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forever autumn


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Al-ESH-XfQc
Forever Autumn. The Moody Blues. (1978)

Early autumn firelight
reminiscent of witch hunts, ghosts of calvary,
dire warnings and endless hide and strike
The game, the funhouse, turns deadly
Sanctuary calls, demanding sacrifice
The noble phoenix fed on frankenseed
can not rise

Skies descend, dark mirroring
Smell the woodsmoke, intoxicating, soft and sweet,
masks the taste of bitter bile, secret vomiting,
starving despite harvest's gay array of treats
Faded, nearly blind, falling in and out of
shamanic fever, primeval native callings beyond sight,
ripple of tribal beat at the periphery
ecstatic vision dark/light/agony and brilliant breaks
starbright constellations



In deep field dreams
rustic woodfire comfort
blesses autumn morn


October


Entering into a joy of its own,
love long subdued, yet never
denied . . .
Deeply buried, muffled calls from
memory's tomb.
Embedded in layers, perennial autumn leaves.
Empty years
temporarily deluged by tears
tumbling like coins
through torn clothing.
Hard earned but never spent;
I weep for you.

Entering into a joy of its own,
elation of interchange incomplete.
Crepuscular darkness of Autumn,
solemn, ancient, descending,
anticipates consummation.



Look!
Through autumn branches
Hunter Moon



Autumn Calls a Prologue to Fall


Settle into Sun setting, calling leaves, days diminishing.
Secret senses sing, startling mysteries, dense synchronicities.
Gathering hunters leap to frenzied victory, pray to
craved largesse,
darkening forest, deepening tales, shadow deities.
Ritual beauty, fierce death/wild rebirth.

Energy dervishes, drunk from fruits of Earth, swirl
into ecstasy; face becoming. Sun dies from Western skies.
Realign.



Life, the Universe and Everything
(for Patty)

 Let's talk about life
 the one you have and the one you imagined . . .
 With all the world of possibilities,
 what have you settled for?
 Waking up in the cool, cool morning
 Autumn crisp -- as your lungs reach for air
 The sounds, the smells, the awaited adventures
 Anticipation . . .
 Or merely another day?
 Do you long for love in the dark, dusky evening?
 Do you count the countless stars,
 knowing a miracle is on its way?
 Has the chill of eternity captured your imagination?
 What anchors you to Earth?
 What makes you want to stay?
 A journey of a thousand destinies
 Written deep within your soul
 Traveling daily through all the possibilities
 Which are the parts that make you whole?



Diamonds and Rust

"Diamonds and Rust" like Joanie says
memories, I mean
 lovers.
I saw you tonight with your San Francisco cut
and that old double-edged blade
went piercing through my heart
leaving me bleeding
 memories
 long through this autumn night
 of no-sleep blues and golds
 and rusty burnished reds
 that cut like diamonds.

I call to you in fevered dreams
that leave me gasping,
haunting all through the dreary day.
Can't escape that sudden urgency.
Just like days gone by. You don't answer.
You don't hear me through all that mass
-- your own driving imperative.
We meet so seldom
separation so long.
We are like strangers.
Yet times we have touched, one to one,
to perfection,
 have been one strength and impulse
 have known such intimacy . . .
I call to you now,
Hearing your voice in every song of romance.



A Vignette

It was a simple house in a simple town.
The road was long and winding.
Two men sat on the road.
They were playing cards.
One man had a bottle which was occasionally passed.
They were not playing for any stakes,
But as an excuse for companionship.
It was a simple house in a simple town.
Old gnarled, stately tall trees formed a woods
 that lined the roadway.
It was noon, but the day was overcast;
 not dark, but pleasantly muted.
It was autumn.
The trees were proud of their majestic leaves
of gold and magenta which covered their branches
 and sprinkled the earth.
Small furry creatures occasionally could be seen
amidst the trees, leaves and earth.
The two men were aware of all this in the
 backgrounds of their minds.
They were also aware of the pleasantness
 of their peaceful companionship
 as they played cards, passed the bottle
 and made casual conversation about this and that.
It was a simple house in a simple town
 by the side of a long and windy road
 which was surrounded by woods.
A plane passed overhead
and was briefly a part of this scene,
 before moving on to more important places.



