Flowing, floating, drifting with the tide, the currents, the Fates;
we all embark on Life's adventure in canoes of flesh, of birch bark,
of thought.
Eddies, riffles, whirlpools sometimes torment us; sometimes
they enervate us, while other times they simply enrapture us
with their beauty & simple complexity.
Each obstacle strengthens us & wizens us to be wary of the next
which always comes when not expected.
At length, when our canoe slides to its last embankment
we depart.
Look back & take note your journey. Silently thank the craft
which bore you upon waters both still & treacherous.
Enjoy the ride!
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Dust
What might the dust be 'neath these feet
which carry me 'long Life's path? Nourishing
soil from a victory garden lovingly tended
during the World's last Great War, or maybe
an eternal comet's scraps drifted down when
last it streaked an ancient night sky?
Could you be, O dust, dregs of a hole dug
two millenia ago in which a wooden cross sat
waiting for its single occupant?
Simple dust at wind's mercy; blown toward
the heavens at Trinity, patted into a child's
lovingly made mud pie, trodden from rainy jungle
and sun-fried desert to permafrosted tundra.
Then, amid tears, clutched in hand saddened by
loss, a bit of you is tossed down to bid 'bye
on coffin's lid. Shovels full join you, cover you,
bury you.
Slumber for a time, O dust.... you will
return.
which carry me 'long Life's path? Nourishing
soil from a victory garden lovingly tended
during the World's last Great War, or maybe
an eternal comet's scraps drifted down when
last it streaked an ancient night sky?
Could you be, O dust, dregs of a hole dug
two millenia ago in which a wooden cross sat
waiting for its single occupant?
Simple dust at wind's mercy; blown toward
the heavens at Trinity, patted into a child's
lovingly made mud pie, trodden from rainy jungle
and sun-fried desert to permafrosted tundra.
Then, amid tears, clutched in hand saddened by
loss, a bit of you is tossed down to bid 'bye
on coffin's lid. Shovels full join you, cover you,
bury you.
Slumber for a time, O dust.... you will
return.
World Inside A Snowflake
Cold it may be
or possibly not.
There may be treats there,
but sweets? Not a lot.
To hold one is ludicrous;
foolish & not done!
But oh, what beauty be
contained in just one.
Wonder if they parade
in their tiny town squares?
Do they have Snow Queens
to preside over such affairs?
What of their government?
Their proud heads of state?
With brief lives from
cloud to ground,
Why worry their fate?
Take from the snowflake
its single joy in living:
to be seen or not, it's
most happy in giving
a peek at the endless,
wondrous worlds they create;
that single, lone, mighty snowflake.
or possibly not.
There may be treats there,
but sweets? Not a lot.
To hold one is ludicrous;
foolish & not done!
But oh, what beauty be
contained in just one.
Wonder if they parade
in their tiny town squares?
Do they have Snow Queens
to preside over such affairs?
What of their government?
Their proud heads of state?
With brief lives from
cloud to ground,
Why worry their fate?
Take from the snowflake
its single joy in living:
to be seen or not, it's
most happy in giving
a peek at the endless,
wondrous worlds they create;
that single, lone, mighty snowflake.
Christmases
Cold wet streets seem not to feel the holiday
while dustings of snow make collars be pulled close.
Wind swirls the frost from city to country
and back again in endless winter's breath.
Bright silver gold tinsel antique ornaments
placed on sweet smelling evergreens while
fireplaces fill warm rooms with glowing comfort.
Freezing room in a slum lit only by a candle
housing a mother with four hungry mouths
and not enough canned feast for them all but they quietly sing
Silent Night.
Which one is the real Christmas?
while dustings of snow make collars be pulled close.
Wind swirls the frost from city to country
and back again in endless winter's breath.
Bright silver gold tinsel antique ornaments
placed on sweet smelling evergreens while
fireplaces fill warm rooms with glowing comfort.
Freezing room in a slum lit only by a candle
housing a mother with four hungry mouths
and not enough canned feast for them all but they quietly sing
Silent Night.
Which one is the real Christmas?
