Author's note: Please skip around to view poetry of different styles and techniques.
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Chapter 1: Beginnings
to my son
Hold you ever near me
through a passing night
of time and ending
scene of cradle
pleasure lent between
this romp of sky
and dusty floor.
Kneel, offer hands
awash to mending
all went wrong
within our whitewash
walls set of texture
sunlight and the lime
of dying planet.
For you
my artist
posing head
within His palm
shaming light
upon the
seemingly
eternal
master only
dazzling pastels
for landscapes
brushed of
memories.
a father's love letter
Dearest daughter:
Would I ever lose you
to the whirlwinds of romance
and the hours once shared
found the younger man
my heart will hide
as evening wren
in the memory
of your child.
Can a father’s love
unweave the nest
of instinct?
.....rescind
the Southern journey?
in your grand scheme
will you know
I still see girl
forever in our field?
where once
never minding
of the father
who would bring her down
over again
from ever persuading fields
to softly settled linens
where I’d practice my happiness
for the day you’d wake to find
the sequel to our love
Forever yours
once
There was once in playing fields
all the wavering carefree ways
of wisdom.
And childern brazen,
weary in nightfall
returning always longways home
to afterglows of kitchen
and visions of Mother
tending favorite violets
flowering
all around
you.
Till evening’s gentle wheezes
ending on a sigh inside
such room you dreampt
a thousand high adventures
and staring roles
cast you,
Slept on.
From a wayside
gathering sweetpeas oneday
wonder and awake
the ever-after species:
Yearning, fading,
returning, finding
Mothers plastic violets
still silly towards the stars.
bridging time
cycle of moonshine
our windows bleed
through blue branches
no fear now
my young one
close your eyes
our time for quiet
reserved
their time to sing
resurged
seemingly eternal nocturnal symphony
resonate
while young
in slumber
reap the dawning
of another
sun-
shine
day
while elders
in leisure
sew the closing
of another
child-
less
night
imagined time
downy-drowned, the captive child
dances amber eyes to cosmic chatters,
tune-filled moon,
and pitch of distant
warbling sun
through unkempt corner of curtain
glaring aura wrinkles
the Maker’s mending heads
with planetary vision:
that worlds converge
with increasing purpose
disavowing
tossed beginnings
as we his inklings of time
and reason
can only oneday cease
to imagine
infant's chant
induced
low tide
moments after midnight
spilled me to your fertile shore
so soothed in others' features
huddle rose of soiled linen
our first ordeal
serenely
over
water
always
christens harbored worlds
rose and fell to ivoried edges
surging seedlings through a fissure
fractured of affectioned rhythms
leaving love a form
uniquely
yours
never
leave me
untended in the manger
till moments move as years
and sudden hunger rouses flesh
beyond the wells of milky Eden
to silent graceless lands
falsely
fed
Author's note: The format of this poem reflects the pattern of contractions I saw in the fetal monitor
just prior to the birth of my first child.
