Three More Poems - Three More Friends

The Arts

In the Season of Poui

by

Avi Miller

In the season of Poui

Red and yellow blossoms fall;

Shadows fall with them too

- Into six by six garden plots

Of dust and soul.

Long before this silence

Of sleep robbing you of self,

Some come to understand

That phantom hugs and kisses

Haunt before garden graves.

In such stark moments of truth

A tongue heavy with immediacy

Must ask that you- in particular,

No sad song sing; nor long speech write

No goat blood spill; nor lilies bring.

That rum breath-mourning scent,

Be kept to yourself.

If you want- remember,

If not, be free to forget.

I was already a floating memory

Riding times lonely stream.

Alone on it I came.

Curled, like some 

Infinitely suffering thing

Assumed in the pale

Raiment of death,

Alone I depart.

Having drunk bitter gall

Of a false lover- lost.

Perhaps, it is best

The world is shouldered

On one with greater breath.

You who walked beside me

Knotted by feeble words

- Left me to rot

In some dark recess of life.

Let me have then,

My serene scene,

In this secluded plot

Of myrrh filled sunset

To which I hum

This new immortal song.

******

The Seer

By

David Pearson

Sitting at the table

At the village fair

He told the future

For a dollar clear,

Just as he saw it

He spoke plainly

But he said it with

Words spoken wisely.

A man came alone,

With nothing in his hand

The seer looked deeply

He saw a life grand,

A future of success

With riches great.

A man of influence

And so the seer spake.

“I see a life of difficulty,

Heart ache and pain,

Mixed with success

And so much gain.

If you have friends

And the support they give,

You will be rich

As long as you live.”

A man came happy,

With his girl in the rain,

The seer looked deeply

He saw a life of pain.

A future cut short

By a disease’s path

There’d be no sports;

Seer shared no wrath.

“I see a life of difficulty,

Heart ache and pain,

Mixed with success

And so much gain.

You’ll need friends -

The support they give,

And you’ll be rich

As long as you live.”

******

...the last time...

By

Austin George Henry

You cannot get tomorrow, today

Neither can you get back yesterday

The minute that has been spent

You do not own it…ye rent

For after sixty seconds, it rents away.

Did you give love tomorrow’s yesterday?

The months they go by

And the years they fly

Father Time never stands still

Methinks, the time you bring,

to read this song,

Tis a whole lifetime,

for someone.

Did you do love yesterday’s tomorrow?

Can we create a future that will erase, or better, the past?

Can ye make the present destine a future that will last?

Am I the master of my personal determined tomorrow?

Could he, she, they, them, soar to the past like Kilimanjaro?

The quill’s on this ode for the last time…

Now becomes then,

the breath the “w” passes away…

Did you give love, with love, today?

[Photographic Art by Ric Couchman]