Christmas Tidings

We just had a big party at a dear friends' the other night.  A poem to mark the occasion seemed in order...


The Yule log burns at Bonbon's
The Yule log burns at Bonbon's
With crackling, cheered delight
Heaping plate and brimming cup
And laughter booming bright!

It's Christmas time at Bonbon's
Where tinsel'd hearts abeat
With peace and joy wished to all
And to all tidings sweet.

The Yule log burns at Bonbon's
Much as we dream our best
We ne'er forget to revel
And spice our lives with zest!

--Jeff
jeff@newclassicstheatre.org

A Thousand Cranes

We're throwing a party for old friend Bonnie H, who said of gifts, "Don't want any.  Already got everything I need."

So....The inscription on the card says, "A thousand cranes (almost) to light your journey ahead with wisdom, peace and joy."

Happy Birthday BonBon!

Jeff and Manya

Two Hearts This World Have I Known

Two Hearts This World Have I Known

The first so parched I could weep

The second so deep I could drown

Whene'er I dare embark in each.

The first, mailed, stares out from her keep

Ne'er frail, ne'er weak, ne'er stripped is she,

Nay.  Nor is she lush, nor teeming,

Nor verdant, nor dreaming to be.

All who would know her break 'pon her

Stony walls high, thick and pit'less.

Their sole succor tear-smeared folly

Despair and wounds' thirsting distress.

The second's undefended shores

So bare, so rash, so little concealed

So little craft, bubblingly daft

All too often recklessly real.

To know this heart, then, is to plunge

Risking the self midst endless charms

Wandr'ing lost, myst'ry fathoms deep

Bewitched, drowning, snared in her arms.

By each heart the hardy hero

Is changed utterly, forged anew.

This, the ordeal: Chancing love's font

Better the trickle or deluge?

Jeff

newclassicstheatre.org

Long Have I Chased Inner Peace

(Well, since it appears that the Edmonds arts scene has shut down entirely for this spell of sunshine...)

Long Have I Chased Inner Peace
Flitt'ring flutt'ring, all flowers kissed
Brightly hued and fragrance sweet
A meadow's worth, nothing missed

But me.  I called to Peace, chased
Through meadow deep, my palm out
Stretched begging Peace to land
Cajoling, pleading, a-shout

To my hand to come, just once.
My tears stinging, staining my
Calls, my cheeks, my heart, my sleep
Always that sweet Peace denied.

At last, wearied dear and spent
I breathed my pain to a calm
Long and last, to my surprise
Peace alighted on my palm.

--Jeff
newclassicstheatre.org

Three Masks

Yes, I confess: It's true.  Novel writing - in the form of my new A Jade Coffeehouse; or playwrighting - in the form of my new A Dropped Stitch, going up in October; how are they constructed?  Usually via the process of sitting for months in utter agony, dreaming, always dreaming, waiting for the Muse to give me the power to wield words once more.  How do I spend the hours 'tween times?  Well, crafting ditties such as these...

Three-fold Masks Have I Worn
One, all the lands to see
Another have my lovers' born(e)
The last, serves sole for me.

Ah, but what joy, one to wear!
And one alone for all times
All places, all spaces where
In all variant of climes.

Ne'er more pretend, to fib,
To ride a pompous gust of heat
Or chill. To trim my sail, my jib,
To soothe a pfuffle eased.

Begone smooth face perfected
'Twout chip nor mar to see!
Too, smooth tongue affected
Honey dripped unceasing sweet.

Nay more! Just me, 'tis just me
You mark now, spotted and maul'd
Yet, burden'd light as can be.
For, one mask is no mask at all.

Jeff
newclassicstheatre.org