"Obscure, Iridescent", "Through the Mists of Ancient Glen" & "Tales to Remember" by Lawrence Moore
- 5 hours ago
- 2 min read
Obscure, Iridescent
My love is a multicoloured, sparkly thing,
resides upon tree, below butterfly’s underwing;
concealed in the pattern of starling and sparrow flight,
serene through the ages, revealed when the moment right.
It’s there on the breeze, with each first flake of winter snow,
approaches and leaves as it pleases (thinks no one knows),
freewheels through the ether, forms various cloud constructs,
expands under surface, still trickles down mountain bluff,
cascades round the river, remaining, since long ago,
obscure, iridescent thing better known as love.
Through the Mists of Ancient Glen
Just be yourself, however hard that seems
when every signpost points the other way;
surveyors of forlorn, forgotten schemes
still call to memory, all dreams betray.
Ignoring cadence of such hollow cries,
resisting every urge to shuffle feet,
let daytime find the whos and wheres and whys;
as head meets pillow, know the day complete.
There is a place I journey, now and then,
where I no longer care about the past,
secluded through the mists of ancient glen,
relearned by neither wand, nor wizard staff;
in future years, returned to once again,
still penitent, though warming to the task.
Tales to Remember
Today,
I forgot to be angry
as morning sun
disappeared her face,
perceiving neither wisdom,
nor grace
in wallow.
Debunked
destructive intentions
when the raindrops
began to flow,
this afternoon’s washing
soaked
to pristine foundations.
By lunchtime,
my roses smelled sweeter
on her dulcet rays’ return,
inviting smaller creatures,
likewise emboldened.
Wriggling,
twitching,
from openings
sparser,
deeper,
we arrived
on our scene,
reconvened
(though in separate ways).
Spun tales to remember
come moribund,
cloud-filled days.