Monday, August 29, 2011

Nature's Tome...

Mist covered lawn, a blanket of grey
as the fog curls and swirls i make my way
twixt and tween branches
grabbing at my clothes and hair
to follow a game trail seen disappearing
into the woods...

just beyond the parking lot,
beneath towers humming with electricity,
lies wooded acres and few takers
to this hidden treasure
I have measured hill and dale,
walked alone, following trails
made by four feet, not two
Such a simple thing to do
if you listen,
if you look,
if you peer over the book
to see the wonders of which you read
in the first person singular
Words are wonders, words inspire
but eyes that see are all you truly require...

Duck Pond...

If persistence is the key,
then i have the patience of a saint
for resistance can fade in the face
of serendipitious occurences, cosmic coincidences
and sly inferences made from people you meet...
For it's easy for others to see how the pieces fit
when standing  back, looking at the entire puzzling picture,
how something or someone can become a fixture
in the fragile bubble surrounding your life,
how a shared sandwich and some laughter
on some stones by babbling water
brought down peace upon me from above
like multi-colored leaves floating gently down
to lay upon the ground
as stepping stones to tomorrow

Brother Owl...

 A coo like a cough
made me look upward to see ,
silhouetted in the trees
in the blaze of color that is sunset,
an owl staring unblinking back at me
waiting for the cowl of darkness
to mix with shadows
and so begin his night flights
from tree to tree
emblazoned like an aegis fluttering
against the shield of the Moon...

Looking down, craning his neck
at what seemed an impossible angle,
he suddenly took to wing, a quiet rush of air
the only proof he had been there
and lit just a little further down the trail
This game he played,
as i made my way in the dying light
why he stayed i'll never know
perhaps he was just guiding my way
as the light faded away
fearing for my journey home...

Manchester Moon...

The air was as crisp as fresh linen
smoothed by hand upon the bed,
the sun was sinking low,
sky awash in a rainbow of colors
from the palest of pinks to the most fiery red
As we crossed the road to the old cemetery
it felt almost as if i was being led,
past ancient markers and crumbling stones,
family names matching the streets
of the little town of barely ten thousand souls,
to a tombstone where a raven sat
watching us as we approached
Then,  almost as with a tip of his hat
he spread his wings, held them outstretched
and flew off , a black shadow
disappearing into the fading light
There lay William W. Manchester
born the same day as i
but one hundred and five  years earlier
and the day he died Nov. 24, 1905
one hundred and five years ago
Veteran of the Spanish American War
makes me wonder what kind of horrors he saw
Tonight a full  blue moon beckons
from where to you think i will watch it rise, you reckon?

Mother's Milk...

The sun rose in splendid color
then slipped behind the grey,
every day is an echo away
Hear me crying for your mothers
because i think of mine
and how i will have to face that some day
They say you're not a man,
you'll never understand
till the day you lose you first love,
the first eyes you beheld,
the one who you could tell
anything and she would understand

The sky is grey
but there's light behind the clouds,
trying to find a way back to earth
Maybe one day we will meet again
if my life has been of any worth
i remember well all that you have told
though i don't remember ever holding you
We do what we can and hope the world will understand,
we truly all do the best that we can...

Night is falling but i believe the sun will rise,
some things you must take on faith
My life has been trying in every sense of the word,
hope i get the point none too late
All the things i value come from within your soul
you gave me my love of music and song
i remember you singing as you were cooking in the kitchen
when my world was still innocent and young...

Of all the things i do miss i miss you the most
but then again i always have
growing up alone and lonely
in a mansion on the hill
a ghostly whisper, a bitter laugh

No one is to blame, there's no longer shame
only awkward silences at times
If i could i wouldn't change a thing
for didn't it all bring me here?
and today is where i always want to be...

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Feel Like a Turkey?...

Are the thanks we are giving
for the simple joy of living,
for the wonder each day brings to your doorstep?
Do you take a look within
as you take a look about,
do you think of the ones that go without?
The Holidays don't bring me cheer
it seems each coming year
brings us further from special times well spent
from prayers on knees bent
Nieztche was right, i believe he saw the light
when he said everything becomes the opposite
of what was the first intent
Yes, we must all worry about
the price you pay for the rent,
not of our homes
but of our hearts...

Since You Asked...

My words, your thoughts
together let us see what we have brought
to this table and see if we are able
to make sense of the images laid before you
Trust me ,this is new to me
just as every time i go back and read
i see something i haven't seen
making  me ponder
just what did i mean
or was i just conveying a message
in this Passage through Time
on this long uphill climb?
Hey, did it work out fine, for you?
For i make no excuses,
this i simply what i do...

