Summer Creature
Forced air scatters the evening
while strong streaks blast through
the cracks in the leaves.
Confident shadows stand
welcoming the dark that must be.
The breeze is what matters,
lifting the many hands of trees,
depositing dusk as it touches all.
It comes and goes, creature so elusive,
but oh, so complete.
“Canyon in Wyoming”
“One Fine Spring Day”
“San Blas”‘
“In Memory of Betty Shearer”
The House
My head is an attic,
And gray matter the trunks.
Above are beams of decades,
Below, doors letting them out.
The world is a breath
And each room is a lung.
Bones grow like a staircase,
Blood paints chosen words.
The windows are a camera,
The kitchen is a heart.
Lift gently from the foundation
When the walls fall apart.
TVS Poems: “8 Talking Poems” and Photo Art by Tim Van Schmidt
Spirit Like a Comfortable Chair
No longer the calm from the cushion.
No longer the decisive word.
No longer the sparkling eye
That shone on childish play.
No longer moments live again
While the old arteries harden,
Reaching the youth of curious ears
As outside trees are swaying.
Walking, a ghost in a nightgown;
Her wit and chuckle remain.
I dream her voice cradles the night
To whisper that it is alright…
…it is alright…it is alright.
OoB: Opposite of Blink presents TVS and two fingers “Found”
Found
In my pocket is the hand
That gripped the universe and shook.
In my mouth is the word
That love finally heard.
In my shoes the whole earth quaked,
The sea boiled, the sky flashed.
In my eye time stands by
And memory teaches all.
Found in the ruined moments spent
Is the mystery of another day:
In my heart the deepest questions
Lift the veil away.