The Carriage Lamp

The Carriage Lamp

Among the many things we share, Anna and I are Sherlockians, and thus enamored of the late nineteenth century, before the car, when horses and carriages were very important. Under this heading, The Carriage Lamp, evocative of those bygone, romantic days, we will on occasion include original poems, either hers or mine. The title poem is given below, and just below the divider you will see the most recent addition.

A carriage lamp lit as the night comes down

To hang upon the roofs.

Then through the foggy streets of town,

The sound of hoofs.

He’s come for me

In a horse drawn coach

As he has before.

I watch the lantern’s light approach

And hasten to the door.

“Come, my dear, and let us ride!

The coach light leads us on.

Through the night, sit by my side

Till break of dawn.”

---

Winter Trees

Sky shows through at last -

The sun, the overcast,

The daytime moon,

The stars at night -

Tall and bare, the winter trees

Let in light -

Come ice and snow,

Come winter’s blast,

Fall on your knees!

Fringe

A fringe only,

Red of red maple,

Yellow gold, another,

Pink of winter cherry

Struggling to bloom.

In a moment of light

Together, then gone

Before the day is done.

But at least that.

Novembers Past

   The trees distinguish themselves

   Individually, showing their true colors:

   Red maple, yellow maple,

   Yellow edged in red,

   Copper beech, bronze oak,

   And the cherries, 

   Diaphanous on their borders.

   One day they declare themselves:

   Some deafening crimson,

   Some whispering coral,

   Some blending a dissonance of red and green.

   The maple was red one day,

   And on the next, the ground was red,

   The maple bare,

   A flimsy scaffold of anonymous twigs.

This November

Joe Pye weed waves its amber flags,

Marsh grass browns,

Goldenrod blossoms,

Every tree is bonneted with vine

And algae blooms all over the place.

Dogwoods reliably russet,

Maples struggle to show coral,

Oaks and poplar give up dead leaves

Standing bare too soon.

Autumn,

No sun -

Singing alone,

The last cricket -

My November Guest

My sorrow when she's here with me

Thinks these dark days of autumn rain

Are beautiful as days can be.

She loves the bare, the withered tree,

She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.

She talks and I am fain to list.

She's glad the birds are gone away,

She's glad her simple worsted grey

Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,

The faded earth, the heavy sky,

The beauties she so truly sees,

She thinks I have no eye for these,

And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know

The love of bare November days

Before the coming of the snow,

But I were vain to tell her so,

And they are better for her praise.

        - Robert Frost

Borders

The ends of days and seasons,

The hollow stillness when the songbirds roost

And the swifts and bats etch the empty twilight

With the magnificent, dark line drawings

That silhouette our joys -

The ends are what I have yearned after:

Of storybook days that pass unsensed,

Until shadow sweeps to the tops of trees,

And the sky becomes the border, unpatrolled,

Unending, of the black unknown.

Flocks

   A flock of birds blows across the sky -

   A flock of leaves blows down

   A sunny blizzard -

   Revealing their true colors

   They skitter through the yard

   Racing towards me in the wind -

Autumnal

A fringe of shimmering leaves

Catches the lukewarm light

Glancing from a south setting sun -

Exciting once, now

A terrible pure sadness,

The tinge of romance

Distilled from it.

The smoke of a bonfire,

Crickets falling asleep in the cold -

Half hearted laughter

Catches in the throat

Of a soul long dead.

October

   Reds made redder,

   Yellows, gold,

   The sky made bluer,

   Clear and cold.

   Clouds made pink

   At dusk and dawn,

   Dew made diamonds

   Spread on the lawn.

   Nights made longer

   For bats and ghouls,

   Grinning pumpkins,

   Snag-toothed fools.

   October flames out,

   The fire soon dead,

   But now its glow

   Makes reds more red.

Dismal Day

Air sits indecisive on the lungs,

Neither hot nor cold, dry nor wet -

The vacant sky an imbecilic blank.

What is earth to make of disorderliness?

Trees missing seasons, 

Birds bewildered,

Life stands by

Dismal witness,

Whimpering as the world ends.

Air sits on the lungs,

 A constant 30 barometric,

Mercury hovers on 70 Fahrenheit.

Furnaces idle while skin is cold.

No masses of air,

No tropical storms.

What are we to make of the sky?

Solid grey cataract eye,

Cataleptic witness,

Whimpering.

Autumn Drought

Leaves fall down, dead,

Not yellow, not red,

Nor the soft coral blends.

A tinge of color only, on the ends

Of maple branch, of oak bough,

Making red of brown somehow

In waning light

Of gathering night.

Leaves fall down

Already brown,

Not red. Dead.

Druid

Trees disrobe,

Strip to their naked colors,

Distinguish themselves,

A gaudy Turkey rug

Over the forest,

Never so red, never so yellow,

Infinite blending of each.