Take it All...

Cast a pall upon it all,
let the chips fall where they may
Tired of the difference between
what people mean and what they say
Who do you think you are fooling anyway
when your eyes can't hide the lies?
Am i so naive to take your words at face value
when body language and glances averted
will not hide true meaning?
Why do i continue to believe
when those willing to help
are far outnumbered by the need?
Human avarice and greed
while the world  cries as it bleeds
bitter tears, indeed...

Ghostly Tears...

All heart in a lost soul,
full of feelings and emotions
he rarely can control
Things you don't think twice about
can have him trembling on the floor
but you wouldn't know to look at him
for he appears to be so much more
In this life it's sink or swim
and he grows weary of treading water
while he dies of thirst
in the salty sea of his own tears
Sad conclusions he's refused to believe
death of dreams, of family in the face of harsh reality
angry whispers to himself,
"how can this possibly be,
how does sadness always find me,
will i never find tranquility?"

Scared of Ghosts...

I grow  weary of being talked about
and talked around as if i wasn't there
judged by the bracelets on my wrists,
the period shirts, evoking bygone eras,
torn jeans and moccassins i like to wear,
dozens of pairs of eyeglasses
and Jack Sparrow curls in my hair
People have strange way about them,
of showing that they care
Or are you more curious than concerned
could it be you are a little scared
of what you see before you
of from where it may have come
of how this could be true
of what it may yet become?...

On the Fringe of Irene's Dress...

Wind swept leaves lie scatter on the ground
     as the trees bend with branches stretching
in supplication and prayer as if on bended knee
    The rain falls sideways upon the window panes
in no rhythm at all as it continues to fall
     from skies more white than grey
The gusts continue to batter,
     entreating windows to shatter,
proving we are not landlords
     but tenants of this Earth
and the sky rules over all
    for who has not heard the wind call
and all we can do is look to the sky in answer
    as we dance between the raindrops
hoping it will stop before we lose before it ends
     what little we truly have...


Saturday, August 20, 2011

Life Lesson...

Days should not be wasted,
     they should be tasted and savored
each one has a different flavor
     to enjoy or spit out
What is it you want to see
     climb that next hill
to see what just might be
     you must break some chains
in the search to be free
    of the things that limit you
for it's true it lies upon your shoulders
    sometimes it's a pat on the back
other times you must move the boulder
     we all learn as we get older
but what Truth do you seek,
     what makes you walk with pride,
what makes your knees weak
     what you do in the search for right and wrong
will determine how it is get along
     and find where it is you belong...


Friday, August 19, 2011


You cannot make up time
     but you can capture a moment,
forever etched in your memory
     that you will savor and replay
over again in times when your soul hungers
     for the warmth and comfort
We cannot live within the past
     it is never in our grasp
but hold on to what you cherish
     and that love will never perish
a treasure that is yours to share
     for we all have love to spare
if we give as we receive
     this is what i've come to believe
a heart that beats true never needs
     though we all have our wants
what we can't and what we can
     we all come to understand
and it does not diminish us
    to reach out our hands
when we give and when we need...

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Things that Make You Go "hmm"...

As the shadows recede and reveal
separating the dream from what is real,
a cold November breeze blows
as i curl my toes within my socks of winter fleece
watching the cigarette smoke rise for a moment
from my gargoyle perch upon the porch
to be whisked away when the wind takes it
and send it sailing over the treeline
Branches now visible what darkness made indivisible,
the oneness of shadows shattering  in the pale light

Wooden fingers reaching for the sky
almost in supplication,
the Eternal Question: Why?
What reason for the Seasons
other than the scientific,
could you perhaps be more specific?
Did perfect weather vanish with our banishment
from the Garden?
Is it a lesson to be learned
to take the bitter with the sweet
or was your heart just hardened?
What can we do to to achieve pardon?


Tie dye sky catches my eye
from a world away
Clouds as if applied by brush,
the photographer was in no rush
to capture the moment on her canvas
this much i know for the care, the patience shows
when you're doing what you love,
what you were born to do
We all watch but not all see
we all hear but not many listen
it is those who do that make dewdrops glisten
old souls with hearts like children
who marvel at what the rest are missing
by not having an open mind
and an open heart...

Ghost's Shadow...

Where the Red Fern grows
amid the pine tree's toes
as the rough bark buries
into the moist dark soil,
hungry for the musty nutrition
The sour smell of the logs decaying,
wet leaves leaving just a hint
of sweetness to the air
amid an Autumn day, warm as the brown leaves
brought spiraling down like torn parachutes
during the squall but two day past...

The last i remember a November day this warm
i was walking 'tween the hills and mounds
of a green and glistening Wisconsin ,
feeling blessed by the sun and lifted by the air
as the moments hung for hours
in the hazy glow of early morn,
my thoughts turned by
and borne upon the breeze,
hoping always to find you...

For it is in these moments
my thoughts turn to wherever you may be
to what you may be doing now
instead of sharing this with me
Yes, these are the moments
that set me free
Is it little wonder
where my heart chooses to be?
For i realize now,
even in my darkest moments
i was never alone...
You were always right here,
beside me...

Old Moccassins...

My Soul is a mirror to other Worlds,
holding nothing as if fills and empties,
forever drawing water from the well,
again the image of  pushing a rock up a hill
Ancient scribes and simpler times
is from where it first came
can almost feel the sand in my sandals
as i walk the dunes with candle in hand
hoping the Desert Wind won't extinguish my flame
The same goes for steaming jungles
and steps disappearing into the canopy
amid the clatter and cacophony
of the birds and monkeys in the trees
Children of the Sun, Lovers of the Moon
caught between twilight and moonlight
as the night flowers bloom...

Questions in the Still of the Morning...

Where does your heart lie,
     where does you your soul fly
as the dawn begins to break?
      How does your hope grow,
Where do you thoughts go,
     what does it take to take you there?
When do the cares end
     where do you send them
what do they become after they're gone?
     How do you find peace,
When do the fears cease,
     how is it you get along?
How strong can you be
     how do you become free
of the chains that bind you?
      In the making of a life
separate the wrong from right
     and try your best to leave the past behind you...

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Doe in the Headlights Look...

As i stood snarled in traffic
caused by the hope of holiday cheer,
i  spied amid the tall grass
of the median dividing the highway
traveling east and west
two deer laying down
to take a mid-morning rest
and i thought,
"Would that were i,
then i would have no reason to cry
for i could hide in plain sight
as civilization passed me by"
An almost infinite sadness
took me at first
as wished for what i could not have
Then i realized the error in my thinking
and gave a tired sigh
and a bitter laugh,
for no matter how hard you try
to make things better
or even just get by
sometimes that is all you have...

I As Well..

When seen from a different slant
it is not a matter of can't
At times i wont let myself collect myself
and do what needs be done
In fight or flight the timing must be right
lest i let the test get the best of me
and run crying into the black night
Though i know this is not the right response
sometimes i am caught by my shirttail
as i hop the fence of opportunity,
 in a panic tearing at the fabric,
leaving cover and comfort behind
It strange how blind we can be
for what in others we see
we often don't recognize in ourselves...

As Ever...

A sunny day won't matter
when i can't hear your laughter
what i have been after is in my heart
where it has been for ever
Don't ask me how it started,
i only know it will never end...

Somehow i breathe the air you expel,
i am forever in your spell
When you are sad,
how can i be well?
You need only look at me to tell...

You know with care comes worry
sometimes the lines are blurry
please , take your time don't hurry
because i'll be right here,
waiting for you
i only know it will never end...

Somehow i breathe the air you expel,
i am forever in your spell
When you are sad,
how can i be well?
You need only look at me to tell...

Fleeting Images...

Forever in Limbo
for there is only so far i will go
whether out of fear or courtesy
seems i'm forever letting others tell me
what i already know, what little of me shows
behind the sad smile
It's as though i exist on another plane,
change the angle of the mirror
and have a look again...
Tell me what you think you see
and i will shake my head, sadly
for you are judging me by your values
not by what i'm trying to be
Where is the parity?
this World is not for me
it has never let me be
but is it they or is it me
that doesn't see clearly?
Sometimes i seem so close
i almost taste the sweetness of completeness
only to have the bitter cup of my realities
send me back to where i don't want to be,
between the Scylla and Charybdis
of my dreams and daylight
having nothing of my own
just these questions that i write...

Seconds Tick...

Today it feels like the tears won't stop
till my body withers, shrunken and wasted,
my life slipping away  teardrop by teardrop
and yet here i am, not trying to explain,
trying to understand how the starting gate
seems closed again
and i must pretend to not care
turn my back, refuse to share
out of obstinance and regret
after a handful of whispers on the wind
is all you get
nothing of real substance
despite your cries and insistence
that this is the best you can do
not as if you ever had the chance to choose
when your world explodes
and all your left is pieces to a puzzle
that will never be finished
before your time is through...

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Mirror Games...

