'frozen, time's deluge' or 'kisses her hand'

'frozen, time's deluge' or 'kisses her hand' timothy r gates, 12/30/2011

frozen, time's deluge
kisses her hand
demure, not looking away
euphemisms become the word,
when the original becomes its icon -
love's genesis is lust's aspiration,
learning to step into another's vision.
here love's aspiration holds hands -
our conversion steps out,
baptism's font opens her womb
thrilled by her moisture's deluge,
my eyes seep.
moment's whisper,
'there is no other now.'

'The Dance' or 'Melancholy irony'

'The Dance' or 'Melancholy irony' timothy r gates, 12/15/2012

Finding Melancholy,
she asked me to dance
and dance, we did.
Fall's leaves, winter's diamonds
spring's resurrections, summer's moon's sun -
noted.
Beauty's shadow,
touch or her hem, sufficient,
don't so easily hear her whisper.
Wings as translucent as her frame,
irony is that Melancholy introduced us,
and dance, we did.

'Lennon, George and Jesus'

'Lennon, George and Jesus' timothy r gates, 12/08/2011

sang peace songs with them,
George and John still going on.
never thought we'd reach twenty
(have)
they're dead.
Jesus loved John,
accused of popularity above his -
they loved to sing and dance together,
John probably competed for the lead.
George merely smiled.

'insurrection's superlative'

'insurrection's superlative' timothy r gates, 12/02/2011

Death's resurrection
we claim insurrection's
superlative,
'O Death, where is thy sting,
O Grave, where is thy victory?'
is he found in homilies' platitudes
scientists' experiments
agnostics' speculations
Why not,
we weep because we love
laugh because we miss them
whispers let go of because there are no words?
'O Moon you gaze upon these sands
O Sun you invite our kiss that she might incline her ear.'
at their loss, ours, we do
smile,
when memory is realized
presently.