It is becoming late Autumn when
The air, crisp with the notes of Winter,
Senses a world emerging in benign blue
Like the dying hydrangea outside my window
The éclosion of their color with a softer sky
Bemoans the snowbound revelry of my silent heart.
© K. James Ribble
Mountains formed because of you along
A valley that sets aside who you are
Allows for the angle of the sun to cast light
So defines you still within a joy you lost.
Mendacity persists even in the afterglow
Of dusk a precious reminder of your skin like
The auburn stutter of a star’s last thoughts
As I rise to the chorus timbre of your light
Marked by this constant remnant of the dark
We’ve become tragic cause for sorrow assumed
And rest on the periphery of time’s loss of wonder
Just as I come home to you on Christmas Day
© K. James Ribble
You are the only one who knew
The man as I was knew me in my
Prime real estate self virile as the
Aurora of the sun the one who sired
Your children by way of a lost love
We could never find you are the only
One who will ever know that man who
In his time shown bright as those
Tuned-in-to-you eyes shown like
Shooting stars across a deep blue-black
Sky falling to earth as we made love
Like LA snowfall in July when that
Time became a trilogy of innocence
Across the triptych of a Journey to
An outland of known/unknown origin
Where our hearts became fodder for a
Cruel star eating all the light we could
Ever emit like time and light and a soulful
Song spent decaying within those beds we
Shared so long ago how could we possibly
Know that man -that man- has come to this?
© K. James Ribble
Dream like the knell’s overhang
To a Proclamation of an auto-da-fé
The scene unfolds like a chanteuse
Sings of evocation in dreams-of-a-dream:
My best friend and I are back in Brooklyn
We are sitting on the Front
Porch of Detroit as my friend
Drives up in his jeep but
The car is soaked in Krispy Kreme
Powdered sugar while we dance the Dance
We practiced all day long
A dance to the tune of a song
I remember but I can’t remember
So I fall back asleep and see myself
As a child maybe two or three and
And I am crying, crying looking for
Consolation as my point of view changes-
Now I look into the face of my young self
Become lucid in the dream – my dream-self
Calms my child-self as I become aware
Dream of quietening my young self
Take both of my lucid dream-hands
Cup the face of this blonde child-self
And look directly into our
Cloudless-Sky eyes:
And my lucid self Knows;
The child is being watched –
Now Aware and awake.
© K. James Ribble
Thespian Drummer 