Crystal Key…

all password is your everloving language:
crystal key to unheard music-heights…
I know you…and your lively spirit’s sweetlights
make me see each purple distance
as an April park…a dancing-floor
a forest in November…

we remember where we wandered
how we wondered finding flowers
twixt the farthest fjords of no man’s land
my hand in yours, your smile my home…
our fairy lifelines measured
long the velvet dome of heaven…
violet ribbons sparked with rubies
diamonds…stars…

all clockwork is your everloving soul
staying with it…with this time
that shan’t predict us any ending…
as I know you’re bending mountainstreams
around for us to bathe in, rhyming fountains
springs and creeks to cool our skins…
withershins, my angel…simply withershins…

and we are ripening on branches
even broken ones and twigs…yes…
those that blossom and bear fruits
from deep within…
whisp’ring babyseeds and catkins
fusing years in silent notions
having holy aerial rootlets
laying tenderest emotions
o’er our dream’s translucency…

and we…we tell each other miracles…
all password is our everloving language
crystal key to you and me…
to cosmic atmospheres, to God’s infinity…

Najade
© Drs. Rikki Keller
Thursday, 13 March 2008

Lifeline…

smokecurls whirling up from dozing farms
the silver silence of a little baby's breath…
a tiny suckling in my ten'drest guarding arms
no roof, no room, no window and no bed…
approaching dawn a hesitating red…

I think of ages, ages passed…
of fleeing partisans and popes
of wars & wonders, people blessed
and others hung on lethal ropes…

I watch the Frisians and the Franks
the jaden shallows and the moors…
the wet and wholesome riverbanks
the softly cracking homesteaddoors…

I see my ancestors arriving from a'far
my virgin mothers of the alps…
they may have followed just one star
above their mountain's snowy scalps…

now I'm a child, alone with mine
embraced by New Yorks naked bricks
yet I still sense one lucid line…
one clock that turns and turns and ticks…

where could we go, where would we end
this humble newborn life and I…?
we came, we fought, we weren't sent
just our dear God, just God knows why…

Najade

© Drs. Rikki Keller 2007

Ballad…

oh…not a word…not yet, not yet…
there’s just this shy forgotten stream

for which I try to find a bed

a jaden reed-marsh and a ferry…

– Charon’s soalboat it might be

right from an ancient yellowed picture –

to besail the solemn silence

and the shive’ring silver sheen…

oh…not a word…not yet, not yet…

and I have been here for so long…

there’s just this ever tender windsong

this aubade of summerdawn, for which

I’d love to find a willow and some wattle

to rejoice in – from your bushland

it might be – a crown of blossom

and the mellow breath of May…

oh…not a word…not yet, not yet…

and I have flown so far astray…

there’s just this whisp’ring veil

of night-rain o’er the dozing riverclay

from which I try to model butterflies

and dainty little flowers, while the hours

of all ages pass me by…lucid cloudlets

in an airless opal sky…
                              

oh…not a word…not yet, not yet…

there’s just this shy forgotten stream

by which an old man ’s kneeling down

to view his life, to drink and dream…

he knows my name, he knows my face

he knows my spirit and my grace…

– a fairy figure I might be –

one that’ll always, always light his days…

Aquarelle:

© Drs. Rikki Keller 2007