#305 Embers

A flaming fire has beauty of its own

that Man’s cold fingers can’t claim to possess.

Science’s  flick’ring myst’ry can’t condone,

the lusts which young boys and girls can’t confess,

For youth has innocence that’s once consumed,

by embers which of flames are memory,

that make combustion from fresh air resumed,

Insane reality to fantasy:

The flame, the heat, the smoke, the noise, the light,

the mind , the heart, the breath,  the song, the soul,

crackle with an incandescent might,

sparkle with a reckless cruel control.

            Yes, fire marches with a slow surprise, 

            I sigh when I see burning in your eyes.

By David Billings © All Rights Reserved 2012

#310 The Discussion

What is this state Men call “Insanity”?

What men amongst us show us that they’re sane?

How can mere flesh conceive reality?

The three pounds of hamburg we call a “brain”

Is just a thin veneer above the beasts,

lowlier by far than angels pure,

So are our lucid claims just poor conceit?

And of our wisdoms how can we be sure?

To some the answer’s biological

while others turn to their theologies

yet our emotions are not logical,

such is the study of psychology.

            Such questions challenge our sobriety.

            Our answers define our society.

© All Rights Reserved 2012 by David Billings April 13 201 2

April Forest

 A tree in April is a splendid thing,

 her boney branches fan out their design,

 now free of winter snows for coming spring,

 while birds’ nests to her still are not assigned.

 Lifeless she seems, yet within her sap

 flows a hidden power we can’t see,

 now she’s wakened from her frozen nap,

 and thus her  promise: days of May we’ll see!

 But now she stands, devoid of foliage,

 roots thirstily suck ooze from  thawing ground,

 such sweet long instants seem a privilege,

 before the forests roar with leaf blown sound.

        The bones bloom tall as stark shadows contrast

        the spring buds which clothe bare Nature at last.

 ©  By David Billings  2012

John Pingree's Photos

Blues

Blue Curves

Drifts 1

Laval Lake

Stairs

SPRING ON THE POND

 

animation suspended

no life in snow

 

just days from now this pond will teem

with newborn beings

to stock the world

          with every species

                   two by two in billions

                             the genesis of all existence

 

but now the pond lies still

 

no life in snow

animation suspended

  

 

                                        © John Ambury, 2011. All rights reserved.

MY PATH

You say I am old
yes, son, I am old

you say my path is behind me:
lived, trodden, finished

yes, my past path is behind me
as yours is behind you

but my future path lies before me
as yours lies before you


long or short, it is mine to travel
mine to explore at my own pace
mine to see to its next bend
to its next fork
to its final gate

Yes, son, I am old
but I am not dead
I live, as you live

do not bury me while my path still lies before me.

                                           © John Ambury, 2012. All rights reserved.

April Forest: Derik Hawley and David Billings

April Forest

A tree in April is a splendid thing,

her boney branches fan out their design,

now free of winter snows for coming spring,

yet birds’ nests to her still are not assigned.

Lifeless she seems, yet within her sap

flows a hidden power we can’t see,

now she’s wakened from her frozen nap,

and thus her  promise: May days we’ll soon see!

But now she stands, devoid of foliage,

roots slowly suck ooze from the thawing ground,

such sweet long instants seem a privilege,

before the forests roar with leaf blown sound.

        The bones bloom tall as stark shadows contrast

        the spring buds which clothe bare Nature at last.

©  By David Billings All Rights Reserved April 7, 2012

Teepee Woman: Azhar Shemdin and John Ambury

TEEPEE WOMAN

From the mists that thread the trees

from the smoke of sweetgrass embers

from the earliest passed-down legends

came the ancient symbols

they appear and combine

separate and re-blend

shape-shifting

into forms that hold the world

patterns that explain the skies

solid as oak

fluid as water

ethereal as a dream

you know the mysteries, teepee woman

you see the meanings

you hear the answers

with my brittle, literal, civilized intelligence

I can barely think the questions

tell me what is real

teepee woman

                                        © John Ambury, 2012. All rights reserved.

(Inspired by the acrylic painting “Teepee woman and blue pyramid” by  Azhar Shemdin.)