A lake far away in the distance
Covered by the foggy haze
In an endless reverie
On a quiet, cold winter's sleep

The dry fallen leaves
Of the bare dampened trees
Shiver in the December breeze
As the clouds veer off into the valley

The flowers shrivel like paper on fire
As the wind walks slow
Through the maple, oak, and pine
Sculpted in ice and snow

Landscapes that were once willows
Where owls sported for prey at night
Are now drenched in blue and white
For as far as the azure lake goes

The cold harsh winters broke my horses
That coursed the winding paths with fury
Trudging against the unseen forces
In the depths of the blanched scenery

I gazed at them helpless
Watching them writhe in agony
Attacking the soil as they gasped their last breaths
My young fawn friends were covered with canvas

For a while, I forgot what time of day it was
Yet I decided to walk into the wild
With the blood-stained canvas
Fresh in my mind

With every path I walked or tried out
My boots deepened in the thick swamp
Yet, I'd always circle back to that spot
More in doubt as the mire went on

Such was the depth of the forest
That I started marking the stones
Studding the depths of the earth
Where frescoed brooks once flowed

I struggled under my own weight
A dying thirst overcame me
As I inched closer to blinding rage
I crunched the snow with chattering teeth

Gazing at the concentric eddies of ice
That coursed through the undergrowth
Those glacial sheets frozen in time
Had turned to unbreakable stone

It was transparent
Revealing below the endless water
Being this near to the end
I felt a calm surrender

I looked deep inside
Without struggle nor strife
I jumped off the ravine
And my life flashed before my eyes

As I darted into the undergrowth
An elk came from behind
Hidden in a lair of fog and shadow
Walking on the sheet of ice

My heart pounded inside
My broken frame had survived
I knew I'd walked too many miles
To die

As I descended freely
I fell into spirals of warm water
And I could hear rushing streams
That echoed out into the ether

I was so tired and lost
So I only have a faint memory
Of the elk with its antlers carved in white frost
Carrying my frail body

Out of the bowers
Into a willowy veil
I still visit the shore covered by the hoary flowers
And listen to the whispering gale

I walked on little by little
With the brittle leaves cracking under my feet
To greener pastures
Forgetting the miracle

Time has filled many an hourglass since then
Yet as I watch an individual grain of sand fall
And I think upon the elk of that forest
That emerged from the dense fog

I realize that the moment is lost
And every day is still a test
While I could have moved on
It is the feeling I hold dearest

Slow down
If you don't know me
By now
And carry all your burdens around

Take my hand
And place it by your heart
Let me feel the way it softly
Breaks apart

Close your eyes
And drift away into my arms
Sleep till the breaking dawn
Let me whisper goodbye

So hear me once before you cry
Tell me if you're going to be fine
And tell me all your sorrows
As the light breaks for the night

We stare at the clock
As the ticking stops
And see how the years
Go by so quickly now

A tired memory
I realised I can't let go off

We arrive in this world alone, we depart this world alone. This time called life was meant to share.

Love is one of the most powerful energies in the world: it drives us forward: gives us purpose ; and adds meaning where it sometimes seemed none existed.

In its extremes it is either a fountain of the most soaring euphoria and ecstasy: or where it is lost, blocked, or turned away, a bottomless well of despair, pain and profound despondency.

In between the extremes are the smaller moments, laughter shared, tears shed and wiped away, fears soothed.

I look at this all-pervading emotion in hopes of finding  the motivation and object of my poetry and art.

I look at you and know me better, for much of what I am is made of you.

All the shades of love are summoned and celebrated in my work.
                                                                                               Jon York  2025

Most women
Want to stab me in the back
But she didn't
She was just confused
The moment she held the knife
The world went quiet
Her heart throbbed a little
Better to take the pain
Than to take a life
Right?

We talk about the
past like it's a
movie we
watched together.
You liked the
cinematography.
I didn't care for the
cruelty of the
protagonist.

We disagree on the
theme, and every
scene holds different
aspects of
symbolism for us.
I'm not sure I want
there to be a sequel,
despite the good
acting.

rearrange.

fail flee feel

that! feels more write.

we fail at 90% of out endeavors;

we flee to the recesses
and the excesses;

we feel, most keenly,
our sense of loss,
and yet the inner linings of our
cells, once more greet a Sun-day that marks a mild fresh-ness and our involuntary ****** muscles bend
intro to a small smile,
and once more,

we breach the day with right hooks of positivity, warmth, music, and begin  to
remember  to
    feel feelings, assorted,
and we minutely reborn and the fluids of birthing are wiped away

and coffee seals the deal...and a hopeful day begins and forgiveness
and forgetting is the clean start clothes we dress ourselves within,
and with out, comfy jeans, well worn raggedy t shirt that you refuse to obey, expressly forbid her

to descard,
(not a rypo).
and you annoy her
with twenty kisses,
cause you don't want to spoil her,,,
too much