I'd hoped that it might seem as one

by Steve King

©2018  All rights reserved

I’d hoped that it might seem as one,

that each new treasure of intent

would gather inward every charm,

alone to each new moment then,

without beginnings, without end.

The issue of unsettling dreams

would scuttle back beneath the lees,

the tolling of uncertainty

displaced by melodies begun.

Desires one never knew to spend

might seize such moments to contend.

Yet every doubt shall resurrect

to seed new dreams and break amends,

undoing all prospective notes,

to quell new dawns with clouded suns.

And all invention soon erased

by tides of tears that need not wait

for virgin moons to call them out,

far wishes glinting there, dark stars.

            The resting place of all appeal

            is quiet soon and battened fast,

each unrecounted mood abates

to where silence must congregate,

the words gone still to mend a peace,

and linger always out of reach.

And all that was important then

seems sunk to nothingness

again.


A new poem for the D'Verse Open Link Night
https://dversepoets.com/

I would be ready

I would be ready, should it come tonight.

I wait upon all ends, as do we each,

have swept my mind of all moveable fears,

and tried to pierce a veil of fair unknowns.

I am impatient with the magic now,

have slipped the tether of old ritual

and left to other arms the shield of faith,

to feel at last the depth in every night

and sense the murmur that a new felt wind

inflects upon old spirits who will hear.

I watch while every dusk enfolds the world

within an unknown realm, myself half-seen

and half-seeing, now here, now there, now gone,

alike some shallow isle whose trace appears

but briefly in the movement of great tides.

My visions cannot capture all I see,

nor words translate the things I come to know.

And while old mysteries will not abate,

I wait upon no supernality.

For only I attend upon these times,

alone to every instant, as must be;

and every hard-felt limit that is found

records at least an impulse to break free,

to try this darkness, sometimes kindle light,

’til rest shall fall, like mist upon the night.


A new poem for Imaginary Gardens
http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/

We tarried that first night

©2018 Steve King

All rights reserved

We tarried that first night upon the sands

and glimpsed of glinting waters that upheld

the sky and the unnumbered stars.

Stars so many I was blind to all.

Strange things I tried to say,

then silence so that none might come amiss.

There surely would be time for words

when dreams had come to pass,

just not quite then.

Never time for dreams;

nor for uncanny orisons,

which none inclined to hear.

And never time to understand

those spirits once so near to us,

that sang from everywhere.

Confusions reigned aplenty,

seeming without cause or cure

to ease my wonder at the way

we found our way from star-lit shores

and got ourselves to here.

I will not criticize

© 2018 Steve King

All rights reserved

I will not criticize for your half-truths.

Of our mean differences, say what you will

so it brings peace.  I shall not ask beyond

the looming limits of my disbelief.

The times have left us still, with only hope

to take the seat of dreams that would repair.

Subsume to silence, and I’ll join you there.