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over-shoulder weather
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Over‑Shoulder Weather
I have walked the length of my sentence
long after the gates unlatched,
counting the gravel underfoot
as if each stone might still accuse.
The years have grown moss over my name,
but transgression carved into memory’s vestibule
means there is always one chair turned away,
its back carved with the shape of my absence.
I have mended the fence,
stitched the torn sleeve,
poured water into the roots I once scorched—
but the wind still carries
a syllable I cannot unhear.
So I move,
but not without the weight of glancing—
a pilgrim with a mirror in his pack,
catching the ghost of my own retreat.
And forward is a road
that keeps folding back on itself,
a loop of weathered timber and rain‑dark stone,
where even the horizon
wears my shadow like a borrowed coat,
and the door I step through
is always the same vestibule.
.
I have been reading Poetry
I have been reading Poetry for over half a century. Yet, when I read yours, I feel like I am just starting out because your verbal skill is so invocative, evocative, and provocative. Your Poems function at what might be called the very frontier of the English language where power and strength of words is renewed beyond the mundane ways in which most of us use them. Reading your words is very much like a mystical experience; reading your words is always, and ever shall be, a Privilege.
Starward-Led [in Chrismation, Januarius]
Your words touch me more
Your words touch me more deeply than I can express.
To know that my poetry resonates with someone who has lived a lifetime with verse is both humbling and profoundly moving.
I’m grateful beyond measure that the images and rhythms I shape can stir such feeling and offer a sense of renewal.
Thank you for this generous gift of encouragement; it will stay with me as I continue to write.
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver