Wednesday, June 27, 2007

A Lovely Life

...And another one, also somber.

My lovely life
Cried tears
When the death it feared
Came at last

My lovely death
Left those I loved
Crying tears
For what I was

But in that last moment
When memory blends
During that last moment
Before life dims
I realized this lovely life
I lived
Was magical

I realized this lovely life
I lived
Was lovely

So very lovely

And I did not cry no more
For what was
Or what could’ve been
I but prayed and prayed
To be born once more
To be born to live this life again

"Raising Daffodils"

Life is evanescent. Momentary. Like the wind it comes and goes. Today is a rather somber day for me. My gramps is in the hospital in sore shape. Whether or not he makes it will depend on how much fight he has left in him. So I post a sad poem I wrote years ago.

My memories hum a tune I can’t hear, only feel
the night plays on my mind as well as the sky
the stars flicker and dance like the rustle of leafs
My eyes linger on the chasm whose teeth chatter
to the cold breath of wind that wafts of fall

I sniff in the fragrance of rain just fallen
my eyes search raindrops for conscious thought
but reflections of clouds cover hope
leaving echoes of summer’s sweet memory to fill my nose
with the scent of daffodils

An old trees carcass lays where a young sapling
grows through broken branches
I cast its grey‑weathered bones between dangling feet
I hear them shatter on rock and splash into river
my startled breath fills me with the earthy tang of rotting leafs
I look up at the moon riding towards the horizon
and see the leafs raining, tumbling towards the Earth

I find one, reddish‑yellow tipped in green
In my hand, swallowed by stars, the light plays with my eyes
and my mind imagines the dead leafs veins pulsing
and my own heart beats in stride, beating until my face is blushed
and my own two hands full of foliage reach up to the sky
where my own body becomes more weighted and tied to the earth
where my own legs become more laden and rooted to the land
where my own emotion becomes more raw and hewn to the seasons
where I am induced to reach as high as I can

HIGHER still
so that the leaves would again turn green and wave to summer breeze
to once more be full of life’s blood and breathing!

But the wind blows and my arms weaken
the rain falls, and I weaken!
This terrible wind continues to bite fiercer and a torrential rain descends in sheets
burdening me
until at last I fall to the ground disgusted
clawing my fingers into the dark soil in search of meaning
in search of anything that would mean more than the past
digging so that I could leave what I couldn’t forget
leaving it so I could move on toward to morrows worth living
forgetting so I could remember
grieving so I could move on

Days turn to months, seasons turn to years
and a young man now old visits the cliff near the daffodils
and recalls memories of past friends and family, past loves and lost youth
each time watering and cultivating the past
so it will not be forgotten

Tuesday, June 26, 2007


Time plods on. It doesn't stop. We live and love and hope and be, but time just continues on plodding. Eventually we are nothing, forgotten, but each of us do live on in those that remain behind. We inspire. We give courage. We humble. We give hope. We leave everything that we are in all that we've done.

So much mystery out there
ain’t none of it I’m aware
my heart beats constant
my mind thinks silently
my feet tread lightly
my hands are steady
my vision on the next day
and in the end
I was merely a wisp of wind
A leaf shook from a tree
fertilizer for a seed
mayhap the grits for another to dream

Friday, June 22, 2007


Without struggle you are nothing
without fear you are nothing
without emotion to drive you
you are NOTHING
Without pain you have no pleasure
without hate you have no love
without life breathing inside you
there are no tears to blind you
no mistakes to forget
no wrongs to make right
Nothing, not a damn thing to hide from
no skeletons in the closet
little children to fear bedtime stories
no lies, no loves, no hope, no hate
no ideas or art; no hell or heaven
because nothing is given but life
and only at death do you discover the measure of it
that which really meant
that which arms you with the weapons to face your lonely path

The Changer

We have a propensity to be good. But life isn't always good. It takes each and every one of us doing our part to keep it that way.

