Green, Green Grass of Winter...

The grass was up past your ankles

     and whispered as I walked past,

"Look, the Green still stands

     to remind you Earth remains,

     unchanged and undying...":
     a patch amid the Desert of White,
     welcome surprise, no small delight;

     Reason be damned,

     how does one explain the sight

     of the Winter Lea

     standing before me

     in a swirling Sea of White?...

Eyes search the ground
to seek what clues
there may be found
and I see to my right
a line of raised Earth;
upon closer inspection
I see it is a drainage pipe,
long left abandoned
at some old construction site,
half buried with each end
sealed up tight
with leaves, deadfall and such;
this is what keeps Earth warmer
and allowed the grass to grow;
funny how it you take a little time
you may actually find
the answers the questions you asked
on your own, don't cha know?...
           Jan. 30 and 31, 2015

You Know This...

Man's inhumanity

     is, at its core,

     his animal instinct

     for mere survival,

     another part of us

     we must transcend

     to be able to do more;

     to progress Beyond

     the Garden of Ignorance

     into the Light of Reason;

     from the Ambivalence

     of Learned Behavior

     to the understanding of concepts;

     the difference between

     Knowing and Believing,

     between Realizing

     and merely repeating,

     between a jabbering parrot

     and an Eagle screaming

     as he flies upward

     into clouded Sky,

     searching for the true

     Light of Day...

Seek what was Lost

long before we were born;

look beyond what

you have been told;

some never grow up,

while others just grow old,

waiting, always waiting

for Salvation that never comes,

the Great Lie

or so I have been told...
Jan. 31, 2015

Quitting Time...

The Blue-Grey
     color of Dusk
     as the crows descend
     to roost for the Night,
     filling the Trees
     to my left and my right
     as I walk, balancing
     on the rail
     as the River begins to shine
     in the Dark;
     I stop and raise my arms,
     with staff in hand,
     across from rail to rail
     and as one they
     take to Sky, circling once
     as they fly away,
     following the Wind
     to the next sheltered curve...
The Brass City gleams again,
     below me, light begins to glow,
     the new yellowish-amber
     incandescent street light,
     not lamps like the older ones
     I recall as a child,
     clam shaped or bell,
     giving off an almost sepia tone,
     you become an instant antique
     as you walk beneath, alone
     again, naturally,
     for who but this Fool,
     this Hatter,
     mad from the making
     is still searching 
     for the Radium Girls,
     wondering which bus
     did they take?...
                Jan. 28, 2015

Pioneeer Carpenter...

Cat tracks
     in the snow,
     steady across the fence line,
     past the old tool shed
     with rusty scythes still hanging
     and saws shining red
     as the door slowly creaks open
     and the first Light in years
     land upon a wooden tool box,
     full of moss covered
     implements of fine construction;
     an artisan's tools, no doubt,
     a grace, refinement about them
     and I almost shout as I smile,
     a slow tear forms;
     I am transformed,
     in buckskin back again I go
     and turn towards the door
     the wind had blown open;
     go without Thought, without Fear,
     without any sense of the Real,
     for these are the Moments
     I steal from the Infinite...
Time does stand still,
     a Lifetime stands before me;
     chairs in different stages
     of completion hang
     from above and line the walls;
     dizzy, dazed I stumble,
     to the closest chair I humbly sit,
     solid as a rock,
     I am consoled...
             Jan. 27, 2015

After the Storm...

Wood and Water
     wait for me
     between Eighty-Four
     and South Main,
     along the tracks
     following the river;
     wishing for as canoe
     to take me to the Sea,
     there I want to see
     the remnants of the Storm;
     there the Fury is greatest,
     where Air, Earth and Sea meet,
     the Power is strongest
     in the Open, in the Mystic...
The Great Expanse;
     was it by chance
     that we crawled
     from the Sea,
     were the Others
     here before us,
     were we the Last,
     the Worst, the Least,
     did the weakest come naked,
     shivering as we came
     from the foaming waves
     as the Tempest raged
     and the Lightning crackled
     and the sand gave way
     until we reached the Dunes,
     wrapped ourselves in Sea Grass
     and waited for Sun to rise
     and the warmth of a new Day?...
             Jan. 26, 2015

Quick Look (Peaceful Disassociation)...