Love Me Not
When love is taken away
by one who professed their love,
What's left for one to feel?
A slap from an empty silk glove.
That glove once held your hand
which also held my heart;
a heart which loved you dearly,
& sincerely 'til you decided to depart.
Loneliness has an ageless face;
what once was two, now one.
The stars at night, the clouds of day;
Nature's beauty seems all undone.
The world's luster now dimmed,
to awake brings only dread.
Please God, grant me the favor
of ridding her memory from my head!
You no longer deserve my love
which you tossed carelessly away.
The single thought which carried me
is that tomorrow's another day.
by one who professed their love,
What's left for one to feel?
A slap from an empty silk glove.
That glove once held your hand
which also held my heart;
a heart which loved you dearly,
& sincerely 'til you decided to depart.
Loneliness has an ageless face;
what once was two, now one.
The stars at night, the clouds of day;
Nature's beauty seems all undone.
The world's luster now dimmed,
to awake brings only dread.
Please God, grant me the favor
of ridding her memory from my head!
You no longer deserve my love
which you tossed carelessly away.
The single thought which carried me
is that tomorrow's another day.
Lost Love
Feeling this way I cannot endure so I search for
respite in another's embrace, but 'tis not enjoyed.
Your love is no longer mine, so all I have
left are memories made sweeter & more
painful with absence.
From feminine softness to hard loneliness you
have cast me. You found it most simple to discard me & to
sever the emotions we shared over many years.
I don't begrudge you happiness so richly you deserve;
my only wish is that my touch could stir passionas it once did;
the fire & afterglow now distant ghosts of our love.
Sadly, no embrace can stir my heart & soul as yours.
Love tastes bitter & will ne'er be savored again.
respite in another's embrace, but 'tis not enjoyed.
Your love is no longer mine, so all I have
left are memories made sweeter & more
painful with absence.
From feminine softness to hard loneliness you
have cast me. You found it most simple to discard me & to
sever the emotions we shared over many years.
I don't begrudge you happiness so richly you deserve;
my only wish is that my touch could stir passionas it once did;
the fire & afterglow now distant ghosts of our love.
Sadly, no embrace can stir my heart & soul as yours.
Love tastes bitter & will ne'er be savored again.
Strength
The strongest of women, the mightiest of men
flex muscle & sinew time & again
in demonstrations of effort awesome to behold
yet matters of love often create cowards of the bold.
Iron bars are bent, great weights are lifted;
yet break their hearts & what remains must be sifted
for traces of life, for signs even of a soul.
Nothing remains of their spirit; not even the cold.
A hollow, a void, an endless black hole
is all that is left in the heart & the soul
of the poor victim of abandonment, of betrayal, of rejection.
Pity this person bereft of affection.
Their days are filled with wandering & wondering
of what might've been done to stay their mate's yondering.
Dwelling on pain, though, is unwise & a waste;
best to forget & remember your place.
Live for today, seek to be strong;
nothing can come of remembering the wrong.
Harden your heart on the anvil of compassion;
the reward will come when you find your true passion.
flex muscle & sinew time & again
in demonstrations of effort awesome to behold
yet matters of love often create cowards of the bold.
Iron bars are bent, great weights are lifted;
yet break their hearts & what remains must be sifted
for traces of life, for signs even of a soul.
Nothing remains of their spirit; not even the cold.
A hollow, a void, an endless black hole
is all that is left in the heart & the soul
of the poor victim of abandonment, of betrayal, of rejection.
Pity this person bereft of affection.
Their days are filled with wandering & wondering
of what might've been done to stay their mate's yondering.
Dwelling on pain, though, is unwise & a waste;
best to forget & remember your place.
Live for today, seek to be strong;
nothing can come of remembering the wrong.
Harden your heart on the anvil of compassion;
the reward will come when you find your true passion.
When Your Love Loves Another
I thought that I'd forgotten the sweetness of her lips,
the softness of her body, the perfection of her hips.
I thought that I'd forgotten all the joys & laughter & pleasures;
the world had bundled up for me its finest, rarest treasures.
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder;
what total, useless, absolute rot!
