SLEEPING TOGETHER

Drifting into dreams,

our cured bodies pressing close,

we feel night bless us.

LAUGHING TOGETHER

Having come as one,

we embrace soft as bound clouds,

each whisper a joy.

COMING TOGETHER

Inside you tonight

I am you and you are me.

Our cosmos explodes.

“LEGÉNDE”

Wieniawski, seeing how Isabella’s

parents oppose their engagement, decides

to write “Legénde”. Returns to their home. Tells

how he composed this for her. His bow glides

over violin strings in soft, simple

melody, his brother Józeph beside

him at piano. Strings’ intense double

stops startle their small audience, with slides

enhancing sensual mood. Crescendo

builds to passionate climax. Lovemaking

ends on high G. Silent interlude flows

through the room. Outside, sunlight’s forsaking

earth, bringing brilliant blue. By candlelight,

parents bless the ring. Laughter fills the night.

Roger Armbrust

March 10, 2015

KEEP SOFT INSIDE

Keep soft inside your ever-sacred you.

Consider your 100 trillion cells,

each its own identity, each small room’s

shrine of nucleus and DNA. Tell

yourself bedtime stories of each cell’s life

as each of your lives, how each universe

connects the universe of you. Decides

what music moves you, which great poet’s verse

melds you to its rhythms, its imagery.

Guides you to intimate friends, and perhaps

a mate. Leads each sense to long for the sea.

Cautions you to avoid fear’s hidden traps.

Feel your tongue tip’s touch as you whisper “love”,

fitting the palate like finger in glove.

Roger Armbrust

March 8, 2015

STIR CRAZY

Been inside too long and away too long,

like held breath housing ancient resentment

or convict in solitary, love song

(he once sang her) sealed in sweaty cement

of dark stained cell walls. It’s what snow can do

to one’s psyche, you know: endless pure white

conniving with sun and shadow to screw

up vision and logic, turn care to spite,

like a seeing-eye Shepherd attacking

its master, or invisible leopard

slashing its shocking claws. Time’s contracting

memory: a punch-drunk fighter who sparred

with a brutal champ. It staggers through streets

lost, bruised, not even knowing it retreats.

Roger Armbrust

March 7, 2015

BITTERSWEET

Fear causes masses

to live lives like molasses,

oozing, more or less…