I sit tranquil
resting on a rock
I gaze over hills
while deep in thought

I then say,
“What a good world
on this and every other day
such a good world”

Oh and the power I feel
during these moments of peace
Where my mind can heal
and I can remain at ease

“Yes,” I venture, “the peace
is the temptation of the mind
The tranquility of release
you feel inside

Oh, but callus is the nature
fated to be torn
To an end peace must venture
to that of war”

I then say,
What a sad world
on this and every other day
such a sad world”

Oh, and my heart beats strong
spurred by anger
because I long
for a changer

A man, woman, or child
you, I or anyone else
who can transform the world
and shield us from malice

And break the bonds
the chains we wear
And end the wrongs
those that we all share

I then close my eyes
and breathe in
Where upon I realize
we are changing

When peace turns to war
soon war will no longer be
Because when life is at its very worst
we remember that there is indeed a peace

And that we will go to any length
to restore it
Any length at all
to regain it

And yet constantly we bicker
and fight amongst each other
I fear it is but our nature
to battle one another

Or maybe it is our animalistic urge
or downright hate
Something we will never learn
because it is our fate

But is that too definite
too simple an answer
Can we not remedy our sickness
and cure this cancer?

....and somehow find our changer
Everyday I wait
And wonder
“Is it yet too late?”

Because peace is so fragile
so easy to break
And to turn to turmoil
chaos and hate

Slowly my eyes open
and I lift from my rock
I smile at my fortune
Because I have found what I have sought

And only in this very instant
did it come to me
Only in this last second
did I come to see

That the changer is not a creature
as in you or I
It is but nature
as in the land and the sky

And by following it’s rule
we will find that life is good
Precious and not cruel
and that it can be understood

“Yes,” I say aloft
to the trees, to the birds
“Yes,” I say aloft
To the bears, to the bees

“All of us together
make-up a living breathing nature
That which is the changer
who gives us life ... which is our great adventure ...."

A Sustainable Balance

Without struggle, we all remain the same. How then can one easily except struggle? It is in our best interests to remain comfortable and if such a thing is sustainable, content. But I am afraid neither is commendable of lasting for long. If so, long live the king and to him all the riches of the world. I have no such luck and no title to speak of. My way is that of the wolf - to hunt. Tomorrow is not guaranteed and all yesterdays, a lesson in survival of life’s ultimate changer. Now here comes the kicker: with change comes struggle, with struggle comes survival, and in survival there are the hunters and the hunted. Watch your back and keep your head high enough to see the road ahead. There is nothing, none of this, that remains the same. We all struggle to attain this level of survival, but find that without change we are not content. Those who are not content find it difficult indeed to be at all as happy and joyous as they would wish to live their life. Find then a balance, not centered, but counter weighted and set off equilibrium, always in motion, not long at rest. As such, a sustainable struggle-to-sameness. Seek this, a bumpy and ever roundabout road to discover the city of peace and the king of happiness.

A YOUNG Mountain climber

The mountains are full of emotion. Their monolithic stature leave men to praise their power. Snow and rock like armor protect the beast and this vision of grandeur pulls men to their footsteps to test their manhood. These mainstays are like women, they teach us that we are only men.

I scream,
I reach out,
But air is all I grasp at,
No hand reaches out to save me,
No burst of wind rights me,
And no god above to save me,
With only oblivion beneath,
I die,
As a MAN,
And not the GOD,
Youth fooled me into believing I was…

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Alpine Fir

I imagine this tree caught facing each day from its lofty vantage, living not against nature, but humbled and willed to it by storm and sun. It's family flung below by those same forces and the patriarch, there, fighting a losing battle, but fighting all the same. That's what I think of when I see the highest most tree gripping the ridge far above all others. A true fighter. I can't help but respect that.

Back and forth I sway
a sunset burns and blazes
the sun turns and gazes
and I face the days and the moons many faces
My branches creak under the weight of snow
My limbs are tough, but I am old
This winter maybe next I will feel the cold
This summer the heat could sap me dry
Until then, speak not of the end
The sunrise comes
and I am amongst family and friends
high on a mountain ridge...

Monday, June 11, 2007

A THEME: The moment

Below I celebrate the MOMENT. I've picked random poems and parts of poems that I thought fit the theme.


Fear frolics with high places, dances on the edge of cliffed heights and cries out in the throws of desperation and danger. For where fear lurks, its hunger swallows up thought and casts it to hounds hungry for blood. This danger in our lives, adjusts the here and now, ratchets it into focus where, for the moment, it is our beast to tame. This wild thing so violently shaking its cage, is what blinds our thoughts of past and future and puts us on the course bound directly into the moment.


