YOU AS ROLLING WAVE

On this calm, distant shore I wait for you,

watch your raw energy escape the storm,

radiate to calmer water, meld your

blue wave train, its columning swell conform

to seabed, to curling wind and sunlight.

I wonder how you balance it all: lift

and fall, your flexing form now in clear sight,

then gone, then orbiting once more (a gift,

surely) only to refract with such grace

I react with a sudden cry. I laugh,

celebrate your luscious contour. All space

seems filled with your spirit’s lithograph.

I shudder, stagger forth, kneel, then recline,

feel your warm current enclose my coastline.

Roger Armbrust

June 29, 2016

CONSUME

I ingest you like

honey. You devour me like

fire igniting flesh.

UNLESS THIS MIRACLE HAVE MIGHT

Most excruciatingly beautiful

you. Most hesitatingly aloof you.

Where are your words these days, those phrases full

of natural imagery? Give us clues

to avenues where you and your Muse flow

in every revery, meditation.

Share sharp insight only poets allow –

deep cutting blade of psyche’s truth. You shun

my eyes. That’s all right, as long as honest

words – tight as tourniquets – always return

to your tongue and page. Rhythms you invest

can impress each mind and heart – blaze and burn

like a brand. Like your blue eyes still consume

space and air when you gaze across the room.

Roger Armbrust

June 23, 2016

GRIEF NEVER LEAVES

Grief never leaves. It only steps aside,

allows love and laughter again to dance.

Watches from the corner our graceful glide,

our stumbling, willingness to take a chance

once more. Memory, it seems, requires grief

to remain yet keep its distance; appear

late at night when we’re alone, perhaps brief,

perhaps droning on, even bringing fear.

The questions: Do we let grief control our

conversation? Allow dark to rule us?

Or do we choose to pray, kneel to power

filling all with natural light? Discuss

the future, accept the past, respect now?

It’s easier said than done. Yes. I know.

Roger Armbrust

June 15, 2016

I WANT TO DIE LIVING

I want to die living. I want my heart

to explode while dancing, not just hiding

in damp caves from dark beasts. I want to start

now as the sun rises, mind abiding

in prayer, eyes celebrating each found soul

gliding past – fertile pollen for all that’s

civilized. Let me inspire, not console,

my psyche’s timid wandering, combat

deep fear by laughing at its horrid glare,

calling it outside to join our long run,

forsake its eternal “no”. Who knows where

all new trails lead? Love knows we’ve just begun

our hope’s faithful search for new dimensions.

We leap in by choice – our great decision.

Roger Armbrust

June 8, 2016