Night grieving

In the shuttered rooms of dreaming night
the phantoms walk on light, unsteady, silent feet,
bare touch upon the polished timbered floor of dreams,
reminding heart that they no longer stand,
in worlds material where feel and touch still meet.

With tears unbidden falling onto darkened cheek,
the pain of loss is spoken without words,
and hidden in the guts of birthing, omnipresent dawn,
are memories which beat with small, dry hands,
upon the wall of distance; bitter curse.

For when we love and lose what we have known,
and hold to mourning mind the image cast,
of someone who has entered, made sure place within,
then carved upon Soul's lintel is that name,
forever cut, fine-edged by grief to last.

It is as if the brightness pushes out of ready sight,
reminders of the one that has been lost,
and guards against reflecting, mirrored march of thought,
protects through daylight hours against that world,
where razor edge has not been polished soft.

Natural world

NIGHT

The night in settled shadows breathed

beside my bed and then,

in captured arms of morning light,

transformed herself again.

In rustled shake of darkened robes,

she crept through cornered hours,

and breathed herself ephemeral;

through day's long shining rule.

Autumn solitude

Laughter eloquent as leaf,
in golden, shimmer shudders,
to dress the sky so briefly;
and haunt the soil in time.
These offerings of Autumn
hang lightly in the air,
and dance decay's becoming;
twixt life and death ensnared.
Each one is born in solitude,
and dies alone at last,
in crumbling drifts eternal;
from tree to waiting earth.

The storm

In roiling, rampant clustering

The black clouds cawl the sky

And render daylight subjugate,

To lightning, thunder, rain.

The demon dance diminishes

The power of sun to shine,

And holds the elements in hand

Through drenching, roaring ride.

AFRICAN HEAT

Heat shuffles through
the hidden cracks,
and sulks in fervent
corners, and then is drawn
in shivered waves through
endless turns of fans.

Here’s the prompt. Write one (or a few) simple poems about your natural environment. We suggest you keep poems to 2 - 6 lines (each). Simple direct observation is important here. Refrain from trying to make your poem mean something more than what it observes.
http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/2013/07/04/prompt-164-listening/#respond

Time is so illusory

Time is so illusory,
ephemeral and light,
and yet it holds
with heavy hands,
my deep, eternal night.
It's in the darkness
of the day, that
I can call and find,
a greater weight
within the hours;
hangs heavy on
my mind.