Julie Kovacs

Garden of Stained Glass

That gray cloudy sky turned to pink

as you stared past the stained glass frame

of your childhood on weekends.

Only the fruit on the orange tree remained

jasmine replaced the dingy sneaker smell

after each romp through the woods.

But now nothing is left to worry over

not even the sour milk

that was left sitting on the counter

the cat did not even bother to drink.

Instead of your arms being covered in dirt

they now wore bands of gold

gold for today

gold for tomorrow

gold for eternity

eternity passed into tomorrow and today.

..............................................

One Way Ticket to Paradise

Sitting in the car late that steamy summer night

a mysterious light shone up ahead

dirt road wide enough for one car suddenly appeared

a parting of the trees by a hoot owl named Moses

I sat up in the passenger seat brushing off empty

hot dog and French fry containers

half empty soda cups

were far from being the end of our nightly picnic

when all of a sudden that lone single light

split into two then three, showing colors of a traffic signal.

You seemed amazed as if we stepped into a magical

fairy land where only the wolves came out at night

to howl and people slept soundly with the television set left on.

Not quite in a trance you turned on the ignition and started driving,

following the lights that danced farther down the path right in front of us.

Fireflies they were as I peered close to the windshield

the moonlight guided us into a realm never before seen by

anyone on this side of the earth's veil.

Winding up through hills the car climbed slowly

with the occasional tree root being felt under the tire

once at the top then we slowly went downhill past

the shadows of oaks and maples that danced in the wind

the only comfort I felt from your hand reaching over to

touch my left shoulder, unsure of where we would be taken

and if we would return home safely.

At the bottom of the trail I could see the rising sun in the rear view mirror

blood red against the still dark night

no bats coming to fly towards us nor fear of the unknown

just a blanket of warmth from the honeysuckle air

entering through the open car windows

and the vision of cherry blossom, jacaranda, and floss silk trees

deck out the emerald green landscape

with the sun smiling down

a lake of sparkling diamonds on the surface

nobody else present except seabirds to welcome us home.

..........................

Welcome, Death

Empty faces float around the deserted carnival

seeking a special one of their own kind

a young sixteen year-old girl

who had no desire to die under the maple tree

as the birds sang in the sunlight.

Ticker tape ribbons swirled

at her last birthday celebration

cascading over the forgotten graveyard

where only one headstone

chipped and broken lay

the winged skull upon it

eyeless and restlessly wandering

for its doe-like mistress

seeking a cool drink of life

from a pebble-bottomed brook

only to be startled

gaze upward at

a white face of death.

 

Julie Kovacs lives in Venice, Florida. Her poetry has been published in Children Churches and Daddies, Because We Write, Illogical Muse, Poems Niederngasse, Aquapolis, The Blotter, Danse Macabre, Silver Blade, The Camel Saloon, Falling Star, Blue and Yellow Dog, Veil, Moria, Nether, and Cherry Bleeds. She is the author of two poetry books: Silver Moonbeams, and The Emerald Grail. Her website is at http://thebiographicalpoet.blogspot.com/