Half past the Witching Hour
     when I come into
     (what for lack
     of better word)
     may be called
     my greatest power;
     Celestial Star showers
     and Visions of the Emerald Beyond,
     but rooted deep
     with Earth,
     lest the World upend
     me yet again
     and send me to
     some untimely end
     based on hearsay
     and flimsy evidence
     (but doesn't always
     get its way,
     but this is only
     because you allow it)...
Don't give them the Power,
     save it for yourself
     or share it when
     you feel the need
     or find a Like Soul,
     someone similar to yourself;
     it's not a look, Fool,
     it's a stance,
     take a good look, fast,
     for there might not be
     a second chance
     and Tomorrow never comes...
               Jan. 25, 2015

Norse Wind...

Glistening, gleaming
     as the beams 
     of the streetlights
     shine down upon
     the snow falling softly,
     dancing upon the powdered sugar
     already lying in inches,
     but somehow can not
     be called thick
     when a passing car
     sends it swirling about my boots,
     dervishes whirling with delight 
     as they dance, skirts swirling
     at the sight of snow shadows,
     if you look upon it just right
     you see two snowflakes
     landing at once;
     the trees and brush
     are candy covered floss,
     though some cry at the loss
     as my shoulders toss aside
     branches hanging 
     just a little bit lower,
     my step a little slower,
     not at any obstructions,
     just slowing to gaze
     in pure and grateful wonder
     at the construction
     of the marvelous scene before me;
     and then Sun rises
     and surprises me,
     for now the colors are
     spread upon the white lawn
     and I'm walking
     the Rainbow Bridge to Asgard...
            January 23, 2015

Mall-Seleum...

The Modern Day
Tower of Babel;
the Mall,
the Mausoleum of Originality;
where a label says,
"Come be just like me
and one hundred before
and thousands after,
be the first on your block
to have the new Jordans",
learning the Value of Nothing,
it should be Books
and not sneakers
you should be hoarding;
nothing made,
it is all manufactured,
the Artist's eyes are blinded,
the Musician's fingers fractured
amid the lights
and bright colors
placed precisely to attract you;
almost laughable
in their pleading,
your hard-earned dollars
is what they're needing,
when in fact it is your Soul
upon which they feed
and you scarce notice
the fangs as they sink
and they take a long, full sip,
wipe away a little from their lips,
then go back for more...
          Jan. 22, 2015

The Pan...

Seems always in the City
     bracing myself
     for yet another blow,
     eyes furtive,
     muscles tensed,
     this is  the Age
     of Watch Your Back,
     ya know;
     it is only amid
     the Ice and Snow,
     Wood and Water
     where I find respite,
     where my muscles relax,
     there is where
     I have ever gone,
     where I wish you
     all would go,
     for many would not
     come back;
     Earth
     would swallow you whole
     and spit out the bones,
     releasing those poor
     tired, unknowing souls...
If you can survive
     a wooded Winter Night,
     if you can look upon
     Moonlight blazing
     through the Pines
     with Delight,
     if you wish you fly
     from the first Star
     on the right
     and straight on
     until Daylight
     then you can walk
     beside me
     and I will hold your hand
     as tightly as I can...
         Jan. 22, 2015

Cold Cut (Hyperborean)...

Cold morning confusion
     in the moments
     between Dark of Night
     and Dawn's Early Light;
     a few moments
     of brain scattered confusion
     as my timepiece
     does not match the Light...
Did I sleep
     as Time went backwards,
     did my Soul go back
     to relearn a lesson,
     to mull over a point
     that had left me guessing;
     did I wake a moment too soon
     before my poetic elves
     had time to turn back
     the Hands of Time
     as my Mind sought Truths
     my Brain could not comprehend?...
Am I suspended,
     living in mid-air,
     caught between
     the Illusion of the Moment
     and the Reality of my despair,
     is my Great Sadness
     merely my fighting Madness,
     slowly creeping towards my Soul
     or it is anger
     born of the Inequities
     that seem never to become whole?...
          Jan, 21, 2015

Is My Slip Showing?...

