Wind - Chimes
Wind-chimes
clamor in the night.
Breezes rush
through unseen leaves.
Darkness revels in deeper sight.
Call me from
this empty room
and give the wind
my breath of
desire.
Set my sluggish soul aflame.
I’ll rise like sparks
and fill the night
with your
consuming
fire.
poem by Steven Federle
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One Simple Motion
The house is dark again.
Music drifts,
softly settles
like dust
on my face.
Now is the time
when veils decline-
when I can see
the faint motion
of breath;
my chest rising and
falling, life expelled
and pulled sharply back:
living and dying
in one, simple
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poem by Steven Federle
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Origami Master
My soul's a sheet
of flat paper,
unfolded and featureless
until your hands press
and pinch, crease
my stubborn fears
to your desire.
You know what fills
my nascent core
and never give me up
but with your strength
to fine edge crease
and make of me at last
angel's wings.
poem by Steven Federle
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Abaude: Morning Rain
Living trees, grass rising
from dark cool soil
Roses, like blood from a wound
rise above a common weed.
Its fugitive life persists
evading my brutal hands.
November rains
provoke darker green
Dim clouds pour
solemn waterfalls
Holy tears renew
the life of our dark world.
poem by Steven Federle
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Vesper
The western sun glows tangerine;
noon’s blue edge
not wanting to leave
vaults high over the bright valley sky.
With wide sweep of level cloud,
bands of passion, blushing impasto
strokes of burning orange
contend with fading light
to send spent day down
into indigo night.
poem by Steven Federle
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Invocation
O fill me
with your breath.
My soul
will dance
like leaves
glad in your breeze.
In green morning
will I arise
to sing your gladsome song.
O call me
and I will
rush to your side!
Deep in your holy wood,
will we walk -
you leading the way
and I behind
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poem by Steven Federle
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Bridge at Rio Vista
The bridge stands low
over the swollen
Sacramento,
black water,
rushing to
darker seas,
hypo-thermal,
sucking breath
from the fallen,
the overboard,
the suicide.
Its sturdy stanchions,
hold fast,
give refuge
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poem by Steven Federle
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The Bridge at Rio Vista
The bridge stands low
over the swollen
Sacramento,
black water,
rushing to
darker seas,
hypo-thermal,
sucking breath
from the fallen,
the overboard,
the suicide.
Its sturdy stanchions,
hold fast,
give refuge
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poem by Steven Federle
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Disasters of War
Iron soldiers,
astride their power,
grip swords
stand poised
wait for the order
to stain red
the innocent earth
as women,
naked bellies swollen,
watch flashing steel
steal away their children,
those
who play
at their bare feet
and those
who yet swim
in warmer pools.
poem by Steven Federle
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Vespers (you are near)
You are near
though I cannot see
your face.
Your voice I hear.
Your gentle breath
moves to quiet passion
the bare limbs
of your beloved trees.
I hear you say
that you love me.
Your darkness
I embrace;
for me you wait
in the rising night
with endless gift
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poem by Steven Federle
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