Chapter 2: Middles
remembered friend
knowing that smile
rapture of wide brown eyes
forever affectioned
me to you
scented summer play
ours were baltic blue
and whitewashed days
where choppy watered pools
mingled waves of bobbing faces
till losing moments sight
of chatty anxious mothers
sipping sweet mint tea
feeling for popcorn
in terra cotta bowls
in youth
our minds always
racing faster than our hearts
so reeling
sought pieces for a whole
of wheeled racing cart
finding board
formed body
jolly lady
lent plastic seat
another
donned dented buckets
of congealed paint
and searching the whole
of known world
I found the wheels and rods
from strapless summer lounge
to propel you on
my senses still feel
radiant warmth
of lazy leafed and shaded
summer driveways
where you and I
labored to our finished image
of gleaming machine
forged of a happy peopled world
over swigs of Kool-Aid
and salty sunflower seeds
so soon
summer errands
sent me off to corner store
to fondle melons
and fill the empty bellys
of gumball machines
with tarnished pennys
never once knowing
you would ride on
through life
without me
by your side
dear one
in age
our hearts always
racing faster than our minds
grandfather
as the iris in your yard
so too I remember
emerging from your loving arms
to sprouting green and native pastures
too new to know
you'd set me straight
dying soon
left me lone
to bloom
the last laugh
of all the gifts of childhood
I remember you most
Stevie
your gentle style
of illuminating minds
amidst the malice of adolescence
enriched me more
than you’d ever live to learn
your insightful eyes
sensed the tense-filled times
between lamenting lessons
meant for those requiring
facts and figures
beyond a simple passion
for life
and tickled us with bashful
animate anecdotes inspired
of the easy carefree life
you never planned
yet always ventured
to play
the favorite comic actor
in every starring role
and sideshow
our ridiculous world
could offer
and then the moment
the two of us
aside of stage
I’d see you falter
and lose the crucial timing
that jokes require
and learned instead
your pain and worry
resembled ours
merely transfigured
through laughter
Stevie
so fittingly
you left life
on a high note
one final searing smile
to a laboring world
as you slipped
down uncharted slopes
of Switzerland
relinquishing your role
as entertainer
to glide within
hidden crevasse
as final curtain
somewhat anticipated
yet never seriously expected
your lost body lovingly preserved
your flirting mind still mingling amongst the many
your former burden forever in my care
friends and lovers
finding open avenues to stride
arms entangled
dizzying
heights
words delight colliding eyes
till dawn subdues
impassioned
nights
riding carousels of gendered affection
we will remain
as always
bridled
lovers
and best
of friends
the Rain-Maker
remember when
our heavy afternoon broke free
and
sketched
the slanting thoughts
of raindrop’s
shiny style
the world-
under
drawing us children
ever nearer
essential
memories
unaccustomed yet
to salty tendings
of tomorrow’s
tear-
drops?
I will remember, always.
Till oneday
ceasing
I’ll emerge
from ash
the Rain-
maker .
.
.
.
seeding clouds
changing child’s
tired dust
to clinging
mud
and memories.
Cheryl Ann
My dear, lie down tonight
and never know that life's a whore
who charged for times of love and laughter
now leaves you naked in discord
Smile, I am here
having found you
drowning in currents of tears
and upward years
pull you now towards me
Let us lie together
and feel the passion once more
that brought our bright bloods surging
renewed with life and love
For ours is a wave sung isle
with shifting sands of disrepair
and Love's come down from her star-lit sky
to give us blessings
and uncharted lands
my hunting lesson
I was to see you once again
all sprawled out amidst the maim
of fallen Elders, bending reeds,
and beercans.
Reclining as some Lord in concession
of surrounding flocks.
Toying his favorite pipe.
Till lambs in your meadow suddenly changed
to fleets
of wild
bleating
geese
freer
till your sight
and steeply rise
of oily pistol
lewdly blew
and shouted through
the wince of winking wings and wonder,
spilling devil's red desire
as clotting flecks
on vacant
upturned
pastel
faces.
That deeper night
I drew in bolder colors. Filling pages.
Making light and dark
of what you taught me.
So as to remember you by and bye.
games and players
unfittingly
a famous maker
of childern’s games
manufactures plastic
playing pieces
in jumbled urban slum
better known for chances
persons take
when venturing out
where are you,
childern of the city?
playing board games?
rolling dice
for a chance
to ease tired bones?
spinning wheels
for a second
lease on life?
dealing cards
for the hand
that will soothe your head?
in your frozen moment
shall I roll for you?
I who never fathomed,
in my happy family
fun-filled nights
around the table,
the last move
you may have made
was in sheer
self-defense
for the chance
at yet
another
ghetto
game-
filled
day
come home
come home
feel reasons for wooden
assemblies
else time will emerge
the instinctual creature
within you
forewarned
of impending storms
you'll part for cover
to find only
immensely open fields
greened with appareling rain
incensed of decaying glade
jeweled to a rousing sun
but washing you away
and away
you'll remain
and the cycle unfurls
another cloud
laden of rain
and human tears
Chapter 3: Endings
hands and knees
I wander a world transparent now
the night I felt your hand unwind
from mine
they wheeled the capsuled body out
to yet another hiding place
still entranced
my heart untimely burst
a thousand ruby marbles
upon the marbled floor
collecting those I could
confused
left most as lost
forever
within the folds
of your surrendered robe
I still search
on hands and knees
where do I turn to?
what door will deliver
the world I grew with you?
when will I emerge my very own?
someday?...or oneday?
