Japanese Garden On A Warm December Night

Poem By Hugh Cobb

Late December night
unseasonal, almost balmy
I step into the small Japanese Garden
in the center of three buildings:
this is the locus, the point which
pins brick to its substance
anchoring this place to the world...

I stand here & breathe night air,
allow darkness to embrace me
secret lover enfolding me
bringing me to a point of stillness
where even held breath could
shatter silence, cause the very stars
to blink out, one-by-one
leaving darkness so total
it must be my own...

In this numinous state
imagination's so vivid, so complete
I can see a stream running
beneath the small wooden bridge
defining this gentle, reflective space.

For a moment, I can forget reality’s hard truth:
Bridge covers a storm drain,
its charm accidental, by-product of function
- dispersing rain water, rushing river,
Into pipes - keeping property safe & dry,

Garden pristine in starlight;
caught in my lover's spell,
I allow practicality
to disperse, water down pipes.
Surrendering to silent darkness,
I hear only the mutable sussuration
of water rushing over smooth stones.

(Copyright 12/28/2005)

Comments about Japanese Garden On A Warm December Night

I'm fascinated with anything Japanese.. I really enjoyed this. Red
Quite a splendid piece of work. Reminiscent of a garden of a friend's in NOLA, right off the Quarter. Once inside the gate, the world disappeared and only the trees and birds and grass and fountain existed. I found it hard at the end of the evening to be led from that spot. It was like I would imagine Heaven's gardens to be. Rita
This is a wonderful poem to read. The imagery is great. You are incredibly talented, and I look foward to reading more of your poems
This is wonderful, Hugh. There is a garden just like this right in the middle of Los Angeles, hidden away behind tall buildings. A treasure, like your poem.
I've never been in a Japanese garden Hugh but you certainly make me want to visit one! This is beautiful. Sincerely, Mary

4,6 out of 5
9 total ratings

Other poems of COBB

Heart's Song, The Inadequacy Of Words

How can I express the inexpressible?
Paint with words a portrait of my heart
when I think of you -
Not the pulsing muscle

A Poem To Honor St. Valentine

If youth could age's wisdom ken,
& age could know youth's fire again
or age could Old Time's hands turn back
T'would then be youth with time to spend

From A Window

The window presents a view:
various shades of verdancy;
bright yellow green to deepest pines
& a thousand tones in between.

Aneurysm Or The Bubble's Burst

Pain & pressure in my head
intense, almost unbearable
gives warning soon I might be dead...
(A condition quite past care-able.)

Embracing Persephone

Your icy reign almost an end,
stolen bride prepares her return to light.