Ron Koppelberger

 

Morning Songbird

Murmuring beyond the favor of harmonies in virtue,

In grumbles and prayers, chaste sensations

Of evocative divinity, a veil in fires of

Abandon, the mystery in reason rather than burdens

Aquiver with pleasure and bond, a quick tempered

Coffee in sweet sugary sips and smooth mooca waves

                       Of revelation, morning songbird soliloquies whispering to the faith of a new day.

Ron Koppelberger

Songbirds in Silhouette

Serenades in sweet cadence, captured by trifles

And tender loves in birthed delight,

In sprays of dandelion yellow, passing

In evanescent moments

Of aching affection

And wanton desire,

A twilight reverence in the mythic harmony

Of songbirds in silhouette,

Ron Koppelberger

Belfry Doves

Into the pause of reflection and storms of utter

Pretense, a careful secret in amusements

Of confession and possession, a nightingale

In sweet songs of contrition, ethereal in bonds

Of unimpeded bliss. The succulent morning-tide

Dew in gentle rolling beads of prismic allure,

Descried as the tears of belfry doves.

Ron Koppelberger

 

Phoenix Cascade

The wind in worry and tempest trial, a refreshing fare

In wild wishes and unhesitating favor,

The clandestined storm, the bear belonging,

Distant, dire and in flames of

Phoenix cascade, what’s made more by

The lines of pledged

Purpose and tumult, by the caress of flames in

Passion and embrace, by

The pyres built unto

The stars and the winds of fate.

Ron Koppelberger

Raven Song

In disarray, unfocused by the light of vagrant tatters

And ambiguous shreds of gossamer, the concealed pupil

Foraging in fame and antique souls of fire, the fringe of notions in bleak,

Bare profession and rare well bought realms of sadness, the undesirable

Conflict assembled by part and dollops of spirit, a pocket full of abandon

For the cares of living yield, a succinct moment of untied

Alliance Between moths and

                                                                           Raven song.

Ron Koppelberger

Shadowy Flight

Attained in chance and sanction, ravaged by

Rare satisfactions of backward trespass and

Entrance, precise, given in blows

Of distant walnut noise, cracking

In savory delight and shadowy flight.

A twilight nod, uneasy and in

Lilly-white amaranths

Of stone.

Ron Koppelberger

Wise Owls

Surveying the design of twilight fire and ashen coals

Of ebony enchantment, allied, forever in a moment

Of glowing sensation, a delicate balance of clever

Caste and black cat cries of pleasure, the vein of cinders and

Dusty blood, a faint discovery followed by the sayings of muses

And wise owls, by the will of nighttime awareness

And the flight of ancient pilgrims in

Concealed vestures, in silhouette and

Eternal beauty.

Ron Koppelberger

By the Birth of Roosters

Emerging in hesitant expectation of sunshine and dawn’s

Cool mist, guided by the birth of Roosters’ and babies

In real realms of consciousness and loving embrace,

By destiny and amber tuft, by the allowance of cries in nascent

Brilliance, the shape of betrothal unto the day, unto the will

                                                      Of laughter and barnyard bassinets‘.

Ron Koppelberger

 

Thrush in Flight

Unruffled by the awareness of creation in imaginable spoils

Of eventual shape and sustenance, furthered by the fateful worlds

Of frail, delicate suspicion, the extolled balance of humor

In overthrow of satisfying stagnant ponds and still

Resolve, the gift of prayer and evanescent light,

Held dear by the unrivaled perfection of thrush in flight,

In day by day penance unto the souls of unbroken mountain

Eagles, the silhouette of triumph allayed by the ascension

Of enduring rare spirit.

Ron Koppelberger

 

Hummingbird Chaste

A child in silken rhythms of sleeping escapade, the fires of

Bidden taboo, borne of sparrow song and wild

dancing daisies, the undulating twilight sky,

In seasons alight by the slow essence of cinnamon

In rue, of rolling musical confessions in wayfare wont

And calm times of worship, by the alters, we bend like reeds unto

The sashay of singing larks daubed in the

Sugars of hummingbird chaste.

Ron Koppelberger

 

The Way of The Raven

Looking to the last lane, the passable journey unto

The wood, into the copse of wavering

Secret and what’s given magic by the need

For mystery and secret dreams, well-borne by

Ancestry and divisions of

Ghostly pale spectators, a destiny gone to the wolves

                                                               And the way of the raven.

Ron Koppelberger

Feathered Nights

Squawky, squabble and feathered nights,

A pretense in havens naught and the moons pallid

Glow, the blood drenched blossoms nectar,

Told to be magic, by the wont of a

Deeply frazzled fear and a shallow wealth

Of shadow, the wish of grim ghosts

In aching desires of life.

Ron Koppelberger

 

Ravens Wings

Cousins shuttered by the full bloom of

Moon blossoms and night shade smiles,

The radiating shadow realm of dabbling dusk

And the eclipsed illusion of glaring confusion,

Disengaged delirium for the clarity of an evening

Sun and an inky umbra of rare wonder, by the shine

On a Ravens wings and the embers

                                                                        Of eternity.