Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on February 25, 2012
Beyond the bay at the very edge of the world
Snow nestles against Vancouver Island
Under a gray capped sky
Where white seems unlikely
And sometimes impossible
But there seems no hope of spring time
As I dig holes for the primroses
So recently on the dining room table
Now in need of a garden spot
For their impressionist splendor
A muted palet for this day's
Late winter damp ground
Alive with night crawlers
Busily making summer soil
For patient day lilies
Like the slant sunlight
At the end of the afternoon
Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on February 24, 2012
You have become memory now
Framed in the limpid past
Held in my mind's eye
A painting hung in a dark corner
Forgotten from the last exhibit
A portrait among abstract expressions
Kinetic sculptures roam and
Act out the historic narrative
Of stories told and stories hidden
Too fragile for daylight
Shared only in shadowed spaces
To somnolent dreamers
One door opens another closes
Breaks the serenity of silence
A movement from room to room
Of shuffling steps along the hallway
The click of a light going on
Unseen behind the closed door
Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on February 23, 2012
What happened to authenticity
Grounded in a sense of being
Right here
In purposeful response
To time's swirling spiral
Now and now
Unbowed by public whims
In their hourly inconsistency
Speaking out freely
In distinctive clarity
To friend and stranger
About despicable behavior
Hidden behind celebrity
Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on February 22, 2012
We are dreamers of dreams
Intersecting one another
In overlapping circles
We take tangential turns
To spin out our webs
For this and all moments
Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on February 21, 2012
The light comes
The light comes
Across the years
To this moment
With all it has seen
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