Category: Life

Voices at the Door

Voices at the Door

fingerprints
on the ribbed window pane
crust crumbs
on the kitchen floor
apple cider bubbling
on the stove —

where have the children gone
I hug them in the warmth
of hearth fires,
hear their laughter
in the songs
of the autumn wind —

leaves plummet in violent swirls
like flocks of sandpipers
landing on the shore
topaz and rubies fade
into the salmon sky —

before winter comes
I long to hear
“the steps returning
and voices at the door” .

D. G. Vachal © 2024

* “the steps returning and voices at the door” is a passage from J. R. R. Tolkien’s poem ” I Sit Beside the Fire and Think”

Image by J Plenio @pixabay

Autumn in the Gloaming

Autumn
in the long platinum
light of the gloaming
when pearls of time arrive and depart
with the wind-swept leaves —

I feel your nearness
your gazing eyes are falling stars
from the ebony sky,
your tender voice rustles the fern fronds
as you call my name —

tell me,
have I spoken your name with tenderness
at suspended moments
before the turning of a hundred seasons —

beyond the ocean tides of forgetting
have you come back to remember
what I have already forgotten —

Autumn in the gloaming,
mottled colors
cloaked in the deep purple mist
of my remembrances.

D. G. Vachal © 2024

Image by James Wheeler @ Pixabay

Could I Have Loved You More

Could I Have Loved You More

could I have loved you more
at moments  
when my heart
refrained from speaking —

would I at springtime sing
with tulips and apple blossoms
when as for love
there are no words?

silent was I in summer
amidst the warbled
music of bluebirds,
silent still
when peonies bloomed
scarlet
upon the velvet grass —

in autumn splendor
could I have loved you more
standing there
adorned in sunset gold and amethyst,
my muted syllables
would be stifled
by the melody
of violins and woodwinds —

when winter ivory feathers
clothe the swaying birch branches
would there be words of colors
to paint a love
more than a heart
can hold?

D. G. Vachal © 2024

Image by Alain Audet @pixabay

My Father and the Jasmine Flowers

My Father and the Jasmine Flowers

street waifs
stringing white flowers
into long, fragrant necklaces,
plucked them from the sky
shook them from the tall green bushes
until they fell like rain upon the grass —-
 
jasmine necklaces sold
for devout señoras to wear
at Flores de Mayo processions
five centavos for all that work,
three
if señoras haggled long enough —-

were you one of the little ones
hands baked by the sun,
wide-eyed,
barefoot,
hungry?

how time comes and leaves
so swiftly
as in half a breath,
as in a hurried dream,
and for whatever
reason there may have been
I came to be —-

older folks would tell me
you walked miles to school,
no centavos for a ride,
and your classmates laughed and sneered
as they rode the bus and passed you by,
you walked on
carrying your dreams 
in your heart.

how time comes and leaves
so swiftly
as in half a breath,
as in a hurried dream,
and you are gone —-

tonight
as I recall the tales of folks
from long ago
I drench my pillow
with the fragrant tears
of white jasmine flowers
through the midnight hours,
into the break of dawn.

D. G. Vachal © 2024

Image by Oom Endro @ Pixabay

Beyond the Forgetting

Beyond the Forgetting

Under the waning moon
and buried light
of forgotten sunsets
stealthy diamonds gleam
in the nebulous sky
but the heart of darkness
roams blind and wild
drowned in flashbacks
of furtive flesh-cuttings
from silent sword slashes —

I dare not ask
nor should you —

beyond the forgetting
billows of white-capped
waves return
birthed
by the half-lit moon.

D. G. Vachal © 2024