See the sun
Slowly slide down
Watch the horizon
Hone from the heavens
Collect you soul
Respect the moment…


I’ve come to realize
most lives are rhymes
like the blushed faced skies
moments that sweep over and remind

That now must be seized
and up and downs are part of the journey
That the moment cannot be left unpleased
and life doesn’t stop, it is always in a hurry


“Dream Dance”
--- moments pass and visions lance inside my head they dance
dreams of highest fantasy, no bounds to dash my fancy…


I know to live is to be loved
and to die is to be soon forgotten
but in this moment that beats - that really is life
You find the medicine that heals your woes
and wakens your mind?


When you can, live in the moment
When you have to, live in the future
and when you must, live in the past


I loath the dust of bones that rust
of memory now forgot,
of moments now washed away in time,
withered by these ocean waves that weep
into the wind
and splash moist like a kiss onto the face of me
now but a ghost of a man long dead
long forgotten.


Off I go
Another adventure
Another day
To forget the future
To live in the moment


Before sleep he envisions success and failure, he envisions challenge and conquest
but he is no fool. He realizes his limits. No mountain is worth dying on.
But there is an appeal beyond all of this. There is the moment that breaths
and is succored by the mountain in a way that the city drowns. He needs its companionship and craves its simplicity.


Can you imagine the fog on a cold sunny morning with the dew dangling – falling off the leaves of the beautiful yellow flower petal? Sure wish I knew the name of that flower. I’ve seen them since, but they never looked the same as they did that particular day. It makes me think that I was witness to a moment. A moment to me is one of those memories, a picture really, that never dies and always appears randomly. Yes, a beautiful thing that can put a smile on a sad face and make the sun shine even when it is raining outside. And yes, anyone can imagine my moment but only I was there on that particular morning. In life you must find your moments and hold on to them because they will take you through your dark days…


I think, then, that it is the moment that meets the man.


Everyone is going to die! Sometimes the true test of life is not in how long you've lived it, but rather in the moments not lost - but succored and nourished, poured from the vase like molasses to be cherished and fulfilled.


Don't lose track of now,
life doesn't have cruise control.
No sonic boom will sound.
It is the moment you must console.

Thursday, June 7, 2007

A moment apart

Beginnings and endings trouble me
one begets the other
all love between a blooming red flower
all everything something
maybe a cloud on the horizon
a field of wheat swaying
a falling star falling
a full moon staring
a tear raining
a gust of wind righting
a last man fighting
a cold snow blowing
a tired lion surrendering
a lioness left defending
a wounded man dying
a coward confiding
a chill December smiling
a woman birthing
a child learning
a million birds laughing
a orchestra enchanting
a song bewitching
a long summer slumbering
a starry speckled darkness confiding
a roaring creek rushing
a mighty fire roaring
a sunset falling
a sunrise rising
these beginnings and endings
leave me mulling so much
Maybe there are only these moments apart
that I alone can ever hope to understand?
With my heart booming loudly
I listen to its rhythmic beat
my thoughts swim away
and I forget the cloudy day
and I merely look toward
the next moment to which I am meeting

Monday, June 4, 2007

God's Balcony

Nature is a magical heroine and she permits us to see such beauty, boundless and without limit. Often I am caught in the city and find that days or weeks go by without a glance at the moon or stars, even at the sunrise or sunset. In nature these are unavoidable. They don't conflict or muddy your mind, but elighten and embolden you to experience your surroundings. Tiddy and comfortable in your home it is easy to ignore nature. She is your home, too, and we mustn't forget that!

I breath in nature, out the sound
pressure, struggle, pain, love, loss, hope, hate, courage, cowardice
abound here in the cage of lies
I adventure through the fog and clouds clinging to the sky of my mind
into a peace I ride into the sameness no longer creased.
Love is LOUD, she is released
and I am proud high on this mountain pass
where alpine grass chatters.
Like children, they sing, their laughs ring,
thunder sets their emotional cheer to a frenzy,
and, in the middle I listen to the symphony
there above, on god's balcony