I never wanted perfected miracles
sacred visions of Virgin Mary
tears from wooden Angels
blood at plastered Christ's side
especially never
sudden rustled breezes
to whisper my name
in your fading intonations
I only now know
I only ever wanted
the chosen link
of mere human hand
clasped tight with mine
through perils of time
the imperfect, common love
of mother and child
Goodbye From Tory K.
Mine was a wide Ohio sky
where sun stooped, kissed the fields bright
so frolicked, apron strings untied
spilled the colors of my life
running all the whiles
I am tired
take me now
I'm yours
night
leaving play to dark
with scattered stars
planets hum
child's now
ours
Pass them on softly seamless night
for day-worn childern gather light
once tired, ride a lamb-white grave
to sulk in moon-sown pasture's haze
old folks gone home
sensing kisses
and simple hugs
had ceased to come
from those she loved
so settled head
in final bow
to busy world
leaving behind
only time
and softened shell
happy endings re-told
happy ever afters
with gleaming pictures
in storybook covers
often discolor in emerging life
turn to streetside and explore
the many endings we the scriptors
typically implore
in the caricature of others
the merry dizzy man
clutching bottled youth
crisscrosses paths of persons
unamused to
fanciful dancing
through gutters
the red-caped girl
clasping basket once active
strolls treeless streets
forever searching
hills of filth and litter
for their chosen resting place
the many-minded Jack
seeking fortune in open
glowing neon streets
slays envisioned giants
with Saturday night specials
for the fixings of tomorrow
so be warned young one
the many ardent endings
tucked neat in gilded pages
comfort wishers for the moment
yet oneday
may unknowingly be
re-told
making sense
through the arc of my swing
in the sixties
I feared most
the romping of foreign troops
through suburban
strongholds
our fathers labored hard
and died for
the nightly news
spewed chaotic views
of indigent peoples
crudely carving boys
I vaguely knew
from my own
home town
of Middle America
once conquered
what changes would they bring?
what language would I learn?
what response should I take
to the losing of my ways?
through the glide of my bike
I eventually strived
to understand
our soil was not at stake
but merely ideals
for a uniform world
in which all would be
understood
from our point
of view
through the commute of my car
I haven’t traveled far
after all
from those early queries
my non-combated life
no less severely altered
through timeless wounds
it took only
the spilling of one boy
in foreign jungle
the absolute fear
his mind acquired
reduced
to essence of
animal instinct
last thoughts of
reaching home
before dying
why couldn’t I save him?
who should have protected him?
who gave him final pat
on back
before departing?
...then let him go
in my simple wisdom
I would have grabbed him
as he turned away
towards war
and together
ran to lands abiding life
as the ultimate price
you have to pay
for living
day after day
untamed world
The fields burned
unsteadily
rimming night
in purest fantasy.
Windily bleeding
wheatstalks.
Partaking
ancient ritual.
Reclaiming
tired soil.
Scattering last
the seething
creatures
replenishing
unkempt hills.
I was the Maker.
Planting
the whole
of noon and night,
and a heated
season
of tending.
Orderly tendrils
brimming
to boisterous field.
Golden, earthly tickles
of sun.The harvest shone
within us.
And without us.
Now
the family farm
rough-hewn
of generations
braced to
bantam embers
flung at pleasure.
Neighbors
came to battle
chuckling flames.
Forces leapt
at chances
to be reckoned.
Old man
blinded
fell. Woman
clasped for hand
of child. Ashen
faces winced
amidst the brawl
of chaos.
