I Walk Along the Edge

Kim Loftis Photography, https://www.facebook.com/kim.a.loftis

 I walk along the edge alone,
    the margins of the deep inflamed with sun-toned splendor,
    the sky above engulfed in radiant spangled light,
        as night met day or day met night,
        when light and color fought with dark—
        implanting hope and awe and, Hark!
       
            My soul now soars on silent wings,
               with shock and reverence, esteem and fear,
               I loose the heavy band of earth that clings
                  and claws and draws and paws me to its blear,
                     its drear and smear and blinded gear
                     that threatens tear and and jeer and empty sphere.
            Now overhead I soar with upward swing
                and view the joy that heaven brings:
                I see a city there above the clouds
                   shining bright, shining proud,
                while earth-bound denizens lie cowed
                    and bowed and plowed,
                              with no lofty thoughts endowed,
                    tenuous life all soon to disappear.

But I walk along the edge alone:
    the margins of the deep call out to me,
    the sky breathes down its majesty
        and light meets dark or night meets day—
        forces in my heart at play—
        when bright comes forth to vanquish dark,
        inflicting joy and lasting mark.

I on the edge of deep look up and know
   the unseen forces up above,
though barely sensed down here below,
   still shower light down, sent in love.

- D. Benning

The Road Rolled Out Before Me

South Bank at Humber, by N J Lunn Photography

The road rolled out before me,
  the blue sky decked with clouds,
The green, green earth a-fore me,
  as I race my cycle proud!

Down the lane and past old trees,
  down the vacant roadway passage;
Distant birds sang loud whilst the breeze
  whispered me its message.
 
       Down, down, down...
         slow, slow, slow...
            turn, turn turn...
                listen to the heartbeat.
        
The heartbeat!
  Yes, I know that sure;
     I know the calling of my heartbeat.
The call of long
  forgotten roads
     and a longing that would entreat!

Ah, yes, here I ride, and here I wend,
   and here I joy with rapture;
And here I ride and here I bend
    my heart to nature captured!

- D. Benning

A Rock, A Stone, A Pebble

A rock,
  a stone,
     from mountain broken
carried down by gravity and time
  —and chance!—yes, always chance—

For there upon your lofty perch
   while viewed you hills and woods and life beneath you
   and overhead the starry nights
                  and sun-spangled-days
                  with clouds and wind
                  and ice and sprays
   turned ever on their dial
       for many long ages and a while
   until you cracked and splintered from your high-topped perch;
       you started, slumped and lurched
       before you tumbled, rumbled, stumbled—
       yes! and dashed and crashed and smashed
           down the incline
                         to your eventual decline
   where you rested before chance brought you lower still—
       lower than the hill under gray of night and fog that chilled
            you to the ambient temperature
                                 of mud
                                     and clay
                            and water, dirt and spray;
    and ocean's happiness was to pound you hard with billowy wave,
         like ruffian knave
             a beating gave
                and ensconced you within
                    a sandy grave
    where time and toil
       —and chance!—yes, always chance—
    left your jagged angularity muted by the restless flow
        and softened edges, rounded now, new-spun shape from beauty's brow,
    now polished, honed and smoothed
       —by quiet waves now soothed—
I pick you up and contemplate your form,
    your beauty and your troubled past.
Gone are the perils and waves and storms,
    all that's left of your tumults vast
               are the polished edges of your grace
                   and elegance, and artistry and comeliness.
It was not chance, though, that brought you here,
    but God, the artist, working to endear:
So now, no mere stone on lofty height,
  but polished pebble of my own delight.

- D. Benning

Thus the Sun

Thus the sun sat slowly in the far west
  Dipping down below the rim;
Cloudless sky crowns glowing crest
  As daylight drops and starts to dim.
 
Far horizon greets the sunset,
  Nearby river whispers grace;
Trees before assess their deep debt
  As sun rushes off in splendid race.

- D. Benning

Kim Loftis, https://www.facebook.com/kim.a.loftis

Owl at Blue Cypress Lake

Yes, I see your vain intrusions
  Peering at my lofty perch;
Think you'd be a master of illusions
  Avoiding me within the woods and birch?
 
Yes, I see all that you do down there before me,
  Fluttering in your carpet of din;
But I sit up here in my own tree
  And laugh at all you do therein.

- D. Benning

Photo by Gisele Roy, https://www.facebook.com/gisele.roy.750

Biloxi Beach

The sky erupted in fiery clouds—
With sun then setting in splendid light.
The dark encroaching with its fingers proud,
And daylight surrendered to the coming night!

- D. Benning

Biloxi Beach - Schooner pier Sunset by Don Young, https://www.facebook.com/shutterbay?hc_ref=NEWSFEED&fref=nf

Cypress At Sunset

With parting glance
   and somber nod,
   The sun retired unto its room;
The closing night
   with shadows close,
   Demurely bowed ere spreading gloom.

- D. Benning

Cypress at Sunset by Christine Duhon,  https://www.facebook.com/christine.duhon.39

Sunset on the Kanawha

Patrick Street Bridge, Charleston West Virginia, photographer by Kevin Jack, https://www.kevinjackphotography.com/

The darkening clouds,
   midst fiery skies,
with lengthening shadows,
   the daylight dies.
Yet mirrored in quiet waters
   as an echo from the day,
Caught on the river as polished brass,
   undaunted by encroaching gray.
And slung between the halves
   a bridge connecting truth:
left to right, and sky to land,
   with mem'ries from my youth.

- D. Benning

Kanawha River, Charleston West Virginia, photographed by Kevin Jack, https://www.kevinjackphotography.com/

See also his facebook page.

The Light!

The Light!
The piercing eye of the sun
   as it slowly descends into the sea
The colored mantle that it spreads
   above as if gathering a blanket before going down to sleep.

The Light!  The Light!
The golden glow of coming night!
   It warms the heart and calms the mind
As if in preparation to the coming dark and cold,
   a gentle kiss and promise of tomorrow!

- D. Benning

Photo by Don Young, Shutter Bay Photography,
https://www.facebook.com/shutterbayphotography/

The Beauty of a Rainfall

The beauty of rainfall at mid day drops
   like the gentle sounds of a pot boiling in another room;
   like a soft, caressing press
         of an ambient gray sonnet soundscape squeezed into a green painting,
         of blue sky crushed into gray and seasoned with sunlight's kiss.









The sky of a rainfall at mid day glimmers with
   a glowing moistness beneath lowering, frowning clouds;
   a shining radiance on the cusp of coming brightness;
   a gathering darkness that breaks like the cry no longer able to be contained.










The passing of a rainfall at mid day leaves behind
   the stunning blue of a well-watered, weathered sky;
   the soggy soil slowing impatient bustle and hurry;
   the shimmering puddles reflecting parting clouds riding across watery trails;

        And my heart washed from cares—if only for a moment—
            while listening to the rain which at mid day falls.

- D. Benning