Absence is sometimes heaven-sent
when trying to forget what one cannot.
The harder I tried, the more I failed to lose memories of her;
the way she moved, her smile & even the way she'd softly purr
while making love beneath the stars, or clouds so full of thunder.
Now all I feel are love & hate which tear my soul asunder.
Blending sweet past with bitter present is tasteless;
the recipe best be left undone.
For those who attempt such a dish,
the flavor offends the tongue.
How does one excise from one's heart the emptiness of being alone?
The moment 'fore I slip to slumber does escape a single moan;
a soft cry of desperation barely noticed in endless shadows of dark night.
I pray again sweet forgetfulness bless me when comes dawn eternal light.
the softness of her body, the perfection of her hips.
I thought that I'd forgotten all the joys & laughter & pleasures;
the world had bundled up for me its finest, rarest treasures.
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder;
what total, useless, absolute rot!
Absence is sometimes heaven-sent
when trying to forget what one cannot.
The harder I tried, the more I failed to lose memories of her;
the way she moved, her smile & even the way she'd softly purr
while making love beneath the stars, or clouds so full of thunder.
Now all I feel are love & hate which tear my soul asunder.
Blending sweet past with bitter present is tasteless;
the recipe best be left undone.
For those who attempt such a dish,
the flavor offends the tongue.
How does one excise from one's heart the emptiness of being alone?
The moment 'fore I slip to slumber does escape a single moan;
a soft cry of desperation barely noticed in endless shadows of dark night.
I pray again sweet forgetfulness bless me when comes dawn eternal light.
Trophy
What can this be which teases me so?
Submerged; hidden; no way to know!
Fear tinged with mystery, perhaps a bit of excitement
fills me with insatiable cravings for enlight'ment.
Pull... tug... yank & sheer fight
exhaust my arms beyond the limits of might!
This battle of wills from which only one'd be victorious
would determine the Hereafter for the lesser one of us....
The sun shone warm on that fateful day
when Nature struck back in a most curious way.
The water be deep 'neath the waves & the spray
where I was dragged by the one that did not get away.
If Time could be turned & wound back at all
I wouldn't be hanging on this fish's wall.
Submerged; hidden; no way to know!
Fear tinged with mystery, perhaps a bit of excitement
fills me with insatiable cravings for enlight'ment.
Pull... tug... yank & sheer fight
exhaust my arms beyond the limits of might!
This battle of wills from which only one'd be victorious
would determine the Hereafter for the lesser one of us....
The sun shone warm on that fateful day
when Nature struck back in a most curious way.
The water be deep 'neath the waves & the spray
where I was dragged by the one that did not get away.
If Time could be turned & wound back at all
I wouldn't be hanging on this fish's wall.
Love of Cooking
Creation, whether with words or with food;
good feelings it instills to one's own mood.
Sonatas, stanzas, prose or maybe rhyme;
Pasta, vegetables, pepper, salt, thyme.
An idea put to pen & then paper;
Hunger & craving goes in stewpot to savor.
Mix each one with love, with skill, with a fire
to please those around you; make them desire
for just one more taste 'til they're full & quite sated
from enjoying what you've proudly & happily created.
good feelings it instills to one's own mood.
Sonatas, stanzas, prose or maybe rhyme;
Pasta, vegetables, pepper, salt, thyme.
An idea put to pen & then paper;
Hunger & craving goes in stewpot to savor.
Mix each one with love, with skill, with a fire
to please those around you; make them desire
for just one more taste 'til they're full & quite sated
from enjoying what you've proudly & happily created.
America the Survivor
Morning saw the sky lit purple, red & grey
with clouds, dust & fear beginning the day
for hundreds of people all thinking one thought;
Pray let me see dusk; let this war be well fought!
To rid us England's taxes; to send home Her Royal troops
this country must muster to defend our freedom's hopes
for future children to enjoy what today we die for;
what could they wish, want, crave & seek more?
Hundreds o' years later dawns yet another ominous day;
'Tis September Eleventh of the first year, second Milleniae.
Both spires have descended, the Pentagon still aflame,
a Pennsylvania field's consecrated in terrorism's name.
