Flashbacks From a Roller Coaster Ride. Austen Barnes
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ICE MAIDEN
Ice,-
tough,
hard,
cold.
The shrouded shell
of atrophied personality;
the grim facade
of sometime riches fallen in a well.
Ice,-
pure,
crystal,
compacted.
Frozen tears
of disappointments' bout
transparent yet obdurate;
immune to pick and probe
of sharpened wit or warmth without.
Ice,-
beware,
bewildering
barrier
of spirits flight;
filterer of thought
and dampener of psyche,
your blanket dims
the brightest light.
Ice,-
tasteless,
blue,
bleak.
Pour weak from warmth within;
turn fast to water
ere the dance be done,
before the heart cools
and the pulse is thin.
Accursed ice,-
bedamned,
bedevilled,
begone!
Your time is come
for still the world is young
and nature's kind
for springs' begun.
DONUTS
Gleaming, glazed, precise,
the immaculate rows of cultured donuts
reflect the crystal glow
of polished glass and lustrous stainless steel -
the perfected prism; the proven franchise magic mix -
converging all to inevitable success.
The formula defines all aspects
of the structured layers of support -
to move the short lived product
from mix to oven to shelf to tray, and hand to mouth
for those who choose to pause and think, drink,
and be merry for a brief instant, with a donut -
in hurried breaks from fast lanes of our time.
Almond eyed, sometimes the dragon-cat; the mini hostess,
brusque and bold, and cold, snatches money from the proffered hand
as quick as claw, the pretty gaze ablaze
in discontent as sterile as the the stainless,
and foreign to the color tones of warmth;
contrasting nurtured smell of welcome coffee;
a slipping cleft of hidden lifequake yet to come.
By the window sit the couple; elderly worn,
gazing wistfully at the bustling street,
sipping on their memories of slower times
and elegance of manners past;
numbed still from jobless misery, war, and peace precarious -
yet grateful of the giant leap of time
that war itself is near passe; as obsolete as chivalry.
How little worry now, they thought;
if only we can handle waste and wanton hate;
and not get sick with ails, but even those dissolve
- likely after we are gone.
Gently they rise, poised for re-entry together,
mutually aware, an aura of support
in a non supportive capsule world of detached freedom.
She gathers the cups and plates onto the tray and he carries them,
slowly, carefully to the counter; gently pushing them toward the mini-hostess -
they both smiled, and made their pained way to the door, opened it,
as the noise rushed in; they enter the outside bravely,
quickly, like jumping into a high wave, and strike out strongly,
back in the swim with mayhem.
The almond eyes follow, fill, and soften in admiration;
the tense mini frame loosens, and becomes a girl.
The rosy afterglow of the couple pervades,
briefly all is in harmony with the warm welcoming, immaculate,
brown tone tiled floor, of the coffee and donut store.
WIDOWER
We danced our dance so well,
we did the most we could
with time we had, and more;
by effort gained and some by chance
around the crystal we would go
like phantoms in a magic box,
twirling friendly shapes on those around
dancing to the tunes we knew so well,
calling them in sequence as we sent
our future music on its merry
way to us, to fuel our feelings
for the dances yet to come.
We danced our dance so well
we did the best we dare
with what was there, and more
until the dance was done -
we had our fun
and we had won our future,
tickets for the tunes to come,
but stern the piper called
and played no more-
said one of us must leave the floor
forever, and you were taken, crying
to a more important place
in a coach I couldn't follow.
I was left to find another-
waiting lonely in a corner
seeking solace and a partner
for the final taste of music
when the piper plays