Snowflake
Snowflake
Single, solitary angel of wing
sifting softly, slowly sadly thou bring
Mine heart tumbling, trembling tragically down
As thou makes thy journey
To the ground.
Fleeting, frozen feather of white
Doest thine heart shine with the sun and light
That a cloud of high did set thee free
Hast thou fallen from the sky into the heart
Of me.
Wisps of whimsical wintry wind
Thou rides ‘round mine head as doest thou spin
Powdery kisses perfectly placed
The lilting of thy lace ‘pon
My face.
Touch, tease, tickle my nose
Lay ‘pon my tongue thy bittersweet ambrosia
For alas my endearments warm I fear
Are to leave me to be holding what ‘tis only thy
Tear.
Charles Coakley Simpson
Conversations with Clouds
Conversations with Clouds
As I lie here in this tall, green grass, I court the company of cotton bears and cosmic bunnies. Therefore, petitioning heaven for peace of mind, that dare I die tomorrow it would feel good to live today, and so I share my thoughts with the sky—
Rolling white caps of stratus and quo
awash in rhapsody blue,
Tall and proud for to be a cloud
is to be a rogue ‘tis true.
Wanderers, drifters, coasters of cumulus,
of what places have you seen?
‘Tis not so much of where you are going,
but of where you have already been.
And though I have traveled many a mile,
there is knowledge that I require.
Would now you impart your wisdom true
for this I do so desire.
For I have seen the end of my days,
would it be too little too late?
That I court regret and am thus beset
to only tempt that fate.
As ‘tis not so much the things I’ve done
but the things I wanted to do,
And ‘tis not so much the loves I’ve won
but the love I wanted true.
Bridges I’ve burned are lessons learned
and wisdoms by which to live.
Yet the hardest coin ever I earned
was the knowledge of how to forgive.
The resolution I have come to conclusion
I have lived life as like a cloud,
And the only solution is the restitution
for what sins I have endowed.
This burden of guilt that I bear to grave
be my only heart once broken,
And that is the love for you that I spake
but yet have never spoken.
As my thoughts grasp the sky wondering why
I let go of a love that should be,
I know now a cloud has a soul as a soul ‘tis a cloud
and a cloud ‘tis a soul to be free.
And closing my eyes—I listen for her heart.
Charles Coakley Simpson
Fate
Fate
What is the fault in our stars
that could I have held you but once,
I would have held you forever
If ever I was destined—to hold you at all
Charles Coakley Simpson
Seashell
Seashell
My little heart of pink and pearl
bourn from bed of coral,
Deepest in blue I remember you
a shellfish with a soul.
Tiny crustacean, cerulean elation,
found is your way to me.
‘Cross whitened sands into my hands
a siren sad of sea.
Shallows roared, washed ashore
abandoned and alone.
Yet ‘tis within your kiss that I remiss,
your mother calls you—
Home.
Charles Coakley Simpson
The Memory
The Memory
I had thought to capture the moment,
However fragile. However fleeting.
And feel it move between the palms of my hands.
Soft and silent, like a moth.
With wings fluttering–yet frightened.
as it searches for light–
Within the darkness of my skin.
Charles Coakley Simpson
Feathers
Feathers
When I hear the sound
of sadness. And the light is broken
by the silence. Of the trees.
I know all the birds have flown Away.
Their wings like words whispering
Your name
Charles Coakley Simpson
After the Rain
After the Rain
When once tears did fall–
that we were embraced by the joy of intimacy,
and yet the deluge which befalls us now
is not for the want we have of holding each other still,
but that we never held each other
Enough
Charles Coakley Simpson
Love and Death
Love and Death
May I find my blessings where they are:
Lost in the reverberating laughter of my childhood,
and hidden in the quiet moments when I held you in my arms.
Yet even as Fate scatters these fortunes to the wind
I have still to find the strength to say
Goodbye
Charles Coakley Simpson
Tender Hooks
Tender hooks
Tender are the hooks of what might have been
thus with fond despair I do regale in them
Splendor of sadness and lighthearted regret
are the sustenance of hearts thus beset
Might the trappings of hope been false with allure
I grieve them with grace that I may endure
Thus I pray fair the imminence of death
shall spare you the pain of my dying breath
and think of me, as I thought of you when
Tender were the hooks of what might have been.
Charles Coakley Simpson
December
December
Here lies my lament–
deep beneath the cold-hard ground
where the lilacs bloom
Charles Coakley Simpson
Charles
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