Angelic antiphons rebound
From the coliseum walls
Echoing chords of delicacy and delight
Dying in the wind only to be reborn
With every progressive step
Brass gleams in the sun of noon
This is our moment
And the pride of our power
Bursts in color and music
Shape and sound
Flags and drums
Controlled fury
Exquisitely shaped restraint
Perfect precision
Creation in motion
This is our moment
To shine and shimmer
To blare and blaze
To awe and arrive
We will prevail
And vanquish
Our own lack of discipline
And we will be
Victorious
Spark (2007)
A miniscule spark
Imperceptible
Except for a wisp of smoke
She left behind her
And a remaining radiance of heat
In her trail
Hot, powerful, brilliant
Bound to kindle a massive inferno
She was the fire of potential
Coming into a dry world
To set it ablaze
She dodged the air currents
Trying to blow her out
And fueled herself on them
Burning brighter
Because of them
She escaped the dampness
Attempting to extinguish her
Pushing past them
With sizzle and steam
As though on a fuse
That precious, vital spark raced
Touching the parched and lifeless
Creating a beautiful pulse
Of comforting heat
The spark burned fast
Bright and intense
And just as quickly as she caught
She was gone
But every atom that touched her
Still blazes with her heat
Still glows with her warmth
Still burns with her energy
And that blessed fire she left us
Will never disappear
As we cherish the embers of her life
And stir the coals of her memory
We will always feel warm
And hold a debt
To that tiny
Scintillating
Spark
© Thomas Lee Horton, All Rights Reserved.
Written to honor the memory of Ashley Strickland.
Imperceptible
Except for a wisp of smoke
She left behind her
And a remaining radiance of heat
In her trail
Hot, powerful, brilliant
Bound to kindle a massive inferno
She was the fire of potential
Coming into a dry world
To set it ablaze
She dodged the air currents
Trying to blow her out
And fueled herself on them
Burning brighter
Because of them
She escaped the dampness
Attempting to extinguish her
Pushing past them
With sizzle and steam
As though on a fuse
That precious, vital spark raced
Touching the parched and lifeless
Creating a beautiful pulse
Of comforting heat
The spark burned fast
Bright and intense
And just as quickly as she caught
She was gone
But every atom that touched her
Still blazes with her heat
Still glows with her warmth
Still burns with her energy
And that blessed fire she left us
Will never disappear
As we cherish the embers of her life
And stir the coals of her memory
We will always feel warm
And hold a debt
To that tiny
Scintillating
Spark
© Thomas Lee Horton, All Rights Reserved.
Written to honor the memory of Ashley Strickland.
Holding (2009)
Existence on hold
Waiting for a break in the inaction
Stymied by the endless possibilities
Unable to see certainty
Merely wishing to make life happen
Fearful of what may occur
Fearful of what may not
That devilish empty hope
That some external force
Will shape me
Into what I feel
I cannot become
Of my own volition
Procrastination
Reigns and lords heavy over me
Rains and pours the wait interminably
From an angry black cloud
With a lining of fool’s gold
And so I wait
Hesitate
Holding
But holding you
Is compensation enough
For my impatience
And holding you
Is reason enough to wait out the malaise
Holding you
Is motivation
To make my life happen
So I can get back to what is important:
Holding you
Waiting for a break in the inaction
Stymied by the endless possibilities
Unable to see certainty
Merely wishing to make life happen
Fearful of what may occur
Fearful of what may not
That devilish empty hope
That some external force
Will shape me
Into what I feel
I cannot become
Of my own volition
Procrastination
Reigns and lords heavy over me
Rains and pours the wait interminably
From an angry black cloud
With a lining of fool’s gold
And so I wait
Hesitate
Holding
But holding you
Is compensation enough
For my impatience
And holding you
Is reason enough to wait out the malaise
Holding you
Is motivation
To make my life happen
So I can get back to what is important:
Holding you
Haunted (2009)
Night has fallen, she has gone, the darkness now takes hold
My psyche faces phantoms that eclipse those tales of old
Thrilling chills passed down to me in tomes of yellowed lore
Pale against the ghosts of memories born moments before
Her flesh feels fresh and firm and smooth and glides under my fingers
Her laughter rings within my ears, her subtle fragrance lingers
The sweetness of her mouth on mine, her loving touch remains
My heart yet aches, my soul is bound to her with iron chains
I am gladly haunted, I do not want to forget
And I refuse to bear the brunt of sorrowful regret
Painful parting I would endure thousands of times o’er
To hold her in my arms another single moment more
And were I faced with choosing to have never loved, or lost
I know that she was worth the price, no matter what the cost
My psyche faces phantoms that eclipse those tales of old
Thrilling chills passed down to me in tomes of yellowed lore
Pale against the ghosts of memories born moments before
Her flesh feels fresh and firm and smooth and glides under my fingers
Her laughter rings within my ears, her subtle fragrance lingers
The sweetness of her mouth on mine, her loving touch remains
My heart yet aches, my soul is bound to her with iron chains
I am gladly haunted, I do not want to forget
And I refuse to bear the brunt of sorrowful regret
Painful parting I would endure thousands of times o’er
To hold her in my arms another single moment more
And were I faced with choosing to have never loved, or lost
I know that she was worth the price, no matter what the cost
Quid Pro Quo (2004)
Twelve feet from me she sits
Hair fatigued, stringing down in limp worn-out curls
Like the muckiest of mops
Amateurish ankle tats, red and green sunshine
A chain of vines, a dangling Celtic cross
A washed-out cardigan robin's egg blue
A floral paisley baby-doll top hiding floppy, bulbous tits
Faded camo pants and black flip-flops
She knows she's cool
Too too cool
Bitching to the bartender
About her DUI
It sucks I don't have my car, man
Tips at the restaurant are for shit
And my roommate is a bitch
Busting my balls about my guitar
Yeah I play at all hours
Man, she can't understand
