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