Tracks of a Wandering Mind

Poetry, stories and random thoughts from a wandering mind.

Sonnet of Stars

(Playing with archaic form..basically Twinkle Twinkle on steroids.)

Thou little star that hangs in night time sky,
What great fell hand hath summoned forth thy light?
What hot cauldron hath served to shape thy form
And perched thee far above the earthly night?

How then art thou found here above the earth,
By accidental happenstance or fate?
Am I to praise that lucky random chance
Hath then so served to put thee in thy place?

Far rather than to thank a fickle turn,
Would I prefer to praise a Master touch,
Whose Hand upon the canopy of night
Proves well in hand the universe as such.

So to this end I think that I must make
Praise to the Master’s Hand, for Heaven’s sake!


November 13, 2011 Posted by | Poetry | | 4 Comments

Dread Night

(Some nights are long and slow, and some are worse. In terza rima form.)

I wait within the grip of a long night,
And hear again the ceaseless marching sound
Of a clock that will not aid time’s quick flight,

Where each slow moment weighs my spirit down
Until I can no longer hope to see
That sweet relief as daylight comes around.

I watch instead a clock that hears no plea,
But marshals every moment one by one
While I await the rising sun’s relief,

Which tells me that another night is done,
That finally the dreaded night has fled
And the hope of a new day has now come.

Remember though when evening sky turns red,
That you know that you still have night to dread.

November 13, 2011 Posted by | Poetry | , | 4 Comments

On Regret

Of all the things that you may do
And all that you have done;
Of all the plans that are complete
And those you’ve just begun;

Do not regret the life you’ve lived
Or the things that you have done,
For they determine who you are
And what you have become.

Regret instead a word unsaid,
A kindness incomplete.
Regret a road not traveled on,
A sunset left unseen.

Of all the things that we can do
And all that we can say,
The worst I think is to relive,
“I wish I had, that day.”

November 11, 2011 Posted by | Poetry | , , | 7 Comments

Wind Songs

Be quiet, be still and listen
To the song of wind in the trees.
The branches tap softly in time
With wind as it rustles the leaves.

With a thousand different voices
And each voice a different leaf,
The wind sings through the trees of fall
In a soft, gentle harmony.

Dried leaves that scurry on the ground
Are driven by a gentle breath,
And rustle in soft company
To play a dirge of summer’s death.

The song of wind in evergreen
Carries a faint sweet scent of pine,
So close your eyes and listen
As their wind song plays in your mind.

You can never hear the wind songs
In all the shout and noise of man,
But walk out, be still and listen
To witness the wind songs at last.

November 1, 2011 Posted by | Poetry | , , | 5 Comments


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