical details on the photo are on the Photo Information page.
  • More information on the poem are on my Facebook page.

Love Held Tight

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poet

Love Held Tight
With love held tight in hearts embrace,
Would’st the scent of love be enough,
Should a whisper fulfill our finest grace,
Or will full storm of voices be raised,
With longing left far behind on shrinking shore,
‘Till neither you nor I falter in hesitant dark,
And all our days they flower into this, this honest moment,
Where secret words weave their prophetic spells,
And tenderness holds sway over doubt filled years,
Yet no love song, nor pure sonnet can compare,
With love held tight in hearts embrace.

© David R. Durham

  • To receive blog updates, click on the +Follow on your screen.
  • Technical details on the photo are on the Photo Information page.
  • More information on the poem are on my Facebook page.