Butterfly?

Butterfly?

Epihany

The same stubborn scenario
The same view every night
A silhouette, close to the edge
A moth under the light
The echo of my thoughts
On infinite repeat
A schizophrenic mind field
Of two and a half feet

Turned one hundred and eighty
In a blanketed cocoon
A butterfly to a moth
Under the light of the moon
A stark and palpable silence
An insurmountable rut
Urges, kept at arm’s length
Until my eyes flutter shut

Take me back to my muse
Release me from this storm
From the cold of my creation
The bitter back to the warm
From this tempest in a teapot
 These chilling winds of blame
 The frigid reality each night
The moth back to the flame

An exasperating tug of war
Across a span of diminished hope
There has to be some solace
Near the end of my rope
Nothing that I can do or say
Changes, impervious to gain
The collateral damage is done
A consequence to the pain

So many months, eaten away
The thin fabric of a ruse
Resentful of my own creation
 A moth disguised as a muse
Rose-coloured tunnel vision?
Wishful thinking all along?

For the sanity of lost time
It would help if I was wrong

Take me back to my muse
Release me from this regret
From the pall of uncertainty
That hangs over me yet
From the now back to the then
The difference of day to night
To open arms and an open mind
To a butterfly, in a better light

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Morn

 

 

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Morn

On the still waters
of  Mulville Bay
I stand alone
and greet the day

Nature welcomes me
with open arms
Surrounding my boat
with her obvious charms

The fresh smile of sunrise
The grace of a lingering moon
 The dance of two water bugs
Greetings from a loon

The soft whisper of the trees
The cheerful burst of a frog
 Announcing his presence
from a shoreline log

A passing muskrat
gives a pre-dive nod
One last greeting

 before I cast my rod

The exultation I feel
is crisp and pure
I break the surface
with the splash of my lure

We are in this together

and the message is clear
The morning is awake
and it knows I am here

The murmur of my cares
seems a world away
 as I fish, accompanied
by Mulville Bay

 

 

 

Incendiary

                    Incendiary 
Resplendent under the night sky
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Her allure, all but inescapable
She summons, then she seduces
You’d resist, but you’re incapable

Helpless, you gravitate to her
Your attention compulsively drawn
Stoked, with sensory anticipation

Eyes cast, over the glistening lawn

The faint moon peers cautiously down
A vague thought in the distance
Her will, demanding your presence

Her passion, breathing insistence

As enticing as she is unpredictable
Her intensity, pushes you away
Her warmth, always pulls you back 
Her intrigue, compels you to stay

Both incendiary and intoxicating  
She has curious hypnotic powers
Getting lost in the possibilities
You could gaze at her for hours

You find nuances to her every hue
The lick of her playful flames
Dancing in different directions
Engaged in spirited games

Provide what she needs, she exhales
Nourished, she swells from inside
Ignore her, or leave her unattended
And her fervor will slowly subside

Reminded of her precarious nature
Her sudden sparks keep you leery
Yet, beside her, you find soothing comfort 
And a warmth that makes you weary

An empty glass resting beside you
You bask, in the waning glow
As difficult as it is to get up
You both just seem to know

You rise, as the last of her falls
It is not the will that you lack
Recovering your balance, your focus
You take one hopeful look back

Spent, you find a flicker of life
Your pleasure, impossible to hide
The smell of the night on your body
You let the stars guide you inside

 

Precarious

Precarious
Every morning I see him
barely hanging on 
Dangling, precariously
under a lingering moon

Managing to endure
despite his battered shell
A razor piece of skin
holding him up high

Been torturous months
since that horrendous storm
Shattered his foundation
destroying his lofty view

Many extreme days since
of ice and punishing wind
Chipping away his perseverance
diminishing his resolve

I imagine his motivation
the reason for his strength
The last strand of resilience
that holds him there

The harsh and bitter elements
cracking through his will
Leaving him alone, wavering
on the brink of his demise

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I check on him again
battered by days end
Still hanging on, barely
by that same thread of hope

Any quick jab of pride
is quickly superseded
Replaced by the reality
of what lies ahead

Knowing that rest is fleeting
as night brings the unknown
One thin strand of determination
preserving his weary soul

Nights of wavering doubts
of cold and cruel struggle
Exhausting his perseverance
diminishing his resolve

I imagine his thoughts
through this arduous battle
Through the repetitive rigours
of winter’s constant extremes

Recognizing his own inevitability
his slight, precarious being
Perhaps, hoping not to fall
until the warm ground of spring

 

Stars

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Stars

Hand in hand,
  slow walk to town
  Table
for two
The perfect way
to end the day
Me
and you

Late August sky,
 without a moon
Cloudless
and clear
 A black canvas
The milky way
Far
and near 

Strolling home,
guided by the stars
Light
and space
 Calm anticipation
 The night is ours
Time
and place

Side by side,
looking to that sky
Contentment
and love
A natural repose
all around us

Inside
and above

The hour late,
we lie awake
Quiet
and reflective

This peaceful night
speaks for itself
Interstellar
and introspective

Under the stars,
slowly winding down
Tranquility
for two
The perfect way
to end this day
Me
and you


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