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Sunday, January 16, 2011

A Poem for Fairbanks, Alaska


Ode to Icabard
Icabard, Oh Icabard,
Alas comes your summer salute,
to thy Heaven’s keeper,
choreographed perfection never at vain.
As tentacle like sun rays burst downward,
so stealth like.
Through angel pure cloud coverage,
engulfing your trials,
like a blessing deserved.
In honor your endless tribulations on high.
All the while, your seasonal endeavors,
place to shame,
our ways and means.
A society at wits end,
so imbecile in comparison.
Why are you gifted so differently?
And so patiently proud?
With sky leaps no bounds,
entertaining your mood.
You ascend to transcend,
then gracefully descend.
And rewarding those efforts?
Fertile lands here,
Fertile lands there.
Here and there for your taking.
Great strides your dedication,
to survive, a love of life in flight.
Summertime at the fields of freedom
and the living is easy.
The harmony of your content;
I hear so clear, from a distance.
As the sun fades away.

Great flocks, your own like others, converge.
To protect the right of way.
To protect the night away.
Championed by a midnight sun wary.
Under cover of light, all day long it seems.
So make my day again!
Like yesterday, and time before;
and take to flight,
with all your might,
show off!
As you go your way, I try to find my way.
But what choice is mine over yours?
With thou, be it may the Tanana mat.
Or maybe the Crammer flat.
Whatever your way,
Serenity and Peace be with you.
It is, so empowered and perfected.
As the Creator hails heavenly wealth the species.
As seen in such flights.
As seen at your playing fields,
in the intimacy of family affairs.
Yet my vantage point,
it can sabotage your privacy.
Stealth like, I watch your behavior.
Stealth like I enjoy your behavior.
And now pray tell,
my surroundings bring meaning,
Even with the loss,
as you prepare to depart.

Why you must leave? I ponder.
It weakens my tranquility,
my serenity.
Not for me lonely, but others alike,
who have taken on similar peacefulness your presence.
As familiar smiles once upon a time,
take on a nasty disguise,
Fake artists we thrive, in our imbecilic confinements.
Except for these moments, as no walls surround this high!

And I have reason to celebrate your arrival.
And I have reason to celebrate your stay.
And I have reason to celebrate your exit.
As by now, other signs award the reality of nature so matured.
And Nature's stage, is not it perpetual over perceptual?
So with Hedge maze and Wooding Garden.
Lind Garden or Dye.
I find cover, enforcing peace, with serenity,
So what if short lived this tranquility.
As here now, it appears my reality is so far and removed,
away from that corrupt society of imbeciles.
Yet just over yonder,
the highway man calls!
And so does the Railroad man,
as “he drinks up blood like wine”!
But least you care, dear Icabard.
Oh Crane, pardon me!
as I give away your identity.
From a distance. Be brave, you are.
Yet when thou abandons thy nest of rest;
All is not lost, yet.
As with my release upon your attention and addiction,
I find reason to rejoice,
free again,
with a laugh.
To release the grip of a friendship,
following your departure.
As what this means finds no puzzle in realism.
So retreat I will also,
to enjoy what remains,
upon this stage so natural.
As upon Icabard’s intent, to withdraw,
it speaks well with meaning.
All good things find that end!

This departure,
by now curtains raised.
Upon that stage t'is the season,
such undivided grandeur soon to pass.
As Icabard has signaled the news,
a warning chills the air!
Here today, gone tomorrow, why rejoice?
Because!
The great escape begins on high.
But nay to forget, I have my ways.
My escape away from reality,
void that corrupt society,
still imbecile-socialistic;
Missing my brother, can you spare a dime,
While stealing time away from time!
So not that now, my natural friend.
As colatitude,
With collateral,
gives
meaning this day:
Viola, Amber Kiss by an Angel.
Lemon mummed silent,
by the Court jester.
Livingston Daisy I presume!
Laughter is still thy best medicine!
Terra Catta Shades hold back the end.
Telstar White,
Tequila Mix,
Blue Sprite,
Madness Red Morn it is.
Danish Flag so proud,
summer's ending announced!
Charity Rose Red,
a real wall flower,
And why?
For Painted Tongues and Autumn Lollipops.
For Isabellina,
for Queen Victoria.
My Red Castle Russell.

Nature’s way some more, at its best showdown.
Summer’s ending I repeat to myself,
And retreat with my court's jester:
So what!
Precedence set.
As to fret, that's an impostor emotion.
Autumn soon, beckons the call,
blessed is the great crane’s escape!
Oh Icabard, always the free way, isn’t it?
But your friendship shared, now spared,
from this retreat north,
it brings warmth with joy,
we all salute.
Thus to cherish your company,
a daunting loss soon to be realized,
It affords goodwill, with courage,
to covert my disrespectful society!
Making the coming winter,
affordable my survival!.
And your return will so exonerate,
once upon a time once again!

This poem dedicated to the Georgeson Botanical Gardens for the peace and serenity it offers humans when in summer the cranes and songbirds take to flight, a pilgrimage of grandeur, all upon a background made possible by humans, naturalists, the earth's unselfish caretakers, as this place remains a shrine, in efforts upon adoration His Majesty's creation, nature in its best mood.
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