Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Seasonal Waltz

My very first commissioned poem was completed today, and sent via the electronic mail to my dear pen pal Sean in London, Ontario. I was paid in chocolate, a good book, and a Pee-Wee Herman doll.

Enjoy (or don't, if, y'know, poetry isn't your thing):


Wind chants “fall into me”

It purrs and it whistles

First thing you hear

after the din diminishes

of downtown streets

that bustle and beep.

As the swirl of frustration

wears thin, looses grip.

So you cease to fight it, and cease to hide

Hair in tangles,

ears hot; turning red.

Soothe the dry sore skin of all winters past

Incite morning’s biting kiss.

Countless walks in barren courtyards

Skeletal trees,

skeletal umbrellas

left to the elements both harsh and unkind.

On these gray days, and blackest of nights

a single tears streams gently down—

Let it go

like a snake and the shed of his skin.


Don’t forget to catch the day

Like a clear photograph of a bird in flight

Motion in the air made still

Don’t let it blur, linger on.

You sit on the front porch

watching children jump,

kick, crunch the leaves.

Cinnamon, cardamom,

nutmeg swirl at the top of a mug

like a dream.

How many tears drops does it take to cleanse,

rattle the cobwebs of the heart?

It’s a question you ask only on the days when you forget

to forget to forget to forget.

But the wisdom of days spent

basking in reverie

come back,

come back to you still.

Of awe and beauty,

love and endearment

This is the language we speak.


Into the tall grass

go children and lovers

to their oblivion.


so boundless is dear.

Soon weeds wreak havoc

Flowers fight, stand your ground.

While cascading drops from cotton ball clouds

Trickle down, tap and shower

Replenish your soil, bring back light.

Sunshine like mother’s arms

So fleeting,


On days like these

the night envelops it all

Too soon.

And there’s a vulnerability,

you recall—

a soft fear you miss

in illness, while in bed,

waiting for a gentle hand.


Under weathered tarmac, the grass still grows

Roots still move through the earth

And through folly and hardship

and doom you know

that this is but one way to see it.

Parallel worlds, the dreamers say—

Tilt the kaleidoscope.

You’ve been beat down by the end of a day

Yet neglected waves at beaches

never slow.

Poor souls in grottos

frightened to find what awaits:

The laughter of summer,

its joys and its triumphs—

all part of the mad adventure.

Gravity move in reversal you say.

Start it all over, children cry out.

Give back what you’ve taken,

for better, for worse

and birth, only birth

plead the old and unwise.


Anonymous said...


Sean Wraight said...


I knew very well that you would rise to the occasion to create something both epic in scope and 'gobsmackingly' great but you've also written something extraordinarily touching.

I am grateful beyond words my talented friend; your paltry Pee Wee payment only a small token. I owe you the moon for this Amity.

Thank you so very much.