Solace
Who am I to say,
that thine beauty is fair
and should be exempt
from all of life's despair?
I,
the weeping flower
leans my petals
against the fresh snowed floor.
Reminiscing in these long nights of yore.
Wishing to see my sunshine,
in all of her grace
to keep me warm and plentiful
in this snow fallen place.
But though ever slow,
soon I know,
you will rise
so gracefully above the o'er snowed horizon
and keep me close,
as the visions beneath your closed eyelids.
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poem by Joseph Ostapiuk
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Through the Shutter
The dull transfiguration's of this hapless old room.
The rusted edges,
orange-brown autumn leaves
on Yosemite's endless trees.
And I'm sure,
you can feel my sigh
With my head tilted upwards,
As I watch, the green paint peeling
and small flakes falling,
it's color becomes less overwhelming.
The rooms passage,
less open than before
still open,
none the less
leads to nowhere
for ages hence
and I sit here waiting,
patiently staying
watching the beautiful scene outside of the window before me.
and my eyes do seem
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poem by Joseph Ostapiuk
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The Rivers Edge
While drifting on these ebony waves of silk,
the air is cooler here,
where my feet aren't touching the ground
A dreary archway of trees surround,
the entrance to the woods upon me.
My sight has seemed to wake the leaves,
slightly shaking the trees.
Waking the birds,
but not a sound I can hear.
And with every passing cloud.
I feel as if time has been sealed on this scene.
For a moment,
this light feels serene.
And this picture,
is oh so crystal clear.
And the sky,
so divine in color,
a dark blue,
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poem by Joseph Ostapiuk
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Wonder
Amid the clouds and darkness,
my soul perches itself on the rooftop of the world.
Staring down, peering long,
into the fleeting puddle on the barren sun baked floor.
Drop by drop,
lifting into the heavens.
Like a lost soul,
searching for its ending.
As we all watch,
and envy its celestial path,
I wonder.
If demons and angels alike envy us the same
awed in our sinful ways.
Reaching their outstretched arms to the ends of their capabilities,
until only a teardropp filled the puddle once again,
until the ocean sucks the moisture out of hell itself.
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poem by Joseph Ostapiuk
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Something In The Mist (Written With John Leon)
There was something I had missed,
While passing through the mist
A lonely shadow, or an empty hollow
Not so clear, and cunning
My eyes had missed, but something
'Tis' nothing' I reminisce me uttering
Evading my thoughts and stumbling,
On cobblestone floor
And through deepest darkness
I fled the night
'But what if? ', I soon found myself wondering
Upon trails of translucent light,
Had the perpetual film of air concealed?
A doppelganger, a mare in flight?
Had illness crept inside my mind?
'No' a marauding voice responded,
Placing anchors in my bones
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poem by Joseph Ostapiuk
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The Wavering Grain
Just as smoke from the fire
rises to the canopy of pine,
my eyes believe,
'thine beauty is mine.'
Observing the embers,
as they flash and die.
Through the air,
so clear and fine.
My eyes conceive.
'thine beauty is mine.'
These sights alone,
have led me to the road,
covered in gravel,
isolated in it's own
Walking past the house of the owner,
down to the river,
I studder.
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poem by Joseph Ostapiuk
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