The games we all play
just what do they say
about what we want of life
and what we want to go away?
Do you play well with others
or are you the kind to smother the fun,
thinking you are the only one allowed to win?
When you lose, do you begin again
or do you find an easier opponent to beat,
an easier game to win
where you can fly by the seat of your pants
without learning anything?
Or do you play at love
again, thinking it was made
for you and no one else
and what you want is all that's real
forgetting that others feel as well?
You make your life , your very small world
a living hell where you no longer know
your own lies from the truth
so  please, don't bid me come in...

There but...

A cold and windy Thanksgiving evening
as she waited there in line,
layered in every coat she owned
She was younger than me and not,
her eyes belied her age
looking about slowly and silently
without a word she said a lot
My knees went weak,
i could not find a tongue in my mouth to speak
for she had my mother's face...
She walked liked her, moved like her
the same step, the same grace
and beside he was her little son
i was too afraid to see
but i knew before he turned around
he looked just like me
or like i did so many years ago
before i lost my place,
for there was still wonder in his eyes,
still curiosity on his face
He knew not shame, he knew not guilt
he just knew that it was Thanksgiving
and he was happy for the meal,
the time spent in the warmth,
his face shone in gratitude at the giving
And i thought,
Truly, but for the grace of God
go any of you or I
What separates us is what it takes us
just to stay alive
One man's holiday
means a warm meal for someone today
so why not everyday?...
      (Thanksgiving Day, 2010)


The Valley is quiet
in the calm before the storm
even the highway is dark
as few have started the journey home
The sun rises in pinks and tangerine
as cooks prepared the holiday feast
and play at attaining the American Dream
What are we celebrating,
do you even know
how we "discovered" a country
people already called home?
Columbus, like Cortez was a killer,
the Pilgrims were celebrating death for dinner,
blankets filled with smallpox
to keep you warm in winter...
Please, tell me another tale
of how great America is
and not this sad truth,
this Judas kiss...

The Sermon on the Mount...

They followed Him as he walked
speaking of the Kingdom of Heaven
Enraptured by the words, the milling crowd grew
as their footsteps took them out of the city
and into the wilderness of the surrounding desert
A Mount He climbed so all could see
as He spoke for hours to those who would listen
Before anyone knew the sun was sinking
He stopped and bid them eat
and He would continue after they had supped...

Not all had brought food and they looked about,
embarrased and hungry,
as those who had brought provisions
prepared to take their meal
From on high He saw this and spoke a word in prayer
then taking what His disciples had brought,
He took a piece of fish and bread
and handed the rest to share...

Those without food stared in wonder,
those with stared in shame
for another lesson was being taught,
the meaning there for all was plain
The miracle was not making food appear out of nowhere
The miracle was in getting the people to share....

Half the Time, Have the Time...

Another night falling away
     a new day's begun
A new mystery forming
     to be exposed in the sun
Tell me your dreams there
     as we bask in the sun
for there is never a care
    with that certain someone...

A shimmer of light in the East
     a glimmer of hope in my breast
a timorous step that i take
     but that is the least
No hope without out trying
     if you're not living you're dying
each day may be beguiling
     but it has something to teach...

It is only dark half the day
     the other half's light
and in the naked light you'll see
    the wrong from the right
It is only light have the day
     the other half's dark
don't go crying in the shadows
     go searching for the spark


Monday, August 15, 2011

Clock Watcher...

Twelve o'clock at night
turns to one in the morning
seconds tick and cogs click
but time comes and goes without warning
despite our vain attempts to corral
the wild horse no rider has ever tamed
as she stomps her hooves
and her manes flies about her face
like a prairie fire running fast and fierce
across the sand and sagebrush
The hands move,
but how often do you see the moment?
How long can you wait
watching the seconds go by?
One does not need a watch
to know a new day has come...

Coming Back...

Dawn spreads her arms,
pink and fiery orange
as the birds stretch their wings
and fly east toward her warm embrace,
black shadows flying into the light
More clouds are there than sky
as they fly by the half moon
rocking gently, like a cradle
catching the stars as they fall asleep
These memories i want to keep,
these moments i want to share
for no matter where i am
you are there as well
until the moment i see your face
and read aloud my words to you...


I have but one voice to call my own
my words, for but one ear;
this now for some thirty odd years
Now, so much nearer yet further away
leave me not tired of hoping
but afraid, fearing wrong words to say

It is in the not knowing, the not sharing
the sudden turnarounds and turnabouts
the pundits say are fair
but do they know just where
indecision and the indefinite leave the soul ,
desperate,when every precious minute
is as blood from your veins?

This is what has not changed since that very first day;
thirst won't die, hunger won't go away
which has nothing to do with the feelings existing between us
it's just hard not to notice the electricity between us
the sparks that fly from your eyes
to the smile on my lips...