It's my art, dude
Girl just don't have it in her soul
Not like I do, I breathe music, man
It's like air, dude, it's poetry
It's gotta be beautiful
I need some beauty in my life, man
She spies me from one corner of her eye
My image filters into her peripheral vision
Past the thick black plastic frame of her eyeglasses
And believing herself unseen
She sneers at my plainness
Curls her lip at my conventionality
Despises what she sees
As colorless words plod through her head
Words like vanilla
Words like water
Words like nothing
She rolls her eyes at the bartender
Silently mocking me
Unaware that she is a poem
Even as she composes me as one in her head
And that poetry isn't always the beauty in our lives, man
And that she has just become, for me
An ugly, dirty, sad, stupid poem
Hair fatigued, stringing down in limp worn-out curls
Like the muckiest of mops
Amateurish ankle tats, red and green sunshine
A chain of vines, a dangling Celtic cross
A washed-out cardigan robin's egg blue
A floral paisley baby-doll top hiding floppy, bulbous tits
Faded camo pants and black flip-flops
She knows she's cool
Too too cool
Bitching to the bartender
About her DUI
It sucks I don't have my car, man
Tips at the restaurant are for shit
And my roommate is a bitch
Busting my balls about my guitar
Yeah I play at all hours
Man, she can't understand
It's my art, dude
Girl just don't have it in her soul
Not like I do, I breathe music, man
It's like air, dude, it's poetry
It's gotta be beautiful
I need some beauty in my life, man
She spies me from one corner of her eye
My image filters into her peripheral vision
Past the thick black plastic frame of her eyeglasses
And believing herself unseen
She sneers at my plainness
Curls her lip at my conventionality
Despises what she sees
As colorless words plod through her head
Words like vanilla
Words like water
Words like nothing
She rolls her eyes at the bartender
Silently mocking me
Unaware that she is a poem
Even as she composes me as one in her head
And that poetry isn't always the beauty in our lives, man
And that she has just become, for me
An ugly, dirty, sad, stupid poem
Cassandra (1985)
You who denied your favors even to a god
One who had blessed you with such a gift
You have sealed your own fate
How could you not know what was to come?
He could only offer warmth, wisdom, love, light
And life enternal, elevating you
From your lowly human station
And placing you in the Pantheon
But you refused
Now you are a laughingstock
A foolish soothsayer
Sowing her folly hither and yon
You can see the doom and the despair
The war and the undoing
The misery and the malady
And you warn them
But they do not believe
No longer can you discern the proper road
Without credence, truth foretold is no better than a lie
You can see the future clearly, and you know
You alone may laugh in the end
But is indeed alone that you will laugh
One who had blessed you with such a gift
You have sealed your own fate
How could you not know what was to come?
He could only offer warmth, wisdom, love, light
And life enternal, elevating you
From your lowly human station
And placing you in the Pantheon
But you refused
Now you are a laughingstock
A foolish soothsayer
Sowing her folly hither and yon
You can see the doom and the despair
The war and the undoing
The misery and the malady
And you warn them
But they do not believe
No longer can you discern the proper road
Without credence, truth foretold is no better than a lie
You can see the future clearly, and you know
You alone may laugh in the end
But is indeed alone that you will laugh
Living the Dream (2009)
Memorial day weekend
Nine years ago we spent our holiday
Bailing this house out from a flood
Mud and muck wiped out years of treasures
Today, there is no trace of that cataclysm
All is dry and clean except the sky
Which is murky and threatening rain
Still, we hit the pool and play
Though we call it swimming,
We really only bob and splash
And the children have
Their floatees and water-guns
And see me as a human tower
To climb and knock down in their war
Time to dine inside
My brother says grace over the menu of fried everything
Fish, bread, taters, onions, chicken
Themselves fresh from their swimming
In southern grease so good, so good
As I scoop a second bowl of my sister’s famed potato salad
I realize the beauty that surrounds me
In these plain people that I hold so dear
Finding in them that precious irritation
That I would not trade for all the treasures of this world
Or the golden streets of the next
The humblest of pleasures coalesce
Seeing my mother hold her great-granddaughter
Playing cards with my nephews
Telling jokes with my father
Hugging my nieces
Reminiscing and remembering
When this life was just a dream
When we were all so young and accounted for
And when dreams counted for everything, and everything was the dream
Now everything means nothing and this is the dream
And it’s all ours
Nine years ago we spent our holiday
Bailing this house out from a flood
Mud and muck wiped out years of treasures
Today, there is no trace of that cataclysm
All is dry and clean except the sky
Which is murky and threatening rain
Still, we hit the pool and play
Though we call it swimming,
We really only bob and splash
And the children have
Their floatees and water-guns
And see me as a human tower
To climb and knock down in their war
Time to dine inside
My brother says grace over the menu of fried everything
Fish, bread, taters, onions, chicken
Themselves fresh from their swimming
In southern grease so good, so good
As I scoop a second bowl of my sister’s famed potato salad
I realize the beauty that surrounds me
In these plain people that I hold so dear
Finding in them that precious irritation
That I would not trade for all the treasures of this world
Or the golden streets of the next
The humblest of pleasures coalesce
Seeing my mother hold her great-granddaughter
Playing cards with my nephews
Telling jokes with my father
Hugging my nieces
Reminiscing and remembering
When this life was just a dream
When we were all so young and accounted for
And when dreams counted for everything, and everything was the dream
Now everything means nothing and this is the dream
And it’s all ours
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