She talks to me in a sweet mountain

breeze in the looming nocturne of a

tinctured sky, the leafspeak and whispers

that sound like the color of your eyes

in the soft swell of your clavicle

the clavichord plunge of your lips –

I am lost in the language of your

curves found in frequency and forum

All of you emanating in the hymn and

harmony of your form, an azurestill of wonder

where sound lays seamless across time

time that cannot speak nor ply my heart

against these fulminations, the incantations

of your song, the native tongue of your

figure in fuchsia pressing softly, ever so

softly on my soul as evening serves us life

nectarean and unremitting

____________________________

© Thespian Drummer / Nocturne

.lilypad path.

Moon water catches Breath of Life, the Unending songs of This lonely planet

Grabs grief like a Lost child finding Solace and grace In starlight of heaven

Here, I float within This still and quiet vision As if hovering above lost Tales of a Cambrian sea

Like visionaries and their Ways of water, their prophets Exceed the common good For all of us and I

Become captivated reflection The tide acknowledging my heart Along the shores of every step I’ve taken towards revelation

© K. James Ribble

I sing now in a key

           of awe and lament

           this moment singing

Songs of memory released,

unencumbered by time

           parsing through me as I

love in the face of loss,

in twilight never known

piqued from the fount of a

           simple look you dreamt my way

dreams of past lives

they come in absolutions

and the reckoning of wonder

where I speak now in a language

I cannot articulate

where we exist in an absence of time

of quiet, peace and an overwhelming

sense of gratitude edged in

the twilight of miracle

Like seeing reflections of timelessness

seep through the sky’s canvas of blue

– a lake’s alpine mirror –

revealing I am flayed among 

the stars and their kin

_________________

© K.James Ribble

Calling Mojo5050

Radiance

I walk with her In the acreage of neglected dreams she escorts me to A realm that sees the angels sing of time Gathered in a featherless touch of Agony where even Michael weeps

archangel tears of anguish

Such is the nature of her beauty Like a satin quill of starless nights in A Giverny of lessons I try to scribe, the whole of My hope and sacrifice enstates all, all to her other-wise –

and even then, just past the ethos Of this forest song I sing I am drawn to Her eyes of Awe

a frightful and lovely truth That I am within the pleas Of her only cost, the cost of being human Vulnerable enough To love as the angels sing.

© K. James Ribble

On the shore of my neighbor's pond

From the selvages of innocence, knowledge needing, she draws           to the edge of the sun           incised & contoured on the periphery of time bleached by the songs of           his longing, corbelled on           a pretense of dusk, the light looming as she appears now in a forming like frost patterns in glass           a geometry of fire           fractals of diamond, their stria aligned & enflamed the way a shore washes its stones,           a lullaby of calm [emerges]           sounding wave upon wave from the Sipapus of life - as he reveals love’s origins           in a plein of topiary forms           glistening in crowns of shadow where the gloss of his understanding yearns for her evening heart

______________________________

© K. James Ribble / Pretense of Dusk

The Last Of Autumn

is memory like light? the stars we see might have burned out consumed black into void thousands of years ago the light that reaches us, Anne, is memory, you’re right - something that once was and might be and are all of us like that?

While Night Abates

You find it hard to believe

Your spirit is beautiful

Of Hibiscus and spearmint

The headwinds of an

effortless ply of time, a lovely

soul who washes over me

Like rain in August like the

Horizon in Silhouette of

a Romanesque dawn

Like the fingers of spring

in an ambush of nightfall

Calloused in the soft arc

Of its touch, on an awakening

Both Immediate and clear in

mornings canvassed by the

iris mauve of this desert,

Like a shoreline Motioning me

to a whit of flight

A carrier of sunlight in

the soft loss of time —

© K. James Ribble

sunset visions

©️-Aubrie-2023

Love is Listening

My place on this Earth a Foliage day in Autumn carries A leaving of departure – the errant Defenestration of owing my Equinox.

To this unease I am the mismatch Of a consoling wind, a cenotaph Of skyloss to a sinking star as if My birthright to a lover’s misgiving

Paints a fainted river asleep within me. In this forest silence (an instant) now My heart lays down beside you oblique to A Canopy of Loss imposed by disbelief so

I re-lie on stones of our contentious gait The over-stride of walking towards us, it Takes me breathless, signifies sunrise To my heart realized by your azure smile.

© K. James Ribble