Gone the uniform of summer,

The green hijab.

Now lining the road,

A harlequin quilt,

Soon laid bare,

Stripped to the beautiful bones.

Rest now, my lovely ones!

Autumn Song

Clouds drop low on mountains high,

Hang like drapes

In graceful shapes,

Blur the line of sky.

On and off, cool showers

Dampen hearts

With fits and starts,

Yet bless remaining flowers.

Come autumn winds, blow bold,

Sweep the clouds,

Draping shrouds,

Awake our souls to cold!

September

As much if not more

Than the ripening of apples and pumpkins,

As much if not more

Than the chilly air, the yellows and reds

Revealed resplendent,

Infinite shades in the leaves,

It is the shadows of the leaves

Dancing on the floor,

A last dance

Before the fall.

Southward

Moving south,

Sun shortens the days,

Leaves place for the cool peace

Of night to take -

Plunging toward the equipoise of equinox,

Then deeper,

Rays only glancing treetops,

To the dark rest of solstice!

Rents

   Rents in the green drape of summer,

   Dead leaves below,

   One then two then four,

   Falling begins unnoted

   Until stiff winds bare trees.

   Sky is seen again

   Through rents in the clouds,

   Sun, moon, stars!

Latter Day

One by one, swept away,

The graceful and the lovely things,

Butterflies with motley wings,

Birds that sang at break of day!

China tea cups, silver spoons,

Sparkling wine in crystal glasses,

Violins, plaintive tunes,

When we were merry lads and lasses!

Recall the latter day

Before at our behest

All of this was swept away,

No place to hide, no rest.

Driven out by a ruthless tide

We vanquished -

And we died -

August

   Summer mingles with fall -

   One takes the day, one the night.

   Locusts wane as crickets tune -

   Heated buzzing,

   Baleful intermittence.

   Hips of rugosa blaze to orange,

   Clashing with the last pink blooms -

   August dissonance.

Wetland

Marsh grass browns,

Goldenrod blossoms,

Joe Pye weed

Waves its amber flags,

Every tree is bonneted with vine,

And algae blooms all over the place!

Forget-me-not

With my breakfast tea,

Sweet as it can be,

Forget-me-not!

Morning pick me up,

Blooming on my cup

And round the pot,

Symbol good or bad,

A message to be had

For all to see,

Not the violet’s preening,

Redolent of meaning:

Remember me!

South Wind

Swamp breath, hot and wet -

Not a chill to squeeze out dew -

Try not to breathe - 

Ironical!

Fish smother in water -

Gills notwithstanding.

Swamp breath, fetid and pestilent -

Desert heat, lethal when indexed -

No chill but death -

On shores stolen by the tide

We died - 

Humanity notwithstanding.

Ah, Summer!

Pillow clouds parade

Across the sky,

Pillow sails across the bay,

Knifing the glassy water

Into spray,

Hilarity bobs, buoyed by the day!

Locusts

Fiery hot -

Locusts hammer and saw

From trees thick and tall -

Chainsaw and jackhammer

The day long -

While chirp and song

From cool wet grass -

Crickets are

Lovers of night -

Lay Them Down

Loved ones dead and gone,

Passions of youth,

Painful desire,

Unanswered dreams - 

Lay them down.

Shifting shapes,

Of seasons, bodies,

The checkerboard of day and night, 

Heat and cold,

Birth, death,

The tangled web of thoughts,

Lay them down.

Now I lay me down

To sleep.

The Way

   In having,

   There is loss.

   In losing,

   Joyous echoes.

   When the tide is high, 

   Sense its ebbing.

   When it recedes,

   Recall the fullness.

   To rise or to fall,

   To have or to lose.

   Abide in these unities

   Unperturbed.

Moon

   Full and white, rising,

   A pearl if you will,

   Glowing and rough,

   Snagged in the lace of limbs,

   Or in weaver's orb just at dusk,

   A cobweb frill.

   Rising, full and white,

   It climbs out,

   Pearl of oyster shell,

   To sail the black ocean of the night.

Sparrow Song

   Just a chirp 

   From the immigrant house sparrow

   On the city streets -

   All day long hear the

   "Sweet, sweet, canada, canada, canada"

   Of the white-throated -

   Over fields 

   The prima donna song sparrow

   Performs its tripart 

   "Here, here, here! Trrrrrrrrr

   Cheerup, cheerup."

   Lowly sparrows all!

The Storm

   Thunder growls

   Slow, long, loud -

   Rain lashes the pane,

   Patters on

   Filling gutters,

   Ponds, buckets, barrels -

   Rising rills spill over sills,

   Flooding, floating all manner of things -

   Thunder growls,

   Rain lashes on,

   On, on, on, on,          

   Till fish drown -

Monsoon Time

The clouds grow dark

With rolls of thunder,

Monsoon time, no wonder,

The steamy air, the lightning spark,

The rain enraged,

At war with heat,

While life encaged

In grim defeat,

Looks with hope to morning,

Innocent of the warning,

Tempest in the rolling thunder,

The future will pull all asunder!

