Interlace

Tiger

a bunch of scribbles, mid studying for the Series 7

(update - passed!)

The Flowers (& a poem)

I placed flowers on a cenotaph, right before the rain,

To respect and mourn though I do not know of whose remains.

The sunset, in dimming light and cloudy haze,

With a light drizzle, a sparkling rain.

I look over the rolling hills and plains,

While the dusty tablet’s dirt starts dissolving from the rain.

It starts pouring harder, Heaven’s type of laugh,

And I begin to see dirt dripping, uncovering the epitaph.

I then feel drops on my neck as I have no roof,

Until it is pouring all around me from the sunbeam-poof –

I struggle and gasp as if I’m caught between earth and ocean,

Gentle poise and sway given way to violent motion.

Forceful rain hits the flowers, and they start to swirl,

A whirlwind picks up, to my bouquet unfurl.

I have to let the flowers go so I can run,

As darkness creates a hurricane hiding the sun.

A muddy Earth beneath me is swallowing me alive,

But I won't let this rain push me to the ground from the sky.

Shelter I find – I look back and see my flowers whirl and flee.

I wait until the rain stops to let light come, finally, to me.

The afternoon sky shines dim and dead,

The bushes and trees’ leaves have all shed.

But I see the silently clean cenotaph, a gray dome,

Triumphant from the ground, and I walk to the tomb.

There is no dirt, no dust, and my flowers are not there,

But the sky is now clear, Heaven’s pavilion – the air.

The air smells like the salty shore –

A cool breath come from rain after it poured.

When I get closer, I see the words I couldn’t see before.

I would like to know whose stone this is,

And apologize that gone are the flowers I brought to give.

A rainbow emerges in a million-colored bow and beam,

The fantastic shining light making this slate-gray stone gleam.

I think the aftermath is beautiful.

So I touch the stone, I touch the burial,

An ardor of rest and love,

I close my eyes, like a peaceful dove.

I feel joyous, clear, and fresh,

As into engraved letters my fingers do press,

Until the feeling starts to form into words –

But wait – these names I feel – these names I’ve heard.

I flutter my eyes open and feel a swelling so divine,

The names that are carved – one is yours, one is mine.

Such harmonious madness – this death must be a dream,

Either that or I’ve yet to wake from a happy sleep.

How is it that I’ve yet to shed a tear?

Why do I see our grave and think love not fear?

All the earth and air and hours –

I stand to go find the missing pieces of my flowers.

--L.T.

Flowers & Earth & Moon (& a poem)

Squinting through plastic lenses to see the sun before it goes –

Light-weight cardboard glasses perched atop my nose,

We all tilt our gazes towards the sky, 

I want to see the day turn to night.

The moon closes in, as if to shut the sun’s eyes.

The sky falls asleep – momentarily – goodbye.

Our white orb forever fixed in its sphere – 

So this is what it would be like if it were not here.

A reminder that we take for granted endless dusk and dawn.

But have we forgotten? It’s the stars that have been long gone.

--L.T.

Two Halves sketch

Bits & Pieces (& a poem)

Unfinished sketches - not my favorites, but alas...they get a pass here

guess that state!