art music poetry

Oceans in the Moon

Oceans in the Moon,
Swell and ebb,
Lost in shadows;
Shone through the web.
Shifting shape,
Glowing orb,
Echoes in pale yellow;
Splashed on wet grey kerb.
And yet it rises from deep within you,
And reaches out to depths unknown.
And somehow it sings out loud to bring you
To a place you know
Is home.
Tides on La Luna,
Cusp and bulb,
Cast in shallows;
Laced through the dark.
Swelling pearlescence,
Unclasping and unheard,
Soothing mist and mellow;
Loves do not yet disturb.

Emma Scott 6.4.14

Paul…

Cake ‘bakes’ in your loft space,
Dough crusts streak your cheeks.
Cracked leather blue car seats
Thumb pressed; the Handbrake creaks.
Newborn kittens squealing wet,
Nestled in crumpled sheets.
Mud ‘bakes’ grip our crevassed knees,
Hands and hard soled feet.
Echoes of church choir songs,
Gravelly heights voices reach,
Where we perched on ‘uni’ rooftops,
Above lectures where they teach.
Broken bike and black-bruised boy,
To shells on white- Kenyan beach.
Tangled frayed fingers frets and strings
To strummed rhythm and symphony.
Still vivid, yet years spin shadows
Into thinning hair, face and skin.
Through shallow aging layers,
Looking out, and looking in.
Life ‘bakes’ thrusts our trembled minds,
Hearts and soft souls to swim.

Happy Birthday Paul from Emma Xxxxxx

Half seen

I’m a flickering flicker,
Not a full burning flame.
A rook on the edge of a checkerboard game;
A row of bold letters but not the full name.
The mist in the darkness,
Not the shadowing Moon.
And a step on wet moss,
Not the wings at high noon.
A hand on the shoulder,
Not a grip on the chest.
A prayer and a sigh,
Not a sign of the Blessed.
But an intake of air
And a flutter of Heart
And a crackle of twig
And a space to depart.
On second glance back
To the space in-between.
It’s part of the Whole
And it’s only half seen.
Emma 10th March 2015.

Illusion
by Ron Olsen

The greatest compliment ever paid
Came from Gene D’Angelo
When he said
“I’ll have to send three guys after you
To bring you back”

He didn’t of course
So I left Columbus
For Pittsburgh
And Baltimore
And Los Angeles

To find myself

And to eventually
Interview his daughter Beverly
In a park
In Beverly Hills
Princess Leia was there too

So my ego was fulfilled

And the circle turns
And reality
Slaps me back
From my Star Wars illusion

None of it really matters
For a boy from the Midwest
Does it?

What is accomplishment
Really?
This, or something else?

It’s left to you
To connect the dots

I no longer can

We spend far too much time
Trying to determine who we really are
Only to eventually discover
It matters not

Not at all
Even though it’s everything

©2015 Ron Olsen / all rights reserved