14, caesura 8th
12 caesura 6th
Balcars form with
Alexandrine.
.....
Within the deep meadow, a valley of lillies,
Forest flowers and grass, under the green hills,
In the apple orchards, near my old cottage home,
.....
Tending to homes harvest, for apple pies and juice,
The rough soils and bark, the dark peat in my skin,
Trapped within my rough grooves, a figure of hard clay,
.....
Scents of the sweet wild, dirt and many flowers,
The gusty winds, the storm; flowers sail through me,
Flowery scents rise up, over the valley hills,
.....
Arriving home to sit, gathering thoughts on my porch,
While you come out to see, with a fine cup of tea,
Your form nests in my space, while you inspect my hands,
Caressing my deep lines, following my rough fate,
Sweet scents of the valley, they do remain here,
You breathe my life soil, embracing rough scent,
.....
How the rustled leaves stayed, shimmer of copper hues,
Even the winds could not break free, those that rested with me,
Trapped in my clothing and my heart, the scent of the winds roamed,
So in the valley near the sea, is where i always settled,
Under the universe of stars, beneath the moon that shines,
The oak trees forever stayed, watching me age through time,
.....
Always infinite in your heart, fallen in your soft lap,
My love that is always here, ghosts in the Winter,
When all soft things have come to pass, your river flows through me,
.....
When the leaves fall, and scent changes, your perfume rests in me,
When all my rough sure strenght is spent, your ship sails to me,
When all the flowers wash to sea, my ship is still anchored,
Even in my demise, the silver moon still moved.
.....
There shall never be a night day, immortal ghosts we are,
Through the rivers of your warm soul, your tune is a bird song,
And so this infinite tale, is why the Owl just hoots.

Poem designed by
© balcar