Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

There is more between us now
than there ever was before
More than merely Earth and Sky
and what we’re living for

I awoke to find it here
it had blossomed over night
and in the moonlight’s crystal mere
it had grown full breadth, full height

A towering impediment on folly built
from where its seeds were careless spread
to split the sky through borrowed silt
inside a flower bed

I stood before that awesome sight
for far too long a time
an intimidated stillness into my footsteps crept
for far too high a climb

So if patience be a virtue
and hesitation, crime
I hope that in my sad delay
not to have crossed so fine a line

And as I mount this laddered vine
to close this deadly breach
I hope that I’ll be there in time
and you’ve not gone beyond my reach

Now I start the journey long
and though my limbs are weak
perhaps from folly, fortunes song
and treasure may we reap

for never was there greater friend
than that which reads this now
and by adventure’s fabled end
find a tale to teach me how
to close this space between us grown
with the stories from my Heart
and its life giving, drumming beat
of which you are a part.


on May 29, 2013 in Poetry | No Comments »

It comes from behind as always this
disquieting of the mind.
Wooden arms and plastic backs
a Sea of faces concentrate
and think and I whirl and am verily
Focus becomes
Metal shimmers and the arms shutter for
the impatients
Eyes rolling internal the record plays
for the unhearing- word above word-
line beneath line up above and in be
between the silent home between page
and ink
where the sweet grass grows for picnics
and the soft songs are in the air for calming.
They cannot reach?
Buried- His Father- a voice from without.
The words be muddled and the walls are spinning
Response be on wings and passion rides as hope
Soon returned laugh I soon from
The darkness
Afraid to live in the sunlight for the
Creation lives not there
Too short a subtle blackness interrupting light
And leaves much in the confusion

How long this time? A week, a month?
What calendar or clock has marked the span that
I will spin wondrously destructive?
How many “thank you ma’am”- a simple boy
Too much emotion not enough heart, talk to me more
Stop ignoring me

I’m shouting expecting not to be heard

I must watch them walk away from my
Tattered self puzzled
It is more this time than it was before.
My mind, my back, my eyes, my legs all
in pain do lend themselves to the aching
and the chaos reigns when we miss the
rhythmic order of the beating.
Star in the north guide of the choice I
have sent you away
-no heart- paper planes and long
Highways gas is expensive can’t keep it
running- long lonely wait.
The shield arm is sealed in an
Ambassador of paper loved into a ladies hands.
Pretty eyes- pretty lips-
Kisses hidden in corners, but it’s not here now
Watch and wait, wait and hope
Tick-no-tock, time slides
Sideways to a realm where
The breaker of horses is gone quests alone
Mind directionless leads.
Watch the copper arrow spin as the
Others walk away
No sleep- too sleepy-
Saddle want and need and wait for that
Part…their conqueror
And smile a piece in disquiet perishable
And productive in its stay.

Written this Fourth day of October 2005


on May 29, 2013 in Poetry | No Comments »

When I am wandering alone
In the calm of dream see I
A wrinkled man, hair silver straight
Bearing tears and sighs

He calls to me with ancient grin
and “fear not” quoth he.
And step I forward troubled some
to see that he is me

We sit beside the river stream
to watch the water run
quietly he speaks to me
and this is how it was done

“Quiet now my lad, and utmost patiently,
for my time is short
and the angels fear
the words I have for thee”

Silent as a church-mouse
under steeple bell
I listened to his story
and this one did he tell.

“Innocent my boy you are,
and pleasant for a time.
I remember much too often
when the face you wear was mine.”

“This I know,” I called in jest
and spared for him a smile,
“What a simple thing you give to me
to cross so many miles.”

“Silence now!” his anger came,
“One warning now of three,”
I shuddered beneath his lasting glare
for I could not stand his mortal stare

“A girl to you will come quite soon,
her like but once you’ll meet
with golden sun reflecting hair
is kind and gentle and sweet”

An ache of pain came too his voice
for a reason I was soon to know
but sparing not a moments pause
on went the fearful story show

“Beneath the weight of moonlight dance
your love for her is grown
and in the span of days it seems
it sprouts like none that’s known.”

“And before the night of wedding vows
into her life does creep
the fated Father’s reaching hand
her soul to take and keep.”

His eyes were stained with bitter tears
and I would hear no more
I rose up from my solemn seat
and vowed to leave that shore

“Sit young one,” the other said
“that was but one of three,”
reluctantly I returned to sit
to hear the sorrow tale of me.

“After many a day in sorrow spent
and countless tears do fall
you’ll find yourself a soldier
and to the battlefield are called.

Something of a warrior made
few other’s skill will match
a cursed ownership of one hundred men
your valor this command does catch

Many a friend herein is made
though I’d rather you had none
as fate again chooses passes cruel
to stretch its hand for you

your party struck beneath the moon
while it sleeps with borrowed ease
by an enemies steady watchful eyes
that had come to watch you die.

That night you’ll hear a hundred screams
and those hundred screams grow cold
and a hundred graves you’ll be made to dig
for friends and soldiers bold.”

“Stop old one!” I shout in pain
“be your story false or true
but stay thy tongue and cease thy tale
for it cuts me like a winter’s hail!”

“Calm yourself, my young friend,”
said he with cautious frown,
“of the warnings the last of three
is of how you’re laid to ground.”

Though all inside me shunned the thought
and my conscience bid me part
I could not call myself to move
nor make my legs to walk.

The river which had sat us by
amidst our talk of time
now ran dry as desert day
and the sun now failed to shine.

“Now my boy, our journey’s end,”
said he with voice so low
“And know you will this sorrow tale
long before you go.

After love and after war
a beggar will you be
and walk upon the streets of gold
not a penny to spend hath thee.