Standing tall, proud & vigilant in New York's welcoming bay
the Statue of Liberty, witnessing the horrors that hideous day.
She cried out silently, Her voice would be unheard
to warn of cowards' deeds so insanely absurd.
Think as they might to despoil Freedom's right
of the desire to live as one wishes, to live as we might
enjoy the freedom to safely live, work & play
in whatever manner we legally may.
Devils they be in their wish to destroy
the idea that with America they can toy,
harass & murder the innocents living within.
Don't they know they can't possibly win?
with clouds, dust & fear beginning the day
for hundreds of people all thinking one thought;
Pray let me see dusk; let this war be well fought!
To rid us England's taxes; to send home Her Royal troops
this country must muster to defend our freedom's hopes
for future children to enjoy what today we die for;
what could they wish, want, crave & seek more?
Hundreds o' years later dawns yet another ominous day;
'Tis September Eleventh of the first year, second Milleniae.
Both spires have descended, the Pentagon still aflame,
a Pennsylvania field's consecrated in terrorism's name.
Standing tall, proud & vigilant in New York's welcoming bay
the Statue of Liberty, witnessing the horrors that hideous day.
She cried out silently, Her voice would be unheard
to warn of cowards' deeds so insanely absurd.
Think as they might to despoil Freedom's right
of the desire to live as one wishes, to live as we might
enjoy the freedom to safely live, work & play
in whatever manner we legally may.
Devils they be in their wish to destroy
the idea that with America they can toy,
harass & murder the innocents living within.
Don't they know they can't possibly win?
The Art of Lost Love
Time & time & time again
you painted Love's landscape from palettes of sin.
Your canvas: my heart pulled taut & stretched tight
the frame of my passion no longer alight
with desire for you; you tossed it aside
when another's smile you longingly eyed.
Why seek you my pain?
'Tis all left of your reign;
your Queendom's long past,
my love long-starved from this terrible fast.
No longer do I dream, nor live for the night
when your visits to my heart filled my soul with pure light
of Fantasy's treasures; of the sweetness you possess.
Nevermore shall I see you, if God my soul bless.
you painted Love's landscape from palettes of sin.
Your canvas: my heart pulled taut & stretched tight
the frame of my passion no longer alight
with desire for you; you tossed it aside
when another's smile you longingly eyed.
Why seek you my pain?
'Tis all left of your reign;
your Queendom's long past,
my love long-starved from this terrible fast.
No longer do I dream, nor live for the night
when your visits to my heart filled my soul with pure light
of Fantasy's treasures; of the sweetness you possess.
Nevermore shall I see you, if God my soul bless.
Dream Weather
Snow falling in my dreams
Cold & lovely so it seems
'til rain & thunder, blowing storm;
the harshest weather be the norm'.
Why doth slumber choose its time
to stir such fury through my mind?
Happily watching, I spend all day
witnessing snowflake & wind at play,
swirling & frolicking in chilly delight;
I love them so to visit at night!
Rainstorm has its place as well,
but why? I really, truly cannot tell.
Perhaps the message they wish to speak
is to be bold & daring; don't be meek!
Live each day as if t'were the last,
for once 'tis over, your time has passed.
Cold & lovely so it seems
'til rain & thunder, blowing storm;
the harshest weather be the norm'.
Why doth slumber choose its time
to stir such fury through my mind?
Happily watching, I spend all day
witnessing snowflake & wind at play,
swirling & frolicking in chilly delight;
I love them so to visit at night!
Rainstorm has its place as well,
but why? I really, truly cannot tell.
Perhaps the message they wish to speak
is to be bold & daring; don't be meek!
Live each day as if t'were the last,
for once 'tis over, your time has passed.
Love/ Hate
The sweetest emotion to e'er be tasted
is love; plain & simple, which should ne'er be wasted
upon those who feast on causing heartfelt pain;
those same individuals enjoy sharing the same.
To dance, to love, to show another you care;
all these & more do two lovers share.
But watch close your feelings when one seeks to harm
through mistrust, deceit; with the devil's own charm!