Juicy round autumn

 Juicy round autumn
 burnished red and golden
 mesmerizing quality of time today.
 Hunger forgotten when life is a garden
 sow and weep
 while you sleep
 a new day grows.
 Getting our time together
 Getting in touch with weather again
 And there's been so much to weather
 Again and again and again.
 Sunrays are playing
 Warming the walkways
 Flashing out rainbows
 in random puddles and streams.
 Clear skies and starlight
 Awaken the night hours
 Expanding the time to harvest our dreams.



Indian Summer

In a time of awakening;
In a season of wild abandon;
In a moment of sensation -
In a flash
In a long and luscious indian summer of my life
Glorious dreams were made.
Sound doctrines magnified.
Quick impulses of insight found light and sparkled
 long into the autumn night.
I will remember
 the chill of golden woods
 the fairytale rolling mountains
 the days upon days of cool clean crispness
like the sweet/tart fruits of harvest.
In a clearing
Along a riverbed
Furry forest sounds and scent of moisture
Early morning dawn awakening
to a season of wild abandon
 a golden moment of sensation
In a flash -- alive to an open season
 Alive to a new awakening
 Alive



Autumnal Vision

Wind, rain: a snuggle under the covers morning
Dreamtime --
"dreaming of the way things might have been"?
Someone asked: What short of revolution could remake
 the world to be
 more fair, peaceful, more encouraging of love?
My new mantra: "lighten up":
 Eyes upward, facing mysteries of stars and heavens
 Heart lightened, to more merry, merry be
 I lighten the load to my aching shoulders, and find
 worlds of light and joy easier to carry
 I look to ancient wisdoms to enlighten my soul

 And I laugh, lightly, brightly,
 let loose too tightly inheld breath of
fear/hate/judgment.
Breathing freely, I inhale
 the exhilarating scent of changing leaves



Autumn Is for Dying

 Spring is for being born;
 Autumn for dying.
 Spring is for being born
 (or maybe sometimes Winter --
 something has to take you through
 those long cold months of snow and ice).
 Spring is for being born;
 Autumn for dying
(when the leaves change colors
 and fall and blow
 into the frost and first fall snow).
 Spring is for being born;
 Autumn for dying.
 (Why do you weep for me, sister,
 long heartfelt sobs of dismay?
 Why do you weep as I drift off to sleep
 for many and many a day?
 Today I shall die so tonight I may fly
 -- with the leaves I'll be scattered away.)
 Spring is for being born;
 Autumn for dying.
 (But I only die today that I may be reborn
tomorrow, when the warm kiss of Spring
touches the earth,
 bringing promise of joyous rebirth
 and months of summer sun,
 when leaves turn green again.)
 Spring is for being born;
 Autumn for dying.





Libra

The scales of Justice
Yin and Yang
The interchange of love
A world in perfect balance
Twixt summer/winter extremes
The perfect beauty of sun shining
on rainbow puddles
reflecting the brilliant colors
 of changing leaves.



Give and Take


Taking it all into myself.
Thus has it always been so.
Taking it all and twisting and tweaking.
Making it all into a blessing.
I see visions. I hear angels.
Let me take you into myself.
Let me bless you.
Let me believe in you.
Let me see through your eyes,
walk on your legs,
imagine with your biography.
I can but reach to you. So poignantly.
What I do never matters.
What I say has no gravitas.
What I pray for
gets lost in the queue of prayers.
I am breathing
crisp air of autumn's evening.
I am walking.
Mist obscures my view.
Lost in mirage, in a Van Gogh painting,
face wrenching laughter, luminous tears.
A vision of weeping, knees bent and falling;
permission I grant me.
I am loving with open heart
a frightened child who once declared:
I can take it.



Yield


I chase a marvelous goat --
the young idea
frisky and rambling.
I fenced her in with words.
A mazing race though the whishing wind.
She laughed when I claimed to have caught her
and led me on
through newborn autumn fields.



