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Joseph Ostapiuk

Not In Passing

Not so much in passing,
as my mind relapsing,
do I find,
time is no longer grasping

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The Black Chesnut Tree

What lies past this plain I don't know,
but i'm sure the black chestnut tree does so.

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Songbird

Where do the birds go after they sing?
When the wind is unrelenting
and the rain begins to pour.
Does their soothing voice soar?
When their songs can no longer be heard?
Or do they cower like me
and tremble incessantly.

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Spring Alludes

I watched the boldest of streams
give way to this winter freeze
The water
frozen under
a sheet
of ice and
breeze as white
as the midnight moon
and soon,
when all of this life is thrown asunder
crippled under the snow in which we stand and wonder,
I'll remember
I'll remember this place in summer

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The

From my walking
on the earth
it hurts;
for reasons unknown to me,
to feel
the breath of the wind
and the sigh of the sea's
like a frigid, barren
icy breeze.
And there's something cold
that lays it's head,
on the lovely warmth
of natures bed
that seems to remind me
of how it feels
to rove among
these empty fields

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Perhaps the World Was Held on a Thin String

Perhaps the world is held on a thin string.
Twirling and spinning as days pass on by.
Obliviousness is sin.

Perhaps you'll learn how light wanes.
The tragedy of night,
mirrors nothingness in the day.

Perhaps in a moment, you will say
'tis only an hour,
but an hour here today.'

And if love portrays itself as spring in the sun,
it's beauty can be missed,
for in the night it will be done.

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Candlelight Low

Low, candlelight low
Flickering wildly,
your departing glow

Your light waving
to and fro.
Not gentle,
into the night,
do you go.

Combating the impending darkness
that creeps in slow,
your candlelight stays,
and jumps madly.
Towards the edge of doom
you go.

But Troy,
fight you will,
these fences will begin to seal,

[...] Read more

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Sailing

Sailing

My eyes,
so heavy and malign.
words thought in a line
Downward
and deep,
soon.
How
soon
to sleep?
Falling
down,
to the depth.
Weight,
hanging
down.
Off my eyelids
to
the

[...] Read more

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The Grove

Blueberries and vines over the fence
like wayward lines passing over the rigids and boundaries
and bleeding;
it's skin holds the blood of the divine.
And beyond it,
the beige and tan fields swooping up and down,
down in the valley floor,
the dry brittle grain,
exposed to the sun.
'One begins to wonder in times of greater discomfort.'
The valley opens and closes for miles,
only imagining it's touch;
the distant ridge line
holds breathlessly still.
It's autumn leaves beginning,
to fall against the curtain
past the crimson red vines,
meandering through beside
The setting sun.

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Windows To The Soul

Nature opens,
her eyes are bold.
Two opaque puddles reflecting on the floor.

Her smile's afixiated.
without feeling at all,
a white rip in the sky,
and entangled vine hands
seem to hold my attention
long enough to gaze,
to be lost in her eyes
and see the scene of her choice.
Upside down copper trees
and dark,
brass colored leaves.

So inviting,
soothing, is her voice,
greeting you, passing through
to the scene of her choice.

[...] Read more

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