What begins as feelings which are surely Heaven-sent
can turn love to pure hate in a flash of hell-bent.
Holy Proclamation is Love stronger than Hate;
then why does my heart suffer so of late?
Supposedly, what doesn't kill makes one much stronger.
If true, then why does pain seem to dwell so much longer?
is love; plain & simple, which should ne'er be wasted
upon those who feast on causing heartfelt pain;
those same individuals enjoy sharing the same.
To dance, to love, to show another you care;
all these & more do two lovers share.
But watch close your feelings when one seeks to harm
through mistrust, deceit; with the devil's own charm!
What begins as feelings which are surely Heaven-sent
can turn love to pure hate in a flash of hell-bent.
Holy Proclamation is Love stronger than Hate;
then why does my heart suffer so of late?
Supposedly, what doesn't kill makes one much stronger.
If true, then why does pain seem to dwell so much longer?
Tattoo
The buzzing stab of artistic perfection reflects fears, dreams,
loves, hates upon bodies in-toto;
arms, backs, thighs all canvas & marble which bespeak
artisan's skill & eye.
Tiger, angel, Popeye & flaming skull all go dancing, crouching,
flying about with individuality & contempt to awe, amuse,
impress the viewer. From tiny blossom or lover's heart
to intricately writhing designs they crawl over their
owner's shell, moving with each breath, each step
with lives of their own.
Tattoo, thou art mine.
loves, hates upon bodies in-toto;
arms, backs, thighs all canvas & marble which bespeak
artisan's skill & eye.
Tiger, angel, Popeye & flaming skull all go dancing, crouching,
flying about with individuality & contempt to awe, amuse,
impress the viewer. From tiny blossom or lover's heart
to intricately writhing designs they crawl over their
owner's shell, moving with each breath, each step
with lives of their own.
Tattoo, thou art mine.
Rainy Day Thoughts
What is it a rainy day does to my soul? Clouds low; dark & full of sorrow perhaps? Nay, 'tis closer to a feeling of anticipation, of being washed anew & revived after a lifetime of dry, stagnant doldrums.... a rebirth following storm & chaos; a new world in which to grow strong & wise. Do not squander Act Two in the Play of Life, for rarely is there a Third....
Trees cast low their eyes to watch puddles form during the rain, the delicious wetness feeding them for another hundred years. Child casts low her eyes to watch puddles form during the rain, eager to splash bare feet & wiggle toes in gooey mud. Old man casts low his tired, gray eyes to watch puddles form during the rain, tiny rivulets dampening the soil in which he'll soon rest. The World casts low its eyes to watch puddles form during the rain, just 'cause so much can be found in one.
Beautiful Day begins with Sun! Midmorning darkens as Cloud slips silently over the horizon to mask Sun's brilliance. Cloud, in bold daring, spits forth Lightning to cower puny mortals into scurrying for cover! Flash & Thunder precedes Rain as Cloud laughs turmoil & torrent down to drench & nourish all below.... Exhausted, Cloud departs with the promise to return when needed, then relinquishes Stage once again to Sun. Beautiful, radiant Sun.
Thank you all. The Play Eternal carries on....
Trees cast low their eyes to watch puddles form during the rain, the delicious wetness feeding them for another hundred years. Child casts low her eyes to watch puddles form during the rain, eager to splash bare feet & wiggle toes in gooey mud. Old man casts low his tired, gray eyes to watch puddles form during the rain, tiny rivulets dampening the soil in which he'll soon rest. The World casts low its eyes to watch puddles form during the rain, just 'cause so much can be found in one.
Beautiful Day begins with Sun! Midmorning darkens as Cloud slips silently over the horizon to mask Sun's brilliance. Cloud, in bold daring, spits forth Lightning to cower puny mortals into scurrying for cover! Flash & Thunder precedes Rain as Cloud laughs turmoil & torrent down to drench & nourish all below.... Exhausted, Cloud departs with the promise to return when needed, then relinquishes Stage once again to Sun. Beautiful, radiant Sun.
Thank you all. The Play Eternal carries on....