Shining Through...

Crescent moon with one lonely star
or is that a planet,
perhaps Venus or Mars?
As i sit within god's cosmic mason jar
of morning wonder and delight
Here he placed the horizon
as he set the blanket of Dawn along its edge,
the colors caught among the embroidered tapestry
of hills in the distance and outlines of trees
Is this not symbol of the Middle East,
the middle of the Earth where the Heavens meet?
I think i see the meaning now;
how each day starts with a moon and a star,
shining not on their own but reflecting
light that comes from afar...


Why sit waiting for the coming Dawn?
Would that it would rise one morn
to find my blanket cold and me gone
Too long on this cold hard rock i've been on
and it's only the third one from the sun
Closer and i would burst into flame
further and my blood would freeze in my veins
So it appears i'm stuck here,
alone again unnaturally...
Actually in a little while from now
i may seek out that very same tower,
just to look, to see what it took,
if you need any special power
If all it takes is that first step,
who would think you need any help
but things seen between Nothingness and Eternity
sometimes grab you by the collar
to bring you back to Earth and the sad reality
makes you wish you had put up more of a fuss and holler
either way, you're still alone
the decision, always your own;
why wait for the Dawn?...


If  the tables were turned
tell me, what would you learn?
Where would your thoughts go
when you're left behind and alone?
Of the the things that you need
how can you make me believe
i am somewhere on that list
when you won't speak my name
Time is what you say you need
time away, time drags and seconds bleed
what is there left for you to believe
what i've come to know

Now i see where i stand,
once again empty hands
Put my them in my pocket
as i walk with my eyes downcast
Sadly, sigh to myself
softly cry once again
Awash in a sea of anguish
begun with a tear of doubt...
Time is what you say you need
time away, time drags and seconds bleed
if you won't take my hands, what are they for?
help me come to know...

View from the Edge...

Always the last to know
foolish enough to show how he feels
like a child who still believes in words spoken
realizing too late they were just tokens
left to placate a lost soul, a foolish friend
who is bound to meet a sorry end
leaving this toy broken where you left it
Tired and wired at the same time
wanting to reach the precipice
and take a leap into the fire
The last in line every time
tired of begging
for what i thought was mine
stolen moments and wishful thinking
have left me sinking
without any desire to swim...

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Words Fail...

I love,
perhaps, too dearly
I live barely,
as though the stars
by which i steer my ship 
lie hidden by the clouds
of misconception and deception
and, i'm sure,
some well meant good intentions
blocking my light
and taking the fight out of me,
to be replaced by the tears 
keeping afloat this sad boat,
this dory called A Fool's Tears...

Back on shore, a castaway once more,
aloud i speak to myself as i walk,
softly berating myself as i talk,
hating myself a little more,
not for what i have become
but for what i have always been;
a heart broken way too soon,
a shadow in the darkness, watching always
but never joining the party
he sees from within his gloom
for he is his own jailer
and he keeps a short leash
A nun spoke his doom
years ago on the pages
of a tome of Greek mythology
"he who hesitates is lost"
How did she know
so many years ago
or did it show even then?

Where was the grace of god,
to give the lesson so early
before the child could understand?
Now, what were vices have become habits
what does not kill me keeps me barely alive
in a sad symbiotic relationship
of pain creating, sadness in the painting
eyes see, but words fail without a page
where i can correct them before they're said
in haste and in frustration
or in wonder and elation
a kind of cosmic creation i have not control over
just like the rest of my life...   

Sunrise Through the Trees...

Watching the sunrise
through trees now bereft of leaves
glistening and gleaming from countless strands
of spider silk catching and reflecting light
as branches sway in cold morning breeze,
dancing to the Windsong and reaching for the warmth
Sit i upon this rock with dead fall to be made staff
as the knife peels back the bark to reveal beneath
or somewhere else , sometime long past,
before the power of speech?
First a dark sheath; then cream colored flesh of solid wood
you can feel the good in your hands
This life that flowed i understand,
growing towards the light, reaching into Earth
leaves that laughed in the wind
with the years written in rings around your girth
Let me stand forever amid this glen,
spread may arms just so and pretend
to be growing always upward towards the light
A simple enough task,
one that i may just get right...