The question of Dress,
     of style personal
     and Cleanliness
     is next to Godliness;
     this is no pretense,
     it's what choose
     to wear
     and why is it such a care,
     how is it such a marvel
     to you,
     what in the World
     would you think and do
     if you didn't have me
     to wonder, worry
     and complain about?...
That which matters so little
     to me
     seems to speak volumes
     to you;
     what Memories does it awaken,
     what Belief has been shaken,
     what steps do you think
     need be taken
     to correct my mistaken
     sense of Sartorial Eloquence,
     to you?...
It tickles me,
     but I don't laugh,
     just slowly shake my head;
     how I wish
     instead of worrying about
     what it you think you see
     you'd just sit and talk
     a with me a while instead...
          Jan 17, 2015

Not Quite Nureyev...

Criss-crossing streets;

     shadow lengthen

     in the alley ways,

     cloaked and scarfed
     against the chill,

     somehow colder

     with the increased moisture

     in the Air,

     leaving tendrils of rime

     on brick walls,

     iced ivy clinging

     only till the rays

     of Tomorrow's Sun
     melts them in their place...

This taste of Winter

     is bitter to the tongue,

     like the salt

     clinging to the wheels wells

     and the dirty hub caps
     of the passing cars, ,

     find yourself hunching,
     involuntarily,

     and fighting muscles
     made sore from
     the straining

     to almost breaking
     as you push yourself forward
     once more...

 

Frozen puddles
     on the lawn
     in Library Park;
     serendipitous rinks

     to skate upon,
     running start, then slide,

     running start, then slide,
     now again,
     running start, then slide...

Feeling refreshed

    and younger, somehow,
    (and I didn't fall)
     this taste of Winter
     had a sweetness

     all its own...
     Jan. 17, 2015
  

Ode it Eire...

Sing along with me, now
words my forefathers knew
when your word was your bond
and your hand was the glue;
when you courted a lady,
won her hand straight and true
Ireland
oh, Ireland,
Land of the Brave
and True...

From the Lakes
to the Forests
to the Ruins in the Hills,
the Cairns and the Barrows,
locks of auburn hair
in the breeze
to the Cliffs 'long the seaside
to make you weak in the knees
Ireland
oh, Ireland,
just as pretty as you please...

So, come raise your pint
along with me now
to Freedom
and Music
and Ghosts of Poets
in the Air;
to the land of the Dreamers,
to the People without a care
Ireland
Oh, Ireland
May one day
the Lord
take me there...
          Jan. 15, 2015   1:45 pm

Simple Simon...

Listening to voices
     I know aren't my own,
     wandering in deserts
     of my making,
     tired and alone,
     living in the moment
     and tired to the bone
     for each moment
     slips away
     all too soon...
Need to catch up,
     need to trap some air,
     here where the air is thin
     I begin to see
     what is usually hidden
    from you and me...
 Am I in touch with Reality,
     or is that something
     permanently lost to me
     for they say Artists rarely see
     the World as is really is...
My words are my hopes,
    my words are my Dreams,
     my words are all that is left of me
    at times to me that's how it seems,
    for what would you see otherwise
    and how can I disguise myself
    so you may understand
    I'm not trying to explain,
    I'm trying to understand...
       Jan. 14, 2015   6:50 to 6:54

Cleansing...

In the Band Shell,
     listening
     to the Music of the City
     as the Asphalt River
     of the Highway roars,
     as the steady all-day rains
     continue to pour,
     I, within my layers
     stay warm and dry,
     escaping the gloom,
     not the gleam, of florescents
     that somehow sap my Essence,
     weaken me;
     don't speak to  me,
     for a moment
     as I try to catch my Breath...
Outdoors,
     where I belong,
     where I am strong, rooted,
     gathering my strength from Earth,
     better yet, unbooted,
     to feel the roots beneath me,
     how they entreat me
     to delve deeper,
     to be the Keeper,
     the Waking Sleeper,
     turning Dreams to Reality
     and Nightmares into Dust...
Trust in yourself
     and one other
     and you have learned much..
           Dec. 9, 2014

A Lifetime Describing...

