Constance Stadler

Insomniac
 

The divisor
between numb
and spare proficiency
 
White August sky
saturates
beclouded purpose.
 
Diurnal driftings denied
tick-tock accomplishment
clocked.
  The
verifiable worth,
of
precise
punctuated
  animus.
 
Repudiation is evident
For the cognizant
 
For the listless
 
  Inutile
Gibberish.

Constance Stadler © 2009

Ymdaith

 
You stand by the shore
At Swansea.
Looking to glimpse the horizon
Of your Dreams
  As
Bluster of March,
reminds you
  of form, yet
You revel and unfurl
To its winnowing bite, whirling
In magick metaphysical Flight.
 
You wander through Cobble
 And tarmac
And suddenly you see
Who you are
 
You see
  The totality
Of enmeshed Gossamer
 Spread free, set aloft,
  You see
Where you began and have gone
The Lattice of all of your choices
  Spun soft
And suddenly,
 
The Doubt
for once
  is silent.
 
You wander on Friend, riverbank
  to the Church
Of your Ancestors, where
Stone cherubim attend as they
Perish.
So intent, such the Pilgrim
You blithely forget
  You do not read a piddling
  Of Welch.
 
But as you re-enter stone home
You know you have gone
Somewhere as never before.
 
And your soul sweeps softly
O’er the brim of your hearth
Scooping your babes
Smiling
  At Floor.
 
*Journey    
 
Constance Stadler © 2009