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