Array ( [sid] => 145492 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Rendezvous in Ramah [time] => 2008-10-02 22:35:33 [hometext] => Happy 25th, Ken and Marti - here's to the next 25! [bodytext] =>




Two States across the Southwest
and my phone is fading fast;
I need to conjure Dharma
before the moment’s past.
the saguaro trees are trembling in
the shimmering midday heat;
their flowers are so beautiful
and the fruit is always sweet.

Deep into an enchanted land
Four Corners now long gone;
sweat beads upon my brow
the afternoon forlorn.
the pueblo folk are inscrutable
their features laced with time;
stone monuments are humbling
as I search for any sign.

I drive by intuition, like
an eagle on the wing;
the roads no longer posted
as the winds commence to sing.
the azure skies turn purple
as I find and lose my way;
the sun a reddening postscript
to a long and mile-swept day.

Still miles out of Ramah
the world is ebon blind;
jackrabbits tempt the bumper
but can’t make up their minds.
the gas is all but vapours
the night of music gone;
the road a treacherous rock slide,
but I’ll drive until I’m done. [comments] => 7 [counter] => 393 [topic] => 9 [informant] => spike [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 15 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => AnniversaryPoems ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Rendezvous in Ramah


Rendezvous in Ramah
Date: Thursday, 2nd October 2008 @ 10:35:33 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: spike





Two States across the Southwest
and my phone is fading fast;
I need to conjure Dharma
before the moment’s past.
the saguaro trees are trembling in
the shimmering midday heat;
their flowers are so beautiful
and the fruit is always sweet.

Deep into an enchanted land
Four Corners now long gone;
sweat beads upon my brow
the afternoon forlorn.
the pueblo folk are inscrutable
their features laced with time;
stone monuments are humbling
as I search for any sign.

I drive by intuition, like
an eagle on the wing;
the roads no longer posted
as the winds commence to sing.
the azure skies turn purple
as I find and lose my way;
the sun a reddening postscript
to a long and mile-swept day.

Still miles out of Ramah
the world is ebon blind;
jackrabbits tempt the bumper
but can’t make up their minds.
the gas is all but vapours
the night of music gone;
the road a treacherous rock slide,
but I’ll drive until I’m done.

This poem is Copyright © spike


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