Wednesday, August 22, 2018

The first


It slides and slithers, oh, just so,
before it disappears from feel
to leave a great and growing need
to once again be joined.

Not long until again it’s back
to quench the need and satisfy
and as the sun rises up
the day is greeted happily.

And in the pause before the next
it works its magic deep within
warming, holding, comforting,
and awakening the senses.

But for all that follow in its wake
none so special as the first
and how can humankind survive
without that first one of its kind?

Yes, it is, you guessed I’m sure.
It’s that hot and steaming freshly brewed
morning cup of coffee!

Friday, August 3, 2018

Village of Humanity


In a village of humanity where the children all grow old
double-sided rainbows weren’t expected every day
but suddenly in awe the inhabitants looked up
and radiated energy pulled the sky down to ground.

Blanketed in blue and shades of other hues
the energy confined boiled over into crime
and the mothers, fathers, children, as one became unglued
from a value system and the merit of kinship.

Up and out they struggled one by one alone to find
the earth no longer stable had become a rolling ball
from which they fell and tumbled into a foreign mode.

In adjusting to the temperature and the intensity of change
love became as water free flowing down a drain
and collected in deep pools beneath the earth’s crust.

There it bubbled, boiled, and today it bubbles, boils,
denied full release into the atmosphere
but through the hues of sky and me it erupts occasionally
and sends boulders, pebbles, rocks, flying everywhere.

Catch them … but they can’t
for love and foreign modes
are and will remain
incompatible!

Thursday, July 12, 2018

Indifference


Clouds creep up from the rear
like the natural march of indifference
intent on a search and destroy
of the sky’s so heavenly blue.

It’s a silent but deadly approach
like the reality of a ghost
unseen but felt and known to be
an ineffective and useless guard
at the heart’s unmarked border post.

So crosses indifference speedy and swift
into the haven of love’s settled state
a warrior, gunman, thief, murderer,
in rampant and raging disregard
for what is intended to be.

And the sky that once vibrant and blue
succumbs to a dim and dull overlay
like the eyes of love once fearlessly clear
now brushed with the strokes
of complete indifference.

Flutter, flutter, and I flutter eyelids
simply today to no avail
because indifference begets indifference
in terms of section one hundred and three
of the perceived playact of life!

Saturday, July 7, 2018

The meaningful


She lurks on the side lines amazed and dismayed
and sometimes amused at how humans behave
when embroiled in life’s so many small things
that keep them distracted from the meaningful.

Yet too does the meaningful lurk in the shadows
always in hope of being found and discovered
and it waits and it waits, oh, how it waits
but it ages, you know, like we all do.

I wonder sometimes how it would be
if the meaningful died before being found
and how many would grieve and mourn the loss
when busy, so busy, with the small things.

Now small things exist; they do have a purpose,
but alone they become the “be and end all”
and create a sense of mere self-importance
in those who do not seek and discover.

But look in the shadows; feed the meaningful
and give to the small things enhanced purpose
so all of the things we do and will do
become plain and simply … meaningful!

Monday, April 23, 2018

Tuesday's story


The sun is setting quicker now
than ere it did before
in a hurry to say goodbye
to a world full of strife.

And the night is none too pleased
for it needs not to be
witness to the plot and plan
of what is yet to come.

As for stars they twinkle still
but call and beg the clouds
to hide their light from humankind
not deserving of the blessing.

The moon of course vacillates
sometimes granting love and joy
and sometimes saying, “No, no, no.
What a waste of energy.”

But energy doesn’t care.
it works its magic everywhere
but surely one day it will tire
and retire from the fray.

Then the wilt and wither;
the preamble to demise
and I wonder then if everyone
will know they overstepped the mark.

The mark, the mark!  Where is the mark?
It seems to veer and swerve about
according to the times
to leave mankind confused.

It’s good, it’s good, as only then
can one stop and think!

Sunday, March 18, 2018

The day


Wake up, wake up!  It’s artful day
knocking on your window pane
ready to lay claim to soul
and twist the truth into a lie.

So warm it feels and comfortable
like a much loved cashmere sweater
and we step into the day seemingly well-armed
and yet unprepared for what may befall.

For those who carry night into day
the lies stab the heart with ferocious intent
and sadness sinks down deep, deep, inside
when knowing that soul has no part to play.

So be it; it’s just a gigantic stage play
that keeps both audience and participants
totally wrapped up and enthralled
with the trivial and insignificant.

I watch from the side lines; sometimes I do,
and sometimes distance myself totally
but how hard it is to clap and cheer
those, oh, so many little things.

What purpose life if the meaningful lost
in the total onslaught of those little things
that causes the soul to disappear
and be as if it was not?

Thursday, March 15, 2018

Miracles


From out the ether they silently come
and drop their wares o’er humankind
not like a rock to stun and knock out
but like the whisper of a gentle breeze.

They return with a smile waiting to be
the recipients of thank you notes
but sadly there is no post today
and no post for many more days.

Undeterred they wait for just that one
who knows the breeze was a miracle
maybe small, maybe large, but indisputable
and finally, finally, the postman knocks.

It’s not that we’re blind; we just don’t see
the breeze that changes what could have been
so how can we thank what cannot be seen
in a world dismissive of miracles?

But, oh, we can feel, we most certainly can
and yet, and yet, we don’t connect dots
or take the time to think it strange
that what could have been now is not.

So write that letter (figuratively)
and don’t let the Postman be unemployed!