Tag: Reflections

“Winter Interim of the Heart”

by Eugene Dudarev
There is a winter interim of the heart
when a million white butterflies descend
from ripened cocoons in the sky,
soundless wings flutter,
cluster into spools of wool
for the weaving loom.

Surrounded by the starkness of white
you search for rainbow colors
only to find an empty, outstretched
canvas upon the easel,
an artist’s paintbrush, a pail of gesso,
your naked hands.

There is a winter interim of the heart,
a jagged juncture of time when you discard
easel and paintbrush,
for the weaving of wool,
the molding of sculptures
steadfast in the evanescent snow.

by D. G. Vachal © 2014

*** Photography by Eugene Dudarev

“Once Before”

Reflect by Mikhail Tkachev
I stood here once before
on this waltzing floor
deserted by the petals —

upon the frockless windows
zirconias congregate in constellation
patterns,
beyond the glass the skeletal
boughs bend
with the watchet wind.

the balance sheet bleeds white
as yesterday’s snow,  air-crisp
against the seeping eastern light —

reluctant legs lunge
from the starting line
once again.

D. G. Vachal © 2014

*** Photography: Reflect by Mikhail Tkachev

“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