The Calendar

Staring at the wall calendar
I see uncharted territory

my life in a vast overture
of unknowns like finding sea

glass in the frequency of hours
fading on the shores of lost time –

In the distance I see a
vision outlined in counted

numbers of chance and risk,
a viewing of the open plain

and the horizon cast in thunder,
a sweep of clouds pouring rain

on an endless plateau bearing
the view of uncertainty, emerging

from the cirrus that forms the
sum of my life – but in a way that

powers me forward no longer
counting for the gravity of fear

or aversion to risk – So my time
here becomes a founding, a patient

regard for sacred promises made
to myself long ago – as the calendar

keeps it’s infinite future I begin again
as witness to an understanding:

my time remains the art and practice
of Love – learning to love myself as I am

and loving you in the gift we call Life.

 

© K. James Ribble

The Blue of Forever

A haste of sun-drenched shores
quiver from your infinite love,
fills the cumulus of time
In a stand still of air and light –
a motionary tribute to the sounds
of your heart, in subtle movements
of longing, quenched by your
Dreaming, forming the fragrance
of water, air and the rains of Spring
in a candor of our glistening romance
the incarnate reflection of memory
becomes the sunlit blue of our forever.

 

© K. James Ribble

Without, I Am

Before I knew you, your
breath within my eyes

an inhale of your heart
that forms a façade of light

in words left unspoken
falling to us in generations

placed in edifice
of stone and stripe

the glare of western light,
as distraction in deflection

placed blithely at our feet
of these glass mountains

as reminiscence forming
our memory tipped in

the lace and veil of night,
from the very songs of you

your melody washed in the
morning light of Innocence

borne of yesterday’s youth
forged in the pain of living

matured by the grief of
understanding

now revealed in a longing,
these lost years of I

vaporous in the corridors
of my time without me,

jeremiad as the
cedars of Huron where

our ancient mythos
enshrines us dreaming,
long before our time.

 

© K. James Ribble

Sunrise

The languor of sunrise
strikes me found
calling to lost segments
of a dream diminished
now discursive as
the platinum-grey of memory
becomes the afterwards, garrulous
in the current, fluid
waters of life –

a taciturn instance this
          flow of my heart
now swells with the
         summer’s silken winds

cantilevered & married
in a tempest of thought
bearing precious thunder
rolling like a
godhead of my days
a variant ilk
scorched in love
(so much love)

that I dream awake,
in the flowering of my
own life’s loving,
the crimson blues
aloft a star-filled sky
hung as light-trains
scattered
in a rear view mirror
of every decade
to every Now.

 
© K. James Ribble