Will this Well of Tears ever dry,
how long can one cry
before the eyes grow dim,
when the chance for happiness seems slim?
I've read despair is a sin
but when you feel  you can never win
what else is left?
We are what we are , nothing less
and certainly nothing more
for despite my years of exploring
within myself and without any help
i always come up short
in matters that matter
but when it comes to idle chatter
i can keep up with the best
but sadly, that has never been my test
Mine has been an uphill climb
from shame, pain and degradation,
from smiling monsters
who fooled all but me
Why could not the others see
knowing that, i knew they would never believe
Compounded by the sins of catholic education,
omission and repression
the token ethnic did not learn his lesson;
sin all you want, just be sure to go to confession
Let me follow the Stations of the Cross
as i approach my Calvary
Be sure to use the lance
to make sure it is the end of me...

Moonlight Snowfall...

Took a walk into the darkness
as the first flurries of snow  began to drift down,
frozen dandelion puffs landing without sound
clinging to the rocks and logs
but melting as they hit the ground
Leaves, moist and silent, as the snow lands in your hair
You can see where some creature went here and there;
here it foraged  a moment, there some more time was spent
in the moments before the sun sank behind  the hills
as the last bit of warmth was sent...
Again follow the ferns, still green and vibrant,
taking log and stone beneath my steps
so few may follow where this creature went
To my spot among the pines after a short but steep climb,
there to find one of the few things i can call mine,
my place in the hollow where no one has followed me before
With cliff behind me and valley below,
the stars above me put on their nightly show
It never fails; somehow i always become sleepy... 

Awoke two hours later with  a mantle of snow
laying about my shoulders, my hair covered in hoar frost
Rising slowly from the seated position against the pine
my legs scissoring me up like a Punjab rajah
i shook myself like an old brown bear,
took a moment to realize just exactly where i was
and take my bearings from the outline of the trees above
Following a familiar path now lit by fallen snow
walking with the moonlight making the earth glow
gleaming white, cold and bright, wonder of night,
the ghost, haunted by the sights...

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Hidden Moon...

Obscured by cloud cover
     but i know where you lie;
this is the basis of belief...
     Gazing up at the sky
in hope i will see you
    as the clouds rush by
The longing, desire,
     the need to inquire
of the pale, cold fire
     that has always inspired in me
wonder, magic and awe
    and doubt, as if what i saw
was merely a figment of my own imagination
     This corresponds with the nature of Man,
the timeless questions since Time began
     the hesitant questioning as to the Master Plan
since we are the only ones to wonder
     the spell we are under, the dreams torn asunder
by our own disbelief...

Different Sky..

Waiting for the full moon to glow
    the cold light orb has not grown larger
the last time was eighteen years ago
     i wait to have it shine on me
as i'm starting a new history
     another play, another way for me...

Where were you before, where are you today?
     What did you explore before today?
Where were you before, where are you today
      where were you before, before today?

A change in sky, the question why
    why do some things change
and why do others remain the same?
     Perhaps what changes is what must
or the cost would be too great
     so change what must before it's too late...

Where were you before, where are you today?
     What did you explore before today?
Where were you before, where are you today
      where were you before, before today?

Waiting for the full moon to glow
     that hasn't changed in me, you know
i have watched for many years...
    But tonight a different man
is standing still like he began
    and he sees through different eyes...

Where were you before, where are you today?
     What did you explore before today?
Where were you before, where are you today
      where were you before, before today?

Friday, August 12, 2011

Sunny Snow Shower...

The snow blowing off the rooftop
lying like coconut shavings on the trees and grass,
that follows a night of cold powder
Diamonds of light sparkling, cascading
close to but never touching the ground
as they race along the ice crust
formed by the sun's warmth and the earth cold...
Blue grows behind the grey,
the wind whistles and laughs,
calling to the clouds to be on their way
The first snowfall seems always followed by a bright day
so one can marvel at the beauty;
how snow molds and melts
always in the process of becoming something else...
 swirls and twirls in the morning sun

Dark Kingdom of Cold White

There will be no quiet this night,
my steps crunching and crackling
as i step across the parking lot,
an asphalt sea with frozen continents of ice
left by plow blades skipping over bumps,
sparks shooting into the snow
as metal scraped concrete curb
The grass is frozen bristles
as the winds wails and whistles in wonder
to find some creature under cover of darkness
making his way alone...

Without the staff this would be a laugh
a Keystone comedy of footsteps
before the eventual pratfall
The lesson here is caution
for though no one is watching
how one carries one's self
is often all one has
Some say, "fool, what matters how you fall?"
But what if that is all,
the only testament you leave,
your impression on the Earth?

Some live a lifetime falling,
some answer to a higher calling,
Some live lives wailing and bawling,
others hemming, hawing and stalling
Somehow, it seems , i'm all of these
and strangely, somehow none
If you see my shadow in the darkness
and ask who's there;
the answer comes back,
no one...

Horse Clouds Running...