Seasons of a Southern Dream Forest
The depths of shadowed green caressed my wandering soul which visited these forests while my dreams hungrily grazed upon succulent leaves & shoots of hopes & fantasy.
My childhood built many a summer's treehouse/come fortress/come castle among the eldest residents of this nightly renewed community made whole once sleep rendered forth, their immeasurable height seeming to reach in harvest of the stars.
Fall was a special season which dressed my forests yellow, orange, red & pale gold in tie-dyed soft, crunching carpets made for leaf diving; they felt especially wonderful on their irritating forays down my shirt to tickle into unreachable regions. Winds cool & refreshing swirled them about in endless patterns of hypnotic chaos; their last parade before the silence of winter's breath stilled them....
Heavy lay the freezing frosty quilt o'er limb, branch, trunk, ground. When dreams visited during this season, loneliness was my companion. The residents were snow-smothered, as well as my ever warm treehouse, for I conveniently always dreamt a small, red-glowing potbelly stove into it to warm my childhood hands when icy thoughts steered my slumbering images to winter.
Spring, then summer would return the green of life eternal to my dream forest; always my special forest which held me safe as a child, which comforts me now as a man, which will be my Heaven when I slumber forever....
My childhood built many a summer's treehouse/come fortress/come castle among the eldest residents of this nightly renewed community made whole once sleep rendered forth, their immeasurable height seeming to reach in harvest of the stars.
Fall was a special season which dressed my forests yellow, orange, red & pale gold in tie-dyed soft, crunching carpets made for leaf diving; they felt especially wonderful on their irritating forays down my shirt to tickle into unreachable regions. Winds cool & refreshing swirled them about in endless patterns of hypnotic chaos; their last parade before the silence of winter's breath stilled them....
Heavy lay the freezing frosty quilt o'er limb, branch, trunk, ground. When dreams visited during this season, loneliness was my companion. The residents were snow-smothered, as well as my ever warm treehouse, for I conveniently always dreamt a small, red-glowing potbelly stove into it to warm my childhood hands when icy thoughts steered my slumbering images to winter.
Spring, then summer would return the green of life eternal to my dream forest; always my special forest which held me safe as a child, which comforts me now as a man, which will be my Heaven when I slumber forever....
The Fort
Ancient walls mortared with enslaved hands to guard southern shores 'gainst ships of the Realm hellbent on conquest and possession sail'd from distant port to face her cannonfire and ultimate defeat where was born "Damned the torpedoes, full speed ahead!"
This nation's dispute o'er hands which built her loudly resounded, clashing brother 'gainst brother as American blood, both Northern and Southern, tinted crimson the foam-lapp'd nearby shores. The sea tasted salty tears of loss from both sides and she finally welcomed that war's end....
Forgotten by all but sand and seabirds, she rang once again with shouted orders and ready soldiers anticipating angry shells fired seaward to fend off enemy ships both above and beneath the waves. A few year's time saw her returned to sand and sea; shushing wave and blowing winds the only sounds marching her empty corridors.
Now the old fort listens to wandering feet and awed children's whispers 'gainst weathered and shot-battered walls. Echoes of the past seem not to fit in this peaceful place warmed by summer sun as this teller savors day's end from Fort Morgan on Alabama's gulf coast. Come visit this grand old Southern Lady. Come fall in love with her as I did long ago....
This nation's dispute o'er hands which built her loudly resounded, clashing brother 'gainst brother as American blood, both Northern and Southern, tinted crimson the foam-lapp'd nearby shores. The sea tasted salty tears of loss from both sides and she finally welcomed that war's end....
Forgotten by all but sand and seabirds, she rang once again with shouted orders and ready soldiers anticipating angry shells fired seaward to fend off enemy ships both above and beneath the waves. A few year's time saw her returned to sand and sea; shushing wave and blowing winds the only sounds marching her empty corridors.
Now the old fort listens to wandering feet and awed children's whispers 'gainst weathered and shot-battered walls. Echoes of the past seem not to fit in this peaceful place warmed by summer sun as this teller savors day's end from Fort Morgan on Alabama's gulf coast. Come visit this grand old Southern Lady. Come fall in love with her as I did long ago....
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