A melancholy in mauves and grays

A melancholy in mauves and grays draped the realm
In shades monochrome and nondescript
On a landscape that failed to shed its lassitude moribund
And an appetite for life the loss
Twas a day of no conceit nor aspiration
A day of neither plan
Nor machination machiavellian customary
It was an ordinary day among days ordinary
An unremarkable twenty four hour span
Yet it was this very quality
That rendered it the very best of days
For all humanity in its entirety
Was free to make of it what it willed
No rain fell, the spirit to dampen
No wind blew, the pace to forcibly quicken
No heat teemed, the feeble to weaken
No glacial chill benumbed, the moral fibre to shrinken
Nought this unassuming realm today did distract
Thus it was the most superlative of days
A most splendid day indeed
For on such a day as this
Bland like a bare canvas
An empty music score
A poet’s page blank page
The panoply of life entire itself could
In all its fullest glory displayed be
Upon this most promising of days
The world and all therein to enchant and to fulfil
d.a.simpson

“Jagged mountains” recent reflections of mine.

Jagged mountains stretch and strive
The taut canvas perchance to probe and pierce
Their complaints and demands to pressingly present
To the celestial throne agleam in that blinding light renowned
That no creature can survive
Thus the bold peaks fearless do approach
The ethereal kingdom in hues of palest gold
Aglint in the brilliant light like a legion of arrowtips
To pierce the blanket of clouds
For to touch the very fabric of the sky itself
Countless granite fingers peak
Heavenward endeavouring to reach
Their supplications and intercessions
To present to utter and express to the most mighty eternal
Now unexpected humbled by the vastness of the mountainous throne
At whose feet they sudden quake
And quiver and cower ever meeker
All bravado bold now rapid evaporated in the great blue
As the regal reply in a torrent of verses is spake
Loud roared in peels of thunder
As great volcanic eruptions
Myriad fireworks through the firmament do blast
While great lightning flashes
Each hallowed utterance do punch out
In a phrases utter incomprehensible
Yet definitely understood most lucidly
By the supplicants now tremulous
And oh so regretful and so very ashamed at having thought themselves
Mightier than all the rest of the realm and e’en heaven itself oh!
And fit to challenge the eternal so silent and so watchful and still
In the throne room of the universe entire before them now a’seated

d.a.simpson

“The gold of day” a verse on the end of day.

The gold of day
Into hues of dusk
Now grows
As turns the sky
A mauve most rich
And the line of indigo
That yonder horizon embraces
Ever darker does ripen
The approach betimes of night to signify
While great battlements of brick red hills
That guard the bay
And into the ocean do dip
The cool of the waters to relish
Mantles of nighttime in maroon do assume
d.a.simpson

“A vision of times of yore” reflections on the current era.

A vision of times of yore
Invaded the dreams of those who dream
With a nostalgia for kingdoms past
Now forever lost
In the mists of time
That cast their shrouds
Over a world at war
By clouds of dread fear
And murderous pestilence to overcome
Kingdoms of freedoms
Beyond the wildest imaginings
Of today’s inhabitants
Of the brave broken new world
That rose from the ashes
Of the world of yesteryear
Of realms of plenty
When all about roamed abroad
Carefree and debonair
Upon this glorious earth that humanity calls home
A time and place of abundance
Of wealths material
And possibilities opportunities endless
The universe was the oyster
Oh indeed the very oyster
Of those born in a land and a time of plenty and abundance
Of those born in a utopia
Of those a cornucopia guaranteed
Who now dwell in a hostile land
Of no promises nor assurances
of instant satisfaction
All whims and desires fulfilled as soon as they begin
No queues and no shortages
But nothing changes for the have nots
For these ones
This life temporary
Upon this coil mortal
The way has been hard
For brief lives of much strife
Whose souls yearned and yearn to this day
For the promises assured
By the Ancient of days
While the haves now stare at the blank murals
In the halls of new heroes
And puzzle over how to begin
To refill the unplanned empty frescoes
And galleries of their lives anew
d.a.simpson

“Travellers celestial” reflections on the ever intriguing skies.

Travellers celestial aboard their monumental billows
Across the vast firmament do sail
From whencesoever they came
Endlessly onwards and onwards do they cruise
Towards their unknowable realm esoteric
Through the mountainous blue
Now they slow awhile
The world below
In its endless busyness miscellaneous embroiled
To regard and ponder
Yet one more tale
Of sights curious and nonsensical
In their log to record
As the expanse cosmic they traverse
In search of treasure precious
With intriguing insights myriad mingled

d.a.simpson

“Gold dust from the great disc of day” reflections on the ever enchanting beauty of nightfall.

Gold dust from the great disc of day
Its peace
Upon the weary
Does scatter
The fractious their fetters to loosen
As the ripening hours
Do the fatigued much soothe
With the balm of promised slumber
Now the golden daystar
Graces the vast heavens
With its elegant descent
Towards day’s end
As the sky rejoices
In a panorama of lilac and apricot
And the majestic red cliffs
That sweep the bay
With lassitude do swoon
As they await the night
Their repose for to seek
While the crescent of dark indigo
Upon the horizon
The onset of nightfall declares
To the relief of a languorous world

d.a.simpson

“Beneath a sky” evoked on an evening walk.

Beneath a sky
Of a heart of granite possessed
A trio of ravens
Upon a lofty branch of life devoid
Did upon a scene of bleakness
Ponder
As there blew in a brutal wind
Unannounced
Was it a bearer of ill tidings
Or e’en the holder of a personal grudge
‘Gainst the realm much forlorn
Whose silence and stillness
With lamentations replete
Yet not aloud voiced
But privately nursed
Heavenward languidly did rise
In thin plumes of smoke
From myriad prayer candles
As bells rang out
Across the realm
The spirits of the faithful
To console and fortify
Until the yoke burdensome
Of times of tribulation and woe
Was at the last lifted
And the ravens their vigil most bleak
Did relinquish
While the firmament
Now a joyous sunblessed azure did glow
And the afflicted a reprieve were granted
d.a.simpson

“Under the cloak of night” evoked on a late evening wander.

Under the cloak of night
When all were abed
And silence prevailed
There stirred a rustling
Amid the corridors of emptiness
In the forest
That blanketed the incline
Gracing the rolling hills
That from a deep ravine rose up
And a light breeze
In from the west did blow
To begin to play
Among the treetops
It skimmed their lofty peaks
And ruffled leaves
As it pirouetted
Across the wooded roof
And whistled a light air
Of a nocturne
Then whispered gentle lullabies
Beneath a moonlit sky
With myriad stars awash
d.a.simpson ©

“The hour of darkness” my recent musings.

The hour of darkness
Upon the realm did descend
Hills brooded dark
Beneath a sky that most sombre grew
A river sparkled bright no more
For it meandered now in a matt silver
Vast conifers
Their cloaks in hues of ebony did don
A turquoise lagoon by day
Awash with inky green grew
For ever near drew the hour of slumber
Black eagles aloft circled
Sanctuary for the night to seek
The fields by day in green attired
In grey were sudden blanketed
Their repose to take
Bellflowers did their veils
Over their sleepy heads draw
And close to themselves
Their petals they gathered
Until morn should come
d.a.simpson