 Ice in a waterfall of molten silver,
shimmering and showering, full of power
as it cascades down the cliffs alongside the highway,
reflecting the sun that has just begun to sink
as the day draws to an end and Dusk approaches,
silently, almost sullenly, as if he resents his short term
between light of Day and dark of Night
not enough time, thinks he to feel Earth unwind,
preparing to sleep by stars kind this night
Clouds, puffs of soft grey with edges of white
catching sunlight here and there
as the wind keeps the course
The gallop of horses is heard through the trees;
and. suddenly, they turn to stallions
stamping, snorting and neighing in the breeze
Distant thunder rolling, as flags fly tattered and wind battered
from the first winter storms that shattered
our Indian Summer idyll just a few days past
New England weather is never tethered
this horse runs wild
     (written 12-10-10)

Then, Now and Always...

Standing between the Gates of Heaven and Hell;
just an arm's length away from each other
facing each other, parallel
So close you can smell the brimstone,
hear the screams and wails
as angels sing, bells ring
and cherubim clap in wonder
On the razor's edge we live
with feet hanging over the ledge we breathe
and take the deeper pull of the rarified air
For some hearts there is no in between
loving the danger, living extremes,
for who wants to get caught in the seam
trapped between dying and living?

Whatever you have, keep giving
Make someone smile, be forgivng
Walk that extra mile, don't stop living
for the alternative is truly not thrilling
Live for yourself and not others
think for yourself, trust your mothers
Live this life for there may not be another
waiting with your pie in the sky
Love whom you can and will...
What else is there?
Show how much you love,
let the world know you care
When two souls meet again
nothing compares
to the smile of recognition...
     (written 12-10-10)

Under the Tree...

In the calm after the storm, on a crisp winter morn
wondering what page i am on in this Book of Life being written
for i am forever being smitten by cosmic coincidences
and other worldly occurrences, contrivances and conveyances
if one is not paying close attention so many things can slip by
in the proverbial wink of an eye, in the blink before you die
in the lifetime wondering who, what and why
and just where does one begin?

How the simple act of keeping busy
can keep you from feeling dizzy
When your world is spinning 'round you
you need to find your solid ground,
to focus your attention,
to perservere in the face of contention
the oft mentioned ounce of prevention
is sometimes all it takes...

To do for others,
without second thought
My gifts are love and friendship;
dearly earned and sorely sought
A rare gift given, never bought
but grows out of my love for you...
     (written 12-24-10)

It Came Upon a Midnight Clear...

As the light begins to glow in the East,
i gaze as the colors begin to grow
wondering about the Greatest and the Least,
the Ways of the World and what i've come to know...

How will the least become first
when people walk past him,
laying on the sidewalk
at the bottom of the Well of Humanity,
dying of thirst?

How will children learn
when parents no longer teach?
It seems the long reach of the law
is too often the first and last lesson learned
in a short lifetime searching for entitlement;
where you just do without asking,
without pondering the meaning,
not knowing where the money' spent,
never noticing Twilight's Last Gleaming,
believing everything is as it seems
when nothing can be further from the truth
I have seen complacency and cynicism
become the banners of our youth...

When did they lose the fire,
what became of their longing, their desires?
Is it that our poor examples have done little to inspire?
Then, it's best the Old Guard retire, for what is now required
at least to these tired eyes, is a Bonfire of the Vanities
an end, like Ms. Powter long ago said, an end to the insanity
For if you can not be honest enough
to look and see your own faults,
what chance has this Earth?...
     (written 12-25-10)


Thursday, August 11, 2011

New Night, New Sights, New Start, New Heart...

The Big Dipper, splashing across the sky
     like a three- masted schooner
against blue-black clouds lit from behind
    by the bright white spoon of the moon
The dark blue sky listens as the crickets cry
   echoing across the darkened valley below me...

A moon nearly full shines illuminating the pines
    the tops swaying in the late summer breeze
and a thought seizes me, how this please me    
     to my knees it brings me in almost a prayer
am i saying it correctly      
     feel like an ass braying trying to convey  it,
for words could never be enough.....

If a pictures does paint a thousand words,
     are a few enough and would the lines blur
 between why you see and what you feel,
     between the imagined from what is real?
 How the moments steal away,
     like the line between night and day
Between what you think and what you say
    there are a thousand moments...
          (written 08-11-11)

Lump of Coal...

Holiday tears mixing with familiar fears...
It has been thus year after year;
coming close but never near enough
to feel the Christmas cheer,
to play the part so it appears
i am thankful for what i have
and just what is that?...

