Tag: poetry

“November the Penultimate”


November the Penultimate

Never was a month so motley in its days:
November, penultimate month
of a year that frames the seasons,
when the leaves in early days
turn to brightest garnet,
a blazing topaz,
illuminated gold —

The latter days come
with the fire of the winds,
and the burning leaves take the plunge
from infernal towers of the branches
to the burial grounds of a gun-
metal, brumal earth —

November, November,
calves ache from the marathon,
hearts pound the door
to another December

When holly berries huddle upon the petals
of the soft-spoken snow,
and the fallen leaves breathe again
at the sound of the carols of the children,
the children rejoicing.

D. G. Vachal © 2013

Photography Credit: November’s Decline by Bucaneve

“Accustomed to the Warmth”

Ka Olina Palm Trees - by D G Vachal
Accustomed to the Warmth

Pacific waters glitter
with sparkling emeralds,
dazzling diamonds,
bronze feet amble
through bleached white sugar sands,
brown eyes watch palm trees sway
in a Tahitian dance.

I was accustomed to the warmth,
a stranger to the cold,
when Fate carried me on her wings
to a distant place
(could it have been Faith)
where winter has a stake
for an eternal tenure.

I brave the numbness
in the cold,
await the return
of lambent green hours,
the embrace
of pale, quivering shoulders
once again.

Through frost and wind
and lashing rain,
rebirths of grass,
while lost in palettes of sunsets
and variable
shades of dawn,
I have grown

accustomed to the warmth,
familiar with the cold,
as seasons weave the mottled
tapestries of life,
brown eyes watch pine trees stand:
stalwart guards of each passing
full-orbed year.

by D. G. Vachal © 2012-2013

morning-picture-with-harmonious-pines-by-archimond1

...revised version of “Accustomed to the Warmth”, 2012

Photography:   1). Ka Olina Palm Trees by D. G. Vachal
                        2). Morning  Picture with Harmonious Pines by Archimond @ Flickr Commons

“October Sunset”

october-sunset-by-deirdra-vachal-21
October Sunset

How many sunsets have I missed
while threading needles,
tending the hearth,
kneading the flour
for our daily bread —

Today
I chanced upon a sunset:
a brilliant bonfire in the sky
of apricot flames,
periwinkle smoke,
while autumnal leaves ripen
for the harvest —

bequeath the gold and rubies
to the children of spring.

by D. G. Vachal © 2013

*** photography by D. G. Vachal

“A Lion In Autumn”


A Lion In Autumn

Autumn and the reddening leaves
bask in the glow of an Indian summer sun,
I run through the wind in cambric
playtime clothes,
laughter explodes upon my face,
there is a warmth,
an amber warmth that lingers
in this momentary breath
of treasured hours —

I trace the furrows upon his face,
watch infinite shades
of a tangerine sunset
as I listen to stories of the times
when the olive groves were heavy
with fruit,
the songs of lemon blossoms
plenteous as raindrops
upon the dark green leaves —

Now the lion that prowled
through emerald forests
walks in slow, ordered steps,
protruding bones define the sagging,
golden fur,
he holds my arm,
I walk with him,
he and I
no longer swept
in the quick-footed dance
of my elusive childhood —

Time stands still,
palpable as the immutable truth
that luminescent stars sparkle
eternal in the heavens,
and the warmth that lingers
on this jasmine-white day
burns like a candle,
an obstinate flame that glows
eternal in my heart,
no matter the winter,
no matter the cold.

by D. G. Vachal © 2013

*** Image: Autumn by Denizler