Robert Karaszi




 

The Art of Chrysanthemums
 

We swing like silk or snow
swept over mesa flats.

 
Though in the pith of fall,
leaves twitch red
through the eddy, at eventide.

 
We sit long-sleeved in a river house
mull over music
 
that warms
ice creatures.

 
Today I raked a melody
with syllables culled from your lips.
But I miss you when you gather

 
chrysanthemums each morning;
and on return,
float their painted tongues
in glass bowls.

 
Chrysanthemums round patio light
remind me of our first autumn,
when you held my glove
in the Venus noon.

 
Darling. This garden is art, verged on the obsessive
but I heed the artistry in your labors,
I hold them dear, their desires unafraid to conjure wings
that they may conjure flight.

 
Upon twisting your wrist, caught
 
in the spindrift of creation,
you could no longer heave soil to stack.

 
I tended fresh earth in delicious seclusion,
and laced your pond with chrysanthemum gold.

 
So come! Meet me under ribboned white
where autumn hovers, and the sun sidles near-
as the murmurs of our harmonies hold.




Copyright    2014 Robert Karaszi

 
Robert Karaszi worked as a lyricist/songwriter for an independent record label
in 1990, where he also freelanced as a writer for upcoming artists. His poetry has
appeared in The Tower Journal, Straylight Magazine, Conclave: A Journal Of Character and is forthcoming in various print and online publications. Currently he resides in New Jersey and stays active with poetry readings and related events.