Not the words
     but the experience
     is what I want you
     to walk away with,
     not the Storyteller
     but the Vision,
     want you to feel The Spell,
     the Spider dancing
     as the Web is spun
     to catch the Listener,
     then the fun has begun;
     but only if you see
     as I do,
     only if you feel
     as I do;
     if the break I take
     from Reality rings True
     to You...
Separate yourself
     from the Experience
     to see it clearly,
     question the Beliefs
     you cling to so dearly
     because if you're asking Questions
     you know you are nearing Answers...
Poetry is what you take from it,
     poetry can not be faked,
     it simply is,
     poetry is what we make
     of the pieces of our dreams
     after we slowly come
     to the Senses we don't need...
               Jan. 12, 2015    3:15 am

Philosopher's Stone...

Saw a saying that struck a chord
     and the music that becomes
     my poetry began to play;
"What is impossible
     when even the word says,
     I am possible?..."
A Parable within a Parable,
     a Lesson within a Lesson,
     for sometimes,
     there is no second-guessing
     or hindsight,
     just Foresight or Foreshadow
     of things that might
     come to matter Tomorrow...
Without a healthy body
     the rest falls to Decay;
     the Mind cannot focus,
     the Brain on auto-pilot
     but still cannot find its way;
     there must be Stasis,
     a base from which you command
     that which is only yours alone,
     meant only for your hands...
Find your tools to do more
     than Survive,
     ask little of others
     but do as much as you can;
     it has taken me years
     to come to some conclusions
     but beginning to understand
     those who you can rely on
     are always there before
     you need the helping hand...
                Jan. 11, 2015

Did You Catch That?...

How fast the images
     fly past;
     grasping at words,
     glances of the Infinite,
     a lifetime contained in a minute,
     a moment,
     of prayerful Hopes sent
     skyward
     then back down,
     if deemed worthy,
     then ink spent on paper
     to share the Vision
     or just Thoughts
     passing my way...
Of Winter's chill
     but old comforters
     that never lose their warmth,
     of a bobcat's fur gleaming
     in the bright Moonlight
     as he cleans his toes,
     one by one...
Why does this affect me so,
     how is it I am compelled to go
     deeper into The Wood,
     deeper into The Well go,
     'till I feel my lungs would burst
     but, yet again, I dive,
     yet again The Thirst
     that is never quenched,
     though, I, exhausted,
     spent and drenched
     continue onward,
     wandering, pondering?...         
          Jan. 11, 2015

Eve of What?...

Turn for a moment
     and the Vision is gone;
     though Memory remains,
     this,
     in the moments after,
     is what tells the Tale...
Trying in a hurried scrawl
     to write it down before
     he forgets it all,
     as he hears it,
     as he writes it down,
     in the cadence,
     in some kind of trance, it seems,
     as words flow
     without a moment's thought
     and within minutes
     a poem
     (for lack of better word)
     is born,
     or is it borne
     upon Messenger's shoulders,
     stooped and tired,
     to be left at your doorstep
     as he peers
     from behind a boulder?...
Not easy to express
     when you don't know
     what it is you're feeling;
     does ennui say it best?...
Harder still to share
     in the hopes someone understands
     and explains my words,
     slowly,
     to me...
          Dec. 31, 2014

The Donner Party it Ain't (-25 below)...

Snow-capped benches,
     the Gazebo
     looking almost Roman
     in its bearing
     with its cape of pristine white;
     what Delight
     during soft flurries
     as pedestrians hurry,
     faces showing such
     frustration and worry
     as seems to almost always happen
     every time it snows 'round here...
Have those forgotten just last year
     or perhaps recall
     the year before
     when, for some reason,
     you chose coat over jacket
     (and sometimes)
     you would rise
     and there would be ice
     to scrape from
     the windows of your car?...
It's called Winter, my Friend,
     yes, and if you're not ready
     your better catch up
     quick, fast and in hurry...
Nature against the ill-prepared;
     guess who wins?,
     it will do you in,
     it won't ask to come in,
     it will just steal your breath away;
     be Wise and stay alive
     or from the Ghost Wood
     just stay away...
          Jan. 9, 2015

Naugatuck Valley...

