Of Earth and Sky

   Ok, here goes...I asked for input on what to post here on M'Habla's! and someone said: poetry. I AM NOT A POET! I never learned the ins and outs of poetry and only very recently figured out the whole syllable thing. Anyway, I do like to take a whack at it from time to time, mainly as a side thing in my books. For instance, the poem on the Chart in A Hole in the Ice, and of course the old prophecy trope.

   I took a trip to Arizona earlier this year and flying always inspires me. I'm way up in the sky, looking down on the strangeness of distant earth and I wax poetic. I remember writing poetry in the sky when I went to New Jersey a few years ago and I had to break out the pen again this time. I wrote about half of 'From Heaven' and a few lines of 'Little Bauble' as impressions from an airplane. So here they are, two little fragments of thought that were written in the sky.

FROM HEAVEN

Little ripples wander ‘oer and yon,

Crease the folds of earth and frowning stone,

Rising suddenly, falling they’re gone,

Stretched out below like a spinal bone,

Distant tableau, set as a table,

I long to taste the fine things beneath,

To eat, if only I were able,

To crush the red rocks between my teeth.

From Heaven, this disk is desolate,

Only the stones. Where are the fountains?

I look around me, the clouds are wet,

I let my gaze fall to the mountains,

Where Heaven shed her frosty white tears,

Where black chasms deep, I see it all,

Tis mine forever, throughout all years,

If I let go, if I jump and fall.

LITTLE BAUBLE

Living thing, yet dead,

Full of life and full of death,

I see your veins, your bones, your spine.

Unbelonging, free, yet you’re mine.

You stretch forever,

Spherical and cubicle,

You draw a veil across your face.

One of millions, the only place.

A little bauble,

Unimportant, essential,

War on your face, endless squabble,

Glittering and consequential.