While
behind the barn
confounding
vulgar scene
my body bent
for pardon
to a world
I’d failed
to tame.
life reconciled
unto your own
from ancient inlaid chambers grown
drift on unteathered now
for every earthly turning
boldly beacons life from heaven
senses drenched
so swell the cells
in forged profusion
cherish now
your human form
never unlearn
tides that spilled yourself
to yearning earth
so trusted you
in pristine nursery
where tucked inside
assembled cells
the remnants torn
of all past life
lie reconciled
as brothers
If brothers were as kind in life, Michael,
you know I would have found you
halfway towards home,
long before our mother
would have kissed the creases
of your forehead.
If forgiving was as natural, Michael,
you know I would have held you
halfway towards forever,
long before any world
would have summoned lovers
from her waters.
If Angel was my essence, Michael,
you know I would have met you
halfway towards heaven,
long before any star
would have seized your sparkle
as her own.
In these,
the stillest hours,
I will have felt you, brother,
till my steadily fading heart
empties of our blood.
little kitten, my way again
Little kitten
I hear you
first thing, some thirty years the future of the person
now slipping out of conscience. Why do you come my way again,
unblemished,
as the nighttime ride of a furious adolescent never met you
headlong to allow your memory only. Where once, you slept
so contently in the shelter,
the euthanasia
shadowing your every morning.
In a merciful mood,
I played at savior. But I’m no good as god-like,
giving you no living equivalent to a fallen star.
Or even close to a patch of dirt you could flourish.
And your delicate body, balanced between two worlds
Of joy and joyous, spirit of a butterfly ,halo of a tail,
Still frees my every emotion,
then disappears.
undoing
never in nursery
your once in a past was barely mine.
of longing I’ll die, endure,
as my undoing.
till driving rains untill the soil
once our fertile fields.
and saviours can leap the wind
as seedlings will.
where can it end?
unteathered angel,
in worlds conceiving
endlessly over. So again
the embryo sails on
to a new haven,
restless
as our rosy shores.
ever again
im like that cat
who finds ways home
nine times
before dyin
release my precious
closed eye kitten
freer than humans
would have you
nearer to fields
purer than sleep
warmed of wisdom
mastered in tails
can night pretend
just once
to love us
ever again as felines?
passings
Edsel
save us from extreme
wear and tear. the deadpan hours
herald another passage
smudged in the blue cold plume
of an idling motor coach. a turnkey
plea powered out of passion. the road of life
detoured.
expose
our kissed fume. excuse,
and send us shank-end of the fellow.
re-layer of shale whatever remains.
the rubber that held a generation,
recycled. the chain-drive hole of the home,
returned.
Childern of the Marble
Visit to the Wall, Washington, D.C.
Your days were many
of the lovely thoughts of children
grown around you suddenly here
Mending in their touch
your simmer of desire
spent to drift a darkest marble
Tell me
One last time,
My only given brother,
The reason why you could not stay
And hid in what seemed paradise
Reaping all your softest features
Withdrawing us the bone.
And where we once lay in our home
I’ll rise a thousand times
To hear the children of the marble
Screaming to return
Where rather than a monument
We’ll forge for them instead
The promise of a lifetime
As well tended and preserved.
daily dusting
Daily, we continue to endeavor the ruin
of ourselves. Brought into this world
an offering of renewal. Complexity of
flexing skin and mineral bone.
When did my
heart turn round and beat inwardly? Seeping
reason in endless circles. Soaking limbs in fluid
constrained of single tissue.
Times I suffered. Medicines
conjured from depths of imminent minds
would never recover the troubled heart.
Only conceal, linger
the skipping of beat, the continual quiver
of undeveloping body.
Unannounced, one night
narrowing vessels went immeasurable;
sent the body bereft of sensation. Departed,
partaken of the torch. Lost to dust
were all connection and atonement.
Merely being was the more difficult.
Consider,
the rescinding of your touch
was but the offering to Another.
And I’ve ceased to consider the other.
All poems above Copyright © 1997, 1998 Tod Duvall