Street lights like Stars
     twinkling, this time,
     from below
     and not from afar
     when the traffic lights
     still blink red,
     all but a few
     asleep in their beds,
     a few Souls
     for different reasons wake...
I Rise to Rest
     before Day
     and the World
     tries to take from me
     what it would make of me
     to suit its needs;
     but that is not for me...
I go to Earth,
     dance upon stones
     in the stream,
     give and take
     with some branches
     before me;
     break off the Dead,
     they are no use to the Tree,
     gently move young ones,
     wondering what,
     in the coming years,
     I may see...
          Dec. 27, 2014

Not Just Music (Soothes the Savage Breast)...

A Night Afield
     and Off-Grid
     at half past
The Witching Hour
     when Night will not get colder:
     in a way, Day has begun,
     though Birds have not yet sung,
     just Wind and in the distance
     the somehow soothing sound
     of tires on asphalt,
     of Waves landing
     on an unseen beach;
     Ah, sometimes it's as if
     I've drank some Magic Potion
     or chewed on Mystical
     and familiar roots...
Take me back
     to the Time
     that was never mine;
     to the Days
     and the Ways
     I long to live;
     give me a quiver of arrows,
     a bow,
     a sling shot,
     a good knife,
     a hatchet
     and a winter bed roll
     and by sundown
     camp will be ready;
     I'll try to have squirrel roasting,
     bring red wine...
             Jan. 5, 2015

You, Didn't Say Someting?...

Wondering
     if and how
     I delude myself;
     if my rudeness in response
     to rudeness
     could not be restrained
     and I realize,
     that at a certain point,
     I no longer matters,
     that all is useless chatter
     trying to explain the hurt
     one feels, which was never
     taken into account
     in the first place,
     the other's lack of consideration
     only heightens the hurt
     that grows to insult,
     then to anger
     and all that remains
     is argument, 
     not over the original issue
     but the emotional response
     and that is a battle never won,
     for who will concede
     their emotions were baseless?...
  Words are unique to man;
     a World of misunderstanding
     in a word, in a tone mistakenly taken;
     sometimes I feel better to live alone
     than to be misunderstood
     but, then, no one really talks anymore
     and fewer Listen...
                 Jan. 3, 2015

Nobody Asked Me, Just Saying...

Listless eyes no longer,
     with head downcast,
     yes,
     but determined
     yet again,
     no this Time
     it is the Last;
     the last time misunderstood
     for I will watch longer,
     make sure the case is stronger
     for what is more Powerful
     than One who lies to themselves?; 
     the Casual Observer
     soon loses himself
     what he sees
     in the maze of angry comments,
     frustrated cries and sotto voce insults
     and desperate looks in eyes,
     pleading without know the need,
     for when you don't recognize
     the issue at hand
     it's like trying to mend the fence
     without first clearing the brush...
Rome was not built in a day,
     neither did it fall into ruin overnight,
     it was a long time in decay;
     the choice was obvious,
     stay and rebuild
     or just move away
    and wake to another sunrise...
Shake yourself, wake yourself,
     you're not as you would have yourself,
     have a laugh or cry over yourself
     and change yourself first,
     then do the best you can...
               Jan. 2, 2015

New Year, Less Fear...

Sun too bright
     to gaze upon
     before First Light
     sends beams
     across the lawn
     still, not a bird heard
     nor lit upon
     the ground that lies frozen,
     for Winter chose last Night
     to touch his hand
     upon the Land,
     to show his raw Power
    without the need of Snow...
Here, is ice
     beneath the leaves;
     careful lest you
     land down on your knees,
     or worse,
     all I ask
     is that you take
     step back
     if you are unsure...
First Lesson, of the Year?...
perhaps,
sometimes the first thought
is the right thought...
            Jan. 1, 2015