Tag Archives: Time

“Summer Interlude”

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Perseids Meteor Shower by JP Danko pic 2

Ivy and honeysuckle climb
forbidden picket fences,
alabaster butterflies alight
upon the foxgloves,
lavender fields are fragrant
in the silver glow
of summer twilight —

I watch the seasons dance
upon your face,
feel the temperate breezes
heal
our winter-charred arms —

youth returns
if only for a fleeting moment
when amethyst and beryl,
topaz and peridot
explode
against the sapphire sky
of your smiling eyes —

I catch
diamonds and meteors
into the willow basket
of my daily bread.

D. G. Vachal © 2016

 

*** Photography Credit: Perseids Meteor by J.P. Danko

Let Not the Words of my Silence

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Valery Chichkin - At the end of the day

Let not the words of my silence
engulf you with thoughts
that I am gone —

I am here

Despite the absence
of the warmth of my palms
upon your face

I am here —

Though my song is only
palpable in the coolness
of the summer breeze,
caught in the scent
of flowering meadows

I am here

Through the stealthy moments
while the verdant
leaves turn
from emerald to garnet,
topaz to platinum,
silver to earthen dust —

I am here,
I am always here.

by D. G. Vachal © 2014

Photography by Valery Chichkin – “At the End of the Day”

“The Times for Telling of Thy Wondrous Works”

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Early Morning by Assen Alekov

The Times for Telling of Thy Wondrous Works

The times for telling of Thy wondrous works
are measured in mysterious cups of gold,
in ladles of the cauldron’s spicéd broth,
in teaspoons of the leaven for the bread.

There comes a daylight for the larks to sing,
a nighttime darkness for the silent sigh,
when eyes shed tears that sparkle with the stars,
awaken ‘midst the dewdrops on the grass.

Unknown to me tomorrow’s  paths to take,
You guide me with Your ever loving Eye,
and step by step with laughter will I take,
I walk beneath the shadow of Thy wings.

The times for telling of Thy wondrous works
are numbered with life’s tapestry of threads,
of countries and of people I have met,
the times, I know, my times are in Thy Hand.

D. G. Vachal © 2014

*** Photography Credit: Early Morning by Assen Alekov

“Of Bread and Hunger”

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by D. G. Vachal 2
The days ride the chariot of the whirlwind:
tomorrow’s sun is yet to be appointed —
you hold this moment’s gold, this second’s gem.

Today is bread that feeds your hunger,
strength for constricted hands
that throb to open to those in need,
(always, there are those in need)
bestow kindness even to those unkind.

Give, give of this bread,
this bread of today,
each broken crumb of every fleeting second,
scatter with abandon to reach
the hungry mouths,
even the birds of the air,
the beasts of the field —

As you give of your daily bread,
verily you will be fed.

D. G. Vachal © 2014

“Winter Interim of the Heart”

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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