fleeting splendor

Spring’s first day: Nature
with snow crystals daubs each tree
gone in noontime’s sun

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© Gregory V Driscoll  2015

last weekend of leave before going off to war – a memory in the form of a ballad

Rose of Sharon sunset’s child
with your hair of braided dawn
your smile of wicked dreams

I am the music of the flicking tongue
the serpent wriggling in your garden
night of the saber’s pleasure sheathed

oh Rose of Sharon

you are the wonderment of innocence
the chittering laughter of birds in sunlight
the wild earnestness of a maiden’s love

Rose of Sharon

we spar in our conversation   both
avoiding our true purpose here
amidst the music and the dancing

oh Rose of Sharon

you lay your hand upon my arm
you whisper your question at my ear
you stand back again   you nod   you smile

Rose of Sharon

I’m the one who blushes  the one who’s coy
you smile again and wink   you lean toward me
kiss me on the lips   say softly I want you

oh Rose of Sharon

I tender my hand   you take it in yours
you lead me through the bar’s exit into the night
to your car   your trouble finding your key

Rose of Sharon

I take your hand  lead you two rows over
open my car’s door  kiss you  help you in
I go around the car then get in too

oh Rose of Sharon

we sit for minutes watching the night sky
you reach over and take my hand once more
do you think I’m pretty  you say to me

Rose of Sharon

so you’ve never done this before  I ask
you lower your head and shake out a no
you look at me again  tears in your eyes

oh Rose of Sharon

why pick me  I ask   I touch your face in shadow
you say  you look so gentle so lonely
you just seem to need me to want you

Rose of Sharon

so here I am  you go on  here you are
we’re two strangers in a strange place   you laugh
I laugh too  then I lean toward you  kiss you

oh Rose of Sharon

your hand goes to my lap searching fumbling
not here  I say   not now   I want to see you naked
your exquisite hair fanned out on the pillow

Rose of Sharon sunset’s child
with your hair of braided dawn
your smile of wicked dreams

*    *   *

© Gregory V Driscoll  2015

innuendo

in the east there begins to burgeon
the rosebud of a new morning
from this height I see it
to my right a leg stretching out:
the bridge gleaming in the daylight
to my left in the western sky
the other leg but in shadow:
a thin dark haze of birds flying
just roused from their nests and perches
at the midpoint with what seems tawny down
of stray clouds formed   there looms
as if blushing   that cherished bloom
which grants to my short days –
otherwise so cold and grim – all
their luster and their joy
their warmth and loveliness
from this height  all this I discern
and I hear you sighing
in the morning breeze

*    *   *

© Gregory V Driscoll  2015

in re: U. S. sanctions against Venezuela, or the laughter heard round the world

who better to know
about flouting human rights:
Barack Obama

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© Gregory V Driscoll  2015

Sonnet

You, young woman of the alluring eyes,
your sure beauty has quite enraptured me.
Being your love’s object would be a prize
to most surely prod all others’ envy.
Here am I, love’s fool, leaping from wish to fact
when in truth I barely know your name.
But in your sweet presence I lose all tact –
your splendors’ boldness from my art evokes the same.
So let this sonnet stand as beacon bright
to let all know how your wild beauty’s bloom,
dear to my flesh and heart, both day and night,
can fill the world with joy, with sweet perfume.
No answer now do these poor verses seek
save blush or furtive tear on your fair cheek.

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© Gregory V Driscoll  2015

winter ending prayer

moonlight casts shadows
of trees   lively patterns dark
against the blank snow

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© Gregory V Driscoll  2015

sleeping beauty

veil on veil of snow
hides the earth and her splendors
she awaits Spring’s kiss

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© Gregory V Driscoll  2015