Close to the Edge


Close to the edge, so close
And the fire's burning.
The music's playing old familiar memories.
It's a grey day in late autumn
In a year of fear and hopeful reawakening --
Is there hope of resurrection?
In these grim, grim times?
But so grim?
A time to newly discover
The strength within;
To again see life as a discovery
    -- can it be done?
On a day so grey, in a year so fraught with peril
    and misadventure?
One at a time: take things one at a time,
And they seem so small and easy.
Why hold expectations that lead to dismay,
Hiding from fantasy?
Breathe, meditate.
Build dream towers to climb to,
Not nightmares.
But it seems so safe and easy to hide
In the darkness
To never utter another "I"
To cease.
Why not?
Close to the edge, so close.
The fool looks over his shoulder.
The wise goat climbs with care.
The lonely may jump in despair.
How to be alone and strong?
Ask the high priest --
All is within/without you.
But to find that smile of understanding?
It is a search worth taking
Slow, easy, breathe.

Sep/21/2019, 9:36 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 
libramoon Profile
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Reply | Quote
Re: forever autumn


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Al-ESH-XfQc
 
Forever Autumn. The Moody Blues. (1978)
 
 
 
Early autumn firelight
reminiscent of witch hunts, ghosts of cavalry,
dire warnings and endless hide and strike
The game, the funhouse, turns deadly
Sanctuary calls, demanding sacrifice
The noble phoenix fed on frankenseed
can not rise
 
Skies descend, dark mirroring
Smell the woodsmoke, intoxicating, soft and sweet,
masks the taste of bitter bile, secret vomiting,
starving despite harvest's gay array of treats
Faded, nearly blind, falling in and out of
shamanic fever, primeval native callings beyond sight,
ripple of tribal beat at the periphery
ecstatic vision dark/light/agony and brilliant breaks
starbright constellations
 
 
 
In deep field dreams
rustic woodfire comfort
blesses autumn morn
 
 
 
 
 
Autumn Calls a Prologue to Fall
 
 
Settle into Sun setting, calling leaves, days diminishing.
Secret senses sing, startling mysteries, dense synchronicities.
Gathering hunters leap to frenzied victory, pray to
craved largesse,
darkening forest, deepening tales, shadow deities.
Ritual beauty, fierce death/wild rebirth.
 
Energy dervishes, drunk from fruits of Earth, swirl
into ecstasy; face becoming. Sun dies from Western skies.
Realign.
 
 
Libra
 
 
The scales of Justice
Yin and Yang
The interchange of love
A world in perfect balance
Twixt summer/winter extremes
The perfect beauty of sun shining
on rainbow puddles
reflecting the brilliant colors
of changing leaves.
 
 
 
 
Yield
 
 
I chase a marvelous goat --
the young idea
frisky and rambling.
I fenced her in with words.
A mazing race though the whishing wind.
She laughed when I claimed to have caught her
and led me on
through newborn autumn fields.
 
 
 
love like breeze through leaves,
song of future longing,
autumn in the wind
 
 
 
Diamonds and Rust
 
 
"Diamonds and Rust" like Joanie says
memories, I mean
lovers.
I saw you tonight with your San Francisco cut
and that old double-edged blade
went piercing through my heart
leaving me bleeding
memories
long through this autumn night
of no-sleep blues and golds
and rusty burnished reds
that cut like diamonds.
 
I call to you in fevered dreams
that leave me gasping,
haunting all through the dreary day.
Can't escape that sudden urgency.
Just like days gone by. You don't answer.
You don't hear me through all that mass
-- your own driving imperative.
We meet so seldom
separation so long.
We are like strangers.
Yet times we have touched, one to one,
to perfection,
have been one strength and impulse
have known such intimacy . . .
I call to you now,
Hearing your voice in every song of romance.
 
 
 
A Vignette
 
 
It was a simple house in a simple town.
The road was long and winding.
Two men sat on the road.
They were playing cards.
One man had a bottle which was occasionally passed.
They were not playing for any stakes,
But as an excuse for companionship.
It was a simple house in a simple town.
Old gnarled, stately tall trees formed a woods
that lined the roadway.
It was noon, but the day was overcast;
not dark, but pleasantly muted.
It was autumn.
The trees were proud of their majestic leaves
of gold and magenta which covered their branches
and sprinkled the earth.
Small furry creatures occasionally could be seen
amidst the trees, leaves and earth.
The two men were aware of all this in the
backgrounds of their minds.
They were also aware of the pleasantness
of their peaceful companionship
as they played cards, passed the bottle
and made casual conversation about this and that.
It was a simple house in a simple town
by the side of a long and windy road
which was surrounded by woods.
A plane passed overhead
and was briefly a part of this scene,
before moving on to more important places.
 
