Month: April 2017

Reminiscent of patriarchy
The echelons of our singing
Are desolate unto themselves, like
Reluctance in the stare of the eagle

Intermittent flame of incessant desire
I become casing of petulant failure, a
Madman mending a sad moon in spite
Of a coldness unlike today’s rain

Open to the statement of the dreams
Comes to a relative point in time
Where faith becomes reason unto its
Own revelations – divine relevance.

This, as I Become, afraid only
Today as if satellites coalesce,
Clandestine moons peak-flow
Their dalliances like peach sentinels

An escape to every pause I set a risk
To be even one-tenth vulnerable –
As if Ocean aire elevates us all, like
Singing a sole vision in grains of light

We only get this one chance
Our ghosts before us lost to lore.

© K. James Ribble

As I embrace you, the
Slow Light of Fades

Spills a Jasmine silk of air,
Embraces night into wisps of

Knowing that I must leave you now
Here in the amphitheater of this time

This catacomb of our restlessness,
Astronomy of our hearts a map

To collisions of us the way stars
Belie the shadow of exile

Of illumination, a library
Of topology our loving cannot follow

This shortness of time becomes
Brackish as water beneath us, my gaze

A window to the candles’ whisper, their
Shadows dancing like leaves

In the flutter of night the way
My sorrow casts its imprint of your face

Upon me – the same light of softness for
Which I cannot be without

And yet your kiss shapes all of me
Together as we rise and dress

The night foregoing our hearts torment
Captive to the daybreak of dawn.

© K. James Ribble

In Hue and Value
The specter of
My voice camps
At pitch to resolve
The surrounds of us
//
A Sun-Dial day
Of Vineyards
Languishing
The hindsight of
Morass in thalo blue
//
As Fire begets regret
A castle of religion
Could not contain me
Once enamored am
I always revealed in
//
Gold Lake of Mirrors
Asleep in the lap of
June – my birth in a
Zephyr of warmth
Now(here) we sighed
//
Of this occurrence
This charity entrusted
To our budding mend like
Salix by our lake I
Weep in Familiar wind
//
Beckoning to me to you
Kept shorn of Luxury
All those memories,
Childhood moments
To all of us, once
//
As passages across
All time each journey
Like children, like
Natives on the road
Of our Return to a
//
Senescent scent of
Sweet susurrus past
On, past all of us:
No one shall be taken
No one shall be lost.

 

© K. James Ribble