PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I can smell the darkness
while flecks of Orion are still
falling from the pines.

Restless November looms over
my cherished Autumn

and something has to happen,

but all I want are snapshots
of imagined glory,
streaks of victory
I once named Youth.

Yesterday is all that
matters in these porcelain
days;

such a comforting slumber
when your whole life is locked
inside what was
and what will be.

The earth bleeds while we play.

Half the sky has surrendered,
a black helmet closes in
and the war is spilling
through the trees:

blood and gold,
glowing in the moment.

A perfect death.

Soul-light dances to the
melody of now, but still
we live in tomorrow
or yesterday
or whatever feels no pain.

But nothing green will stay.
What we love will shatter us;
hold it now
before its absence makes us
long for this one
immaculate second,

before we are a soul
hungering for the body
that made us whole

and willing to sell
that very soul for another 
day with the fragile,
beating heart we believed
would never stop.

Love may last forever,
but we prove it just once
in one flash of gilded light,
in one season
we call life.

Patricia Joan Jones