Ode to Coming Home
If it is that I’m blessed
to ride and bear leader’s crest,
then so be it, gilt wings I’ll wear
and home, my heart, will me be near.
To incite a god-arousing war,
the likes of which seen once before,
we ruin kingdoms and mouth for blood
through shrieks of fated felled in mud.
I am still. I will not fear my death.
I tread with pride and steadied breath
to face that fate as legionnaire,
I raise my bow and fortune bear,
though a bitter tale blows from the heights,
hoary as hell and, scathing, alights;
cold as traitors swung from gallows,
enough to make the heart chill, chaste and sallow.
And yet, riding those winds down from the range
is apple blossom, sweet and strange,
from ancient trees with feet in loam
along the road that leads me home
But ’til my last fight home must hold,
while the war-heart’s wings unfold
between the screaming and the choir.
In company, alone, I traipse a darker shire.
poems, prose and pathways
Writer | Artist
Fatos e Curiosidades sobre a natureza e tecnologia
Meditations on Art and Life
"per l' allegria il pianeta nostro è poco attrezzato. Bisogna strappare la gioia ai giorni futuri "
a resource for moving poetry
Linking collage work to the meaning of personal and universal symbols.
This is my adventurous story about buying, designing, and renovating homes in ITALY