at journeys end
you wonder about
the reasons
that caused you to fly away
in such a hurry
as if you were fleeing from some loathsome task
anxious to put it at your back
seeking peace, higher ground and greener pasture

now the pendulum has swung in it’s full arc
and you count the reasons why it’s good to be home
all the pleasant things that have happened in your life
since you landed here between the mountains and the placid ocean
after jet and the wicked tropo
and you realize that time has slowed down
in the blue light spectrum
after time had sped by in the red

you awake to find the brooding threat of winter has passed
storm clouds and dark days
no longer part of every waking moment
threatening to decapitate the horizon with razor winds
from the frozen north
heavy coats and other armor hang unused in the closets
waiting to be hidden away
as if you didn’t own them
and yet you know them well

sitting on a park bench in the warming spring sun
a cascade of pink rain fell upon your face and hair
cherry blossoms falling away from the stem as the north wind shifts to the west
the petals soft and sweet to the taste
your lover has been crowned with a halo of scented crushed velvet
your mind darts back to the day you married
and she wore a veil of fragrant flowers
that filled her hair
and she looked at you with such love today
her eyes
beset with a reflection of rose diamonds

the same vagrant breeze
blew through the window as you wrote
her a love song
lifting a curtains hem across the strings of your guitar
to strum a lilting tune
without measure or chord
as if nature had her own way of expressing herself musically
that set your mind in motion
such whimsy is so rare
that it captured your heart

at journeys end you find that your accidental plum tree has bloomed
the one that had grown magically
as if resurrected
you husband her with gentle touch
for she lacks a natural mate
there’s a stranger outside the gate
that will do
and as you introduce the pollen to the flying bee’s
who will cause the tree to bear fruit in the fall
you hear her sigh
like a virgin at your touch
the signal of your passing once again
through this cycle
into the next

you will in time
fear what is sure to come
sweeping south from the arctic
with a sharp winters scythe
ready yourself to fly
you are the object of it’s frozen capture

once again you seek
the object of your desire
a journeys end
so that you may sing again of your freedom
while the wind strums your guitar
that lilting song
the meter of your heart

  1. marj says:

    A captivating poem that matches that oh so lovely tree of your photo. I wish I’d be snowed upon by those flowers too someday. That would indeed be pretty sublime….Thanks for sharing, J West.

  2. i’m so glad you enjoyed the imagery…pleasure is where you find it 🙂

  3. thomaswrites says:

    Great imagery in the poem and beautiful picture of the blossom. The one bit I wasn’t too keen on was the ‘ooooooooooooo’ bit. Apart from that it was a good read.

    I arrived here by following a comment you made on one of today’s freshly pressed posts (part of that epidemic of photo-blogs that are so mediocre but seem to captivate the freshly pressed selection team) – a comment that was both critical and constructive – a nice change from the usual banal praise. Keep up the good work 🙂

    • thx for your compliment and critique. i may have to go back into my archive of plum tree orgasm sounds to better apply that experience to words on paper. I hate to sound overly erudite, contrived or derivative in my writing, and never correct my impulses , instead i write free form in this medium and as such am seldom perfect….instead i remain giddy at the prospect of spilling my guts in some accidental creation and finding the odd gem….after all…it’s just a blog……right? re: my critique of what i see, i only try to be honest and constructive, having taken many classes in photography…a person will never improve if they are only surrounded by ‘pleasers’. i have had the same two way conversations with people close to me about artistic work….( i’m surrounded by artists of all kinds and they’re generally a sympathetic erstwhile thin-skinned and bitchy lot) we must all accept a constructive critique from time to time from our peers.

  4. Angeline M says:

    A really good post and I thouroughlyenjoyed thomaswrites critique and your response. It does seem that it is so easy to click the “like” button and move on. I often wonder if I posted a really, really bad post if people would still click “like”…just because….i feel they would.

  5. akshitachandra says:

    Beautiful photograph and an interesting poem! I thoroughly enjoyed it!

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