Merry Month

Bees are buzzing -

Birds are building -

Buds are bursting into burgeoning blooms -

Bumblers bumble

On the blowing blossoms -

Raucous revelling resumes!

Growing Season

Within days

The filigree of limbs

Will be obscured by leaves,

A green canopy will hide the sky,

And on the forest floor

Moss will green,

Ferns unfurl their furry fiddleheads.

The long sultry season will insinuate

Within days.

Natives

   Dogwood in white linen,

   Dressed against the chill.

   At her feet,

   Violets grip the earth

   And spread their fans,

   Hardly shrinking.

Clashing Seasons

Shaggy trees sprouting red -

A full beard begins -

The fringe will be shed

In a lusty breeze, when green of summer wins!

Dogwood and redbud flower,

Vanilla raspberry,

Telling of spring’s power -

Summer be wary!

Soft Spring

Soft spring,

Pale on the trees,

Twilight's slanted glow

Lingering on window panes.

So came the end of days

Long, long ago,

Now memories,

Pale and soft

In spring.

April

Violets blooming on the first -

April fools -

Cherry blossoms swell and burst -

Rosy jewels -

Breezes send

Now warmth, now chill -

The jonquils bend

To April's will -

Dogwoods too, while April rules,

Do their parts -

Violets, no shrinking fools,

Purple hearts!

Spring Reflections

Pink sunset clouds in spring

Seen reflected

On windows, lighting everything,

A cherry shade unexpected.

Then to darkness, fading fast

As the sun sinks.

Mixing cherry pinks

With gray, and gone at last.

Watch on the window panes:

Night comes on, day wanes,

Spring reflected as expected.

Coming Forth

Forsythia whispers of yellow -

The swollen redbud hears -

Willow puts out a green fringe -

Tathagata -

Luna

   Round and full and white,

   Rising through the thick bare trees,

   The quiet of reflected light,

   Mother of pearl in glowing orbit,

   Some few arise to catch the sight,

   To those few subtle lunatics transfixed

   Bring peace, bring night!

Twigs

   Twigs lie strewn on the lawn,

   Skeletal hands grasping at ankles.

   From all angles a cold sun glares,

   Glancing blows of light

   Off blind eyes whipped by wind.

   Small and white, the crocus

   Braves March.

Silence

In silence -

Buds swell and burst.

Without a sound -

Cells divide, limbs lengthen.

Unnoticed -

 A thought twines through my brain.

Unsung -

A song blooms in my mind.

Listen -

In the growing silence

To all things that grow

And pass in silence..

The Backs of Houses

Exposed through bare trees,

The backs of houses:

A bedroom balcony -

A light that burns all night -

A wasted garden bed,

All dead -

In alleyways once for horses, 

Feral cats,

Sinister rats -

Dead cold moonrise

Through bare limbs,

Over the backs of houses.

Swans

The mute swan is not called upon

To speak,

But is prized for his beauty,

Peace and grace.

He grows old

Very quietly.

Never called upon, he is mute about

The black swan,

Mythical, terrible, improbable;

But the mute

Never tells what he knows

Unless called

To speak.

Sun in Winter

From august height,

Old growth trees look down

Upon the sun,

White in the gray sky,

Caught in a tangle of twigs

Above a cataract frost.

Still, for all its trouble

With thick cloud and haughty trees,

It swallows me with light.

Frostbite

Raucous geese fly over glistening frost.

Through bitter cold, pure light

Graces tall trees,

Blesses all it sees.

All is right,

All is not lost,

All is never lost!

A New Coat

   In the muffled night of snow,

   Lights make soft shapes,

   Chimneys smoke from rounded roofs,

   Trees stand cold and still,

   Etching on fog,

   As about them gathers

   A new white coat.

New Year

   The sun drips,

   Golden finger paint through trees,

   As our time slips through fingers.

   It is all about slipping,

   And falling

   Beneath the horizon,

   Beyond the threshold,

   Falling into night, slipping into light,

   Our fingers dripping with time.

Another Christmas

   Christmas full of jollity,

   Snow upon the holly tree,

   Friends and foes too much for me!

   Scrooge died anyway you see.

(48)Christmas

   Upon the emptiness of time,

   Upon the falling off of life

   Into the hollow spaces,

   Absent teeth, absent flesh,

   Absent love and hope,

   Upon the darkness gathering

   Faster and faster - 

   Christmas, alight and full,

   Casts a final glow,

   Catching the breath.

   Even the last.