Those Dixie Storms

Claps of thunder and wisps of coastal winds give signal to the storm approachin',
Drops of a bitter-sweet rain trace down my face...wetting my lips and clearing my frown.


I hear myself whisper - "A truce must be drawn"...between the warrior within, and the coward without.
The cobblestones echo my footsteps as the day seems to hasten below the horizon...

Magnolias and giant Oak canopy the path to the old plantation, and granite stones;
scribed reminders of former generations dot the grave just past the old barn...
now dilapidated and ignored from years of indifference.


I remember growing up here - the heat, the slow pace of life, the white sands, the Live Oaks and Palmettos and of course.....those Dixie Storms.They come...like sheets of celophane racing across the fields, soon to drench the ground and the cobblestone lanes; the rains mirror the fury of the gusts...
tossing each and every raindrop like marbles dropped from a bucket - escorted by a celestial drum corps of thunder and cymbal claps...

How I do miss those Dixie Storms.


Gregory Sexton

Through the Flame

"Through the Flames (When I look in your eyes)"

 

 I stoke the the embers and another log catches while releasing another plume of smoke into the night skies...

I see the fire light dancing upon your face and in your eyes looking through the flames back at me, and mine pretending not to notice.

In silence...you are asking me questions that I want to answer... and all the while i too want to ask...

It it true that we are born to love... my friend?

Should we search the hills and valleys for our other?

 When do we surrender, and aquiesce to the castings of fate?

Or do we?

What do I see in your eyes...eyes I've never seen?

I too wonder who you are...

My vision is born of the Heart...

I see the warmth of a friend ...

whispering assurances that all is well.

I see the beauty of the heavens in all their grandeur,

and pale in comparison to your beauty. I see two souls alike....

perhaps like the sparks from this fire...

we have taken similiar paths...

I see the flames dancing in your eyes...

 ....and now I am burning... like the fire before us.

(Gregory)

Report profile image violation

The Leaving Time

" The Leaving Time"




Through the tangled branches,
I see the hues of scottish tartan hills...
i see the hints of sunlit fingers reaching
this dark forest floor,
to stroke my cold body,
warming me...
deliberate and steadfast,
the darkness becomes less so...
i am leaving this place now...
where i hid from myself...and from you.
walking, but not running...
glancing back,
but once.

I leave.

Introspect (dazed and left wondering)

I wish you could analyse me...
I wish you would.

Write a chapter for me.

Tell what you see,
what you hear me saying...
because i can't seem to see myself anymore...
i can't hear my voice.

it reverberates the abode of a strange place,
a foreign land...

I don't recognise my face...
i don't see the newness in mine eye,
just confusion...and a tear.
racing in parallels,
questioning every fear.

I wish you could analyse me...
tell me what i see is worthy of sight.

I wish you would analyse me...
and tell me what i hear is beauteous,
and not discordant and brash.

I am weak now,
but i will be strong again...
Humpty Dumpty has fallen...
where there are no "King's Men"...
there is Self.

G.

When Blue was Green (Thanks Miles)

Before the fall...
when blue was green,
i could see the exception to every rule,
the Light would shine through every seam.

When blue was green -
your face captured me...
your eyes downward turning,
the smile that saved me from my own
tempest...my own darkness...my silly plea.

Green they were,
the hills...the valley to the east,
your eyes.

Blue now hides the rainbows,
blue now covers mine eyes...
glimpses of green
still  swipe the landscape...
oils the painter left behind.

When Blue was Green.

(Gregory)

My last breath...

The days ahead of us are never written in stone,
only the impressions of the past are due their memories.

As I look to the future I wonder when I will  take
my last breath,
where will It be?
will I be alone or will someone be holding my hand,
attending to my last glance?

Silly thoughts such as these ensnare my attentions from
time to time...
and yet they bring my focus to bear upon the
ultimate reality..
So as these last days hurry by and run swiftly away to
another place and another time,
I will allow the tea leaves cast the lots of the unassuming;


I pray that in my hearts-mind....to have tasted your lips,
to  have touched your face...
to have held you in soft embrace...

....

Song of the Multitudes

Song of the multitudes"




I serve the order, the kings, the wealthy,

until mine fingers swell and numb...

I roll the wheels,

when the night watch beats the drum.

....to this fate i am forever bound i ask?



....she paints her face to lure their attentions...

to sweep the night alleys,

with her long dress of red...

tis' this life she has grown accustomed to,

and each breath she draws with solemn dread.

......to this fate is she forever bound she asks?



...a trick for a pound,

...a broken hand for a pence...

nar' enough for crumbs and a drink,

not this night,

no...not this night...



Gregory.