This collection of poems is dedicated to a dear co-worker who took her life. Her name was Gayle. The collection itself shows ambivalence between life and death. All things come to an end, and I try to present that through the seasons. The first poem, “Death of Seasons,” introduces the collection. “Leaving Summer” spans between sunrise and sunset and shows how death begins with life, as summer marks liveliness in any given year. “Mancando” covers fall and uses the imagery of a conductor dropping his baton to harness the beauty and unknown territory of fall. Musical vocabulary was used to write this poem, so I have set the definitions to the side in parentheses. “Winter” is self-explanatory. Finally, the piece closes with “Sheep A Sprung.”
Death of Seasons
A gale to settle unrest
The dying must confess
A vacation spent
synchronizing
Proportions
Of time unspent
A fraudulent intent
To sacrifice the dead
On mysterious shrines;
They wail unaware
Unspent, unseen, unclean
Simply stain the scenes
Where God creates
Dancing ships
Upon tempered beats
And gulls the gales of gall
A living he enthralls
To bow whip, a trip
And mend a breeze
In spite of sinking
With a stretch of forced
Nothings left to course
Each season fades to black
And times unsettled
May now just rest
Leaving Summer
sneaking suspicions
dawning hallmarks
are games for gods
Where scores are settled
benchmarking decay
horizontal reds
speckled with brilliance
everlasting and grand
Leaving the un-vertical
living until said
ah, unspoken dreams
Of what must end
A baby’s point it seems
To unlock the mystery
Of What must be must be
caprice to find the end it seems
Frightened rays of light
‘Til God breathes no more
And withered impulses
set the sun at last.
Mancando (*fading away)
Concerto is well settled (*a piece for a soloist and orchestra)
The living seated well
Spectators sport garb
Of Feelings nettled
Beginning tap tap
Conductor sets the stage (*musical director)
For feeding a frenzy
Swooshes in Conmoto (*with intensity)
‘Til applauses reach outrage
Crashing with his baton
The crowd goes chromatic (*ascending or descending by half steps)
As chaos trumps the trumpet
Reverbing the sounds
Tis’ Molto traumatic (*very)
Backsliding the beat
Suspending all splendor
The conductor regrets
Opus 1, 2, and 3 as (*chronological orders of work)
sheet music is blundered
And Greatnesss now rit (*gradually growing slower)
Winter
Flowering momentum
When movement dwindles
delicate and daunting
cold-hearted escapades
Where falling petals are unleashed
Hungry til no more
That which provokes the organic
To beat the trodden path
And wrestle with a taciturn
Heart struggling to unlearn
Invalidating fears
Clocks of old pursue
And the tick of the tock
With his outspoken secrets
Revel in progression
Unwinding all pursuits
Where liveliness decays
Leaving that which was created
as Memories in perpetuity
And every man is left for dead
Sheep A Sprung
Fragrances aware, captures fairies tonight
A lady’s confidante who tells all tales
She animates the mystery of sheep, all
shorn and primped for a shepherd’s balanced scales
“They’re lovely little breed so well nourished,
A joyful flock.” as told by the pink fairy.
Ran in delightful circles around the sage
Grazing in the fields of juniper berries
Time came for profit when the grass was well cut
He marched like Shylock, danced like King David
To wage an offer and gain a small profit
By large margins. A man he was so fervid
Leaving, he left market a stock now dwindled
But each sheep was wisely accounted for
A ritual of summer’s preparations
To weigh the small matter was hair no more
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