You’ll wander and walk everywhere
no home to call your home.
The bareness bloodied on your naked feet,
lost and all alone

Til one day you’ll lose the fight
with death’s cold reaching hand
after a long and painful blackness tread
comes the day you’ll leave this land.

It is a tortured life you’ll lead
before your sentence done
and the life that is right now so young
you’ll soon begin to shun.”

At this I stand and shake my fist,
“What right to this have you?!
To lay so bare my life and times,
and all that I might do?

Before I leave your presence vile
and to my life I steal
all my feelings of your rancid tale
you’ll sit while I reveal.

Although your life is passed and gone
and this knowledge you think you cage
here is a lesson from your youth
you’ve corrupted with your age.

I will not fall , I will not flee
the hand God deals to me.
For the couraged life I seek to grow
will not be shorn for destiny

I left that man there crying still
beside that dried up river bed.
He laid his head upon his hands
to slip away in time’s white sands.

Once again in the waking world
of this meeting I did think
and more resolved I could not be
that life’s a cup I mean to drink.

Written playfully in high school


on May 29, 2013 in Poetry | No Comments »

On my bed at night I asked Him
why my heart loves-
I asked Him, but He did not answer.
I wondered how I could have earned this hurt;
so again I asked Him that I might know
Why my love should hurt.
This I asked Him, but He did not answer.
Then Arabella came upon me,
her wings about my head whispering;
Do you know why my love hurts?
she had scarcely flown away
when I felt the unheard answer.
It filled me with a wealth of faith beyond worth
that I have since clutched to my
joyous, tearful self
in my now restful sleeping.
The lesson from all my unrequited love
was never curse, but a feeling by Him shared
That I might understand and love Him
better in return.

[upon a reading of Song of Songs Ch.3 V:1-5]

As a Dream

on May 29, 2013 in Poetry | No Comments »

Steadily go I awake as one sleeping
to fade the painted marble steps of dream
and wade between the day and night
as a wind it passes is forgotten
am by all, and either, ignored

Just beyond the reach of memory in the waking
no matter how they’re sought
uncontrolled and undisciplined while you’re sleeping
no matter how they’re fought

I am as they are
living only truly in those unobserved hours
seen best in the periphery
and not at all otherwise

Let me sleep on,
let me sleep on,
for if you wake me
I will be gone

a touched and altered future
in a time of no defense
to set an expiration
on a tomorrow yet unsensed

She laid a marker on my final day
and sent me down a path
where a spindled death lay waiting
for my destined steps to pass

But another mark came later still
to smooth those sharpened teeth
with softened fate and loving cure
to sleep that mortal reach

And with that gift of borrowed time
the boatman’s fare was stayed
that I might sleep through threatened death
til my life, with love, is saved

With the full grown voices gathered still
she’s ushered off to bed
Tear stained disappointment at engineered unfairness
through the lights yet lit she’s led

Promises of better days are poured into her ears
to assuage the loss of nightly hours
while the mysterious majesty of child deprived dark
is peopled with unseen splendors stolen away

But there’s more to her reluctance
than her salt stained cheeks would tell
Something hidden in the fog of things that children know which,
worn away by the dangerous reassurance of an insubstantial frame
built from nothing, urges her eyes to fierce waking

It tells her not to trust in
any day that’s not today
or hold them to a promise
of a thing so far away

In metered time it rumbles
In her mind and on her skin
Like a wayfarer in the snowy past
Who begs to be let in

Now the nightlights stand as sentries
To a sentence sleepward passed
all of those so fragile minutes tenaciously bought flounder
as the weighty warmth of tender kisses and soft goodnights
topple her resolve

So with tomorrow racing towards her
and the light of dawn assured
it comes again to the last lands of flight and soul
where the final outpost stands

The days will come, and the days will go to erode away the walls
Til nothing’s left but a single stone
Where a single word is written
in that place a boy will grow
and on that stone be sitting

Until that time in dreams it stays
It’s message to her, his
That nothing in this life is certain
if the grown ups say it is

Inspired by Grace: Thanksgiving 2009


on May 29, 2013 in Poetry | No Comments »

Long is the trek from darkened wood
to child small and pine
that laid between a father’s hands
are shaped to mirrored features of undeserved reflected divinity

Unrelenting are the fingers
that with unrequited care
carve and fashion immortality
and fasten to that fragile frame gifts of incalculable worth

What a reward I must be
poor cut-stringed marionette that I am
for all your so precious hours
and invested hopefulness to have only inadequate thankfulness returned to you

That so undisciplined a first unled step
should towards mischief stride
and keep unkept time with disrespectful marching
so eager to escape the woodworkers shadow that out to nowhere
frantically my footsteps sped unknowing that, like the inescapable nighttime dark
is the expanse of lightless land cast by the bright upon your face.

And to think that
in my flight from that cool shade
I could not hear your thunderous
voice that to my rescue raced to purchase back at your own expense
the price I’d freely paid

Then, swallowed whole by a gaining dark
as your footsteps fell behind
the Ivory, arched, and biting teeth monstrously owned
I felt the burn of the unleashed sun that cooked my wayward skin

A bartered pass into those jaws
for I could not stand the heat
I bought a place beside you
as you shivered sadly looking down the lonely road
that stretched beyond my seeing to a place I could not go.

Here I’ll sit so near you
and in these hours keep you warm
this alone am I fit to give as you leave me for the storm
to fight the chill as moments fade and the cold comes creeping in
and bravely, proudly, rightly, set a fire to my skin

For never was their recompense
for your love unpaid, unearned
but to be the comfort no other can give, and to bring a little light
to one whom I’ve done so wrong
a happy thing this blaze will be
for a little boy who won’t be good
will gladly be your fire wood