 
 
Juicy round autumn
 
 
Juicy round autumn
burnished red and golden
mesmerizing quality of time today.
Hunger forgotten when life is a garden
sow and weep
while you sleep
a new day grows.
Getting our time together
Getting in touch with weather again
And there's been so much to weather
Again and again and again.
Sunrays are playing
Warming the walkways
Flashing out rainbows
in random puddles and streams.
Clear skies and starlight
Awaken the night hours
Expanding the time to harvest our dreams.
 
 
 
Indian Summer
 
 
In a time of awakening;
In a season of wild abandon;
In a moment of sensation -
In a flash
In a long and luscious indian summer of my life
Glorious dreams were made.
Sound doctrines magnified.
Quick impulses of insight found light and sparkled
long into the autumn night.
I will remember
the chill of golden woods
the fairytale rolling mountains
the days upon days of cool clean crispness
like the sweet/tart fruits of harvest.
In a clearing
Along a riverbed
Furry forest sounds and scent of moisture
Early morning dawn awakening
to a season of wild abandon
a golden moment of sensation
In a flash -- alive to an open season
Alive to a new awakening
Alive
 
 
 
Autumnal Vision
 
 
Wind, rain: a snuggle under the covers morning
Dreamtime --
"dreaming of the way things might have been"?
Someone asked: What short of revolution could remake
the world to be
more fair, peaceful, more encouraging of love?
My new mantra: "lighten up":
Eyes upward, facing mysteries of stars and heavens
Heart lightened, to more merry, merry be
I lighten the load to my aching shoulders, and find
worlds of light and joy easier to carry
I look to ancient wisdoms to enlighten my soul
 
And I laugh, lightly, brightly,
let loose too tightly inheld breath of
fear/hate/judgment.
Breathing freely, I inhale
the exhilarating scent of changing leaves
 
 
 
Autumn Is for Dying
 
 
Spring is for being born;
Autumn for dying.
Spring is for being born
(or maybe sometimes Winter --
something has to take you through
those long cold months of snow and ice).
Spring is for being born;
Autumn for dying
(when the leaves change colors
and fall and blow
into the frost and first fall snow).
Spring is for being born;
Autumn for dying.
(Why do you weep for me, sister,
long heartfelt sobs of dismay?
Why do you weep as I drift off to sleep
for many and many a day?
Today I shall die so tonight I may fly
-- with the leaves I'll be scattered away.)
Spring is for being born;
Autumn for dying.
(But I only die today that I may be reborn
tomorrow, when the warm kiss of Spring
touches the earth,
bringing promise of joyous rebirth
and months of summer sun,
when leaves turn green again.)
Spring is for being born;
Autumn for dying.
 
 
 
Close to the Edge
 
 
Close to the edge, so close
And the fire's burning.
The music's playing old familiar memories.
It's a grey day in late autumn
In a year of fear and hopeful reawakening --
Is there hope of resurrection?
In these grim, grim times?
But so grim?
A time to newly discover
The strength within;
To again see life as a discovery
    -- can it be done?
On a day so grey, in a year so fraught with peril
    and misadventure?
One at a time: take things one at a time,
And they seem so small and easy.
Why hold expectations that lead to dismay,
Hiding from fantasy?
Breathe, meditate.
Build dream towers to climb to,
Not nightmares.
But it seems so safe and easy to hide
In the darkness
To never utter another "I"
To cease.
Why not?
Close to the edge, so close.
The fool looks over his shoulder.
The wise goat climbs with care.
The lonely may jump in despair.
How to be alone and strong?
Ask the high priest --
All is within/without you.
But to find that smile of understanding?
It is a search worth taking
Slow, easy, breathe.
 
 
 
Look!
Through autumn branches
Hunter Moon
 
 
 
October
 
 
Entering into a joy of its own,
love long subdued, yet never
denied . . .
Deeply buried, muffled calls from
memory's tomb.
Embedded in layers, perennial autumn leaves.
Empty years
temporarily deluged by tears
tumbling like coins
through torn clothing.
Hard earned but never spent;
I weep for you.
 
Entering into a joy of its own,
elation of interchange incomplete.
Crepuscular darkness of Autumn,
solemn, ancient, descending,
anticipates consummation.
 
 
 
Sep/22/2019, 7:53 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 


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