Tag Archives: ode

Love, Always

I would live forever
      if you would forever live too,
    seeking no end-
            only beginnings.

I would gladly see the world out,
  if when the lights dimmed,
        the quiet settled in,
  you too remained for me to settle into;
        find pale dreams between living.

I would suffer until it became white noise
    as long as our symphony remained
        rising above the audience of our years,
            humbled into silent admiration.

I would disappear-
        fade to nothing,
            if anything didn’t include you,
                    us,
                        this.

Sayyidina

Sayyidna, my desert flower
the author of this refrain
though it is I that write it,
the ink, as always, bears her name.
The blossom of her life
contrast against the sterile sands
celebrated by each sparkled grain
inspires air to dance about the land.
She tells of water when it is unseen
she gifts color when the world is palid
She is thorns adorned on the defenseless
She is truth amidst the invalid
Where the sun takes all it sees
she will fruit with dew.
Where the sand consumes
she nourishes until I am renewed.
Though the dunes shift eternal
she, as always, will remain;
Sayyidina, my desert flower
the author of this refrain.

An Ode to Blinking

The sliver between our open eyes
a slice between frames of light
that go on and on and on
like the water-colored frivolity
that supports those old cartoons;
bright characters in stark contrast
oblivious to the stylistic dysmorphia.

A flash of darkness
quickly set aside by the bookends of life
a pause so faint as to be forgotten
lost in the Kaleidoscope of colors;
the years as shapes, tumbling
on and on and on again
always different, always the same.

The universe moves unchallenged,
pufts of turmoil in the vast darkness,
and in that turmoil
flecks of life – flint sparks
quick flashes of light in the darkness
an irony like blinking
that goes on and on and on.

Ode to the Pen

To you who are so confident in the sharp angles
               who will not bend by force
                          but will shape the mind,
the scales by which our history is judged
        the catalyst for all intellect divined,
I ask, what shape would be made of us otherwise?

Through you we’ve explored our history

Through you we’ve reached

                                                         Out
                 into the future
                                      and found a place there

Whether

                  Quiet

       Or loud.

Through you we have a voice that
transcends
                     our isolation.

An Ode to Rob O’Horo

He had pictures in a dusty stack,
Joy flowed out from every frozen stance
As he leapt full meters dancing the gopak.
I often think about that,
Everything I loved about him,
My favorite moments and most influential chats,
The smoke of an empty shell casing expressed as his whim.
Poor man drank himself dead
All while entertaining my young self.

More than most, his imprint is pressed upon my head,
His humor and wisdom were both top shelf;
He offered so much guidance through film and book,
When I needed it/him more than I knew,
We stayed up all night discussing his life, what it took,
And thus I learned about mine and grew.
Coy was I in response to his caring stance,
Until he took his own life, and it destroyed me, but…
Boy, let me tell you, that man could dance.