In the Gallery

snowy branches

 

Winter’s brush, with frozen bristles

Decorates the thorns and thistles -

Weaves her words to paint a spell

That beautifies the weeds as well

As ever Solomon was dressed

In kingly robes and royal crest;

Her art, expressed in silver tones,

Becomes the flesh to drape bare bones,

Makes beautiful the cold mundane,

Declares the glory of her reign.

I, who humbly view her show,

Am lured, enraptured by the snow.

Three Course Meal

frozen mango tango

 

pain steals in soft

frozen fangs

tempted by exposed underbelly

plated appetizer

*

 pearly whites gnaw

masticate

savour slow the flesh of broken hearts

 main course destruction

*

faith foamed and frothed

tenderized

redeems gnashed, broken ingredients

  becomes sweet dessert

*

Great Expectations

foliage

 

The seeds of Great Expectations rooted deep,

but she tasted their fruits not in the fair soil of trinkets

fashioned from sturdy stems,

cabinetry of beauty and elegance

displaying the wares of Kings,

nor in the expression of the printed page,

pouring forth speech from pulpy loins.

Less still the warmth of a billion fires,

songs of a billion kettles

as her fuel gave Man comfort from the endless darkness.

It came, not in the power and might

of the straight-rimmed arrow’s shaft

or the machinations of the torture room,

but in the beautiful irony of Life -

the abandonment of her burdens,

 bouquet of ultimate surrender.

Here, where she came to terms with her brokenness,

her truest beauty harvested

Great Expectations.