Digital Ink - drink up
Saturday, June 28, 2003

Ode To Poets

Deep within the black inkwell
a tide of words begins to swell
to flow so freely from the pen
heartfelt words of mortal men.

The key to all our mystery
told on parchment tapestry
words that we can feel inside
come rushing forth on inky tide.

Autumn's Tears

While I slept the artist mixed
Autumn hues to touch the earth
Simple beauty, held, transfixed
Fall's colors bright rebirth.
A single stroke, a scarlet blaze
gold, copper, crimson leaves
Heaping piles mark the days
canvas born of painted trees.
Autumn's glory soon shall fade
passing with the falling leaf
weeping leaves will fill the glade
like painter's tears, Autumn's grief.


Silent swing
swaying gently in the breeze.
A pendulum
held by shaded memories.
A memory
reaching for the open sky.
Graceful arc
as the ground goes rushing by.
How simple
to that spot beneath the trees.
Eyes closed
how to soar into the breeze.

push/click arrows to scroll.

Passion sweet
eternal sleep,
and in my darkened


Spiritus durissima coquit.
Quod in te est, prome.


Poetry is a sword of lightning,
ever unsheathed,
which consumes the scabbard that would contain it.

Percy Bysshe Shelley
maystar designs | Digital Ink | Digital Ink