A handful of air,
illusions i to try grasp
friends and family disappear into the mist
as i shake my head and wipe a tear
uttering a bitter laugh
Misconceptions leading to deception
to keep themselves aloof and above it all
lest the proof determines a different truth
and they realize they missed the call
For they cannot see me
they don't even see themselves
living a life they think is right
leaving broken toys lying on the shelf,
a present never opened...
     (written 12-26-10)

Bah, Humbug..

Mock merriment, to our detriment
for it only increases sadness
Back handed compliments
and asking how your year went
when all it would have taken
was a simple phone call
in Spring, Summer or Fall
to let us know we have not been forsaken
but this heart has been too many times broken
by these supposed tokens of affection;
little more than sleight of hand and misdirection
short little spans of attention,
never hearing the answer to the question
they themselves mentioned
in the name of the spirit of the Season
They play their parts so well,
without thought or reason
continuing the travesty
Am i wrong, is it just me?
for this is what i see ;
what should be a celebration of family
has become a hollow ritual
celebrating nothing but good marketing...
     (written 12-26-10)

Hallmark Moment...

 Let us start a new holiday
by word of mouth only
Let's start planning today
one for the sad, depressed and lonely
The theme will be;
"i am alive today and let tomorow come what may"
No gifts to buy, no cards to send
not lines to wait in, no money to spend
Just stop by unexpectedly upon a friend
or call someone who may be sick
to see if they are on the mend
No need to send a present
to someone you pretend to like
no worrying about the cost
if you spent enough, if you got it right
Just treat everyone you meet
like a long lost friend
Kindness goes a long way
and love never ends
but shallow words wrapped around a gift
is not what this holiday meant when it first began
over the years the meaning has been lost
by the greed and avarice of Man...
    (written 12-26-10)


In the jaws of a blizzard
as the wind roars its warning
the clouds that have long been forming
now unleash in full the white barrage 
only hinted at by the peaceful flurries of the afternoon

All too soon the storm has turned
from it's path along the shoreline
as the buoys tried to keep time
with lighthouses swathed in the blanket
unfurling and swirling like towels on a clothesline
along and past the sand
To barely see your hand before you
as the snow slants sideways past your face
any traces of your footsteps,
gone in a blink of the eye, quickly erased

This is winter at its worst,
this is why it has been cursed for centuries
Tomorrow, in the stillness and the light
we will revel and play with childlike delight
but not tonight...
          (written 12-26-10)

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Rising Shine...

Colors of the morning spread,
     clouds rising like multi-colored steam
spilling upward from the lip
    of the sorcerer's cauldron of the sun
to form billowing mountains
    as the last star in the sky
points the way for the first rays
    to penetrate the darkness
and bring the start of a new day...
     Tangerine gleams and fades into cream,
the angle of incidence exploding the grey
    giving the robin's egg blue reflection
a place to start spreading
     as the light spreads and birds turn their heads
eastward, ever eastward,
     spreading their wings slowly
towards the warmth and toward the light...

Circle Around My Sun...

We all begin in magic,
     in the awe and wonder we produce
coming back to Earth,
     angels giving up their wings
to walk where His feet trod,
     learning more in the first few moments
than we can ever hope to remember
     in the rush of images,
in the beauty, in the splendor,
      how colors in your iris render me helpless,
not disguising for an instant
     there my universe lies
as shooting stars fly,
     as light comes to the sky
as blue becomes the morning
     and this Early Bird longs to fly
into your arms, within your charms
      keeping us both safe from harm
within our own Inner Circle...

Monday, August 8, 2011

Son of the Morning Star...

The last star in the morning sky
     whispered his name to me
as the colors of the sunrise
     washed him from the sunny shores
of Morning's Glory
     The last to sink into the darkness
cursing the light,
     how is it i did not see?
The brightest of the lot
     but not happy with what he's got
the first proof of be careful
     what you wish for,
to know when you have enough,
     to be grateful
and when you don't need more
     All well and good  it is
to be curious and explore
     but some doors should remain closed
some things only God should know

Every Day is New...

 Fog rising from the hills,
     a sea of rolling milky white
hiding civilization from sight,
     leaving only the tallest of trees
visible now and then as the breeze
     moves the fast fading curtain
revealing the players behind
     waiting their turn on stage
The day grows bright,
     packs of squirrels
running up and down trees
     and balancing across branches,
leaping from tree to tree
     for the sheer joy it seems
or to tease the wrens,
     chatter at Tom Turkey and his hens
as they make their way along their snow dusted path
     scratching and strutting with cackles like laughs
as the iridescence of their feathers
     reflect the colors of the rainbow
Yes, cry, "Morning!",
     a new day is dawning
Wake up, scratching and yawning
     but wake up...