Nomads

The nomads had it right.
To move through the world,
To any hill or valley in sight,
Under great cloud curls.

The nomads had it right.
to go or stay with the seasons,
As if blown like a loosed kite,
But moving within reason.

The nomads had it right.
There is poetry in their motion.
Or so I say tonight.
As I cross another ocean.

First Poem After Class

Now it is time to make a decision.
I remember not long ago
I couldn't even decide how to spell the word.
But every road has a cutlery set
which is at a loss for spoons and knives.
So, all must decide to keep one way
or leave for another and I am.

Leaving that is - - -

I have a hand to play and it starts
by discarding a card before drawing a new one.
Sometimes that's just the game the chance
that you walked away from something good.
You have to simply adjust and keep going
And I will move forward, that is a decision.
There are worse tragedies in life,

Than changing your mind - - -

Ekphrastic Poems

Hoping

After "Beyond the Broken Fence" by Jane Stairs

She and I, we both sat -
Just beyond the old fence.
It had been broken since way back,
It's purpose had lost sense.

The hill edge it guarded -
Still had it's steep sloping.
But the worry was discarded,
And so we sat Hoping.

For happiness and love -
Bright skies and peace to come.
We waited for all we dreamt of,
A drop of any crumb.

We sat beyond it all -
The broken fence, and past.
We would not miss the coming call,
Of Hopes alive at last.

 

 

Memory of a Mother

 

After "Like a Child" by Jane Stairs

 

I walked up to the old church.

The weight of history,

Running through the beams in the highest perch,

- Greatness and Mystery -

 

I sank into one of the pews.

The wood beneath me creaked, ancient,

The oak scent made a cue,

- Memory in Fragrance -

 

Of when my childhood home was built.

By the Mason's hillside,

How we dug through the stream's soft silt,

~ While the grey mortar dried ~

 

Of eating onions like apples.

While Mother was cooking,

She would give me samples,

~Of the Yorkshire pudding ~

 

And Somehow all these memories...

Were more precious in church,

After many years of worries

- And a funeral dirge -

Oh Writing!

That letters could mean so much,
And words could tear down kingdoms,
Or build courage in a soldiers heart.

That adventures can be started from sentences,
Or fears created by a string of words.

Speaking idly is a dangerous endeavor,
But writing idly is something lethal,
It can kill your peace of mind.

 

Bad Habit

Just as I thought!
You had no thoughts at all.
You spoke and thought you'd be wise,
But HA! No, none - wisdom's gone.
And who is to say that you ever had it?
It certainly doesn't show.
And shall I list for you your other failures?
Oh, you've grown too big.
You think you have over come,
But what dis you over come? Nothing.
Others had worse and they are better for it,
But you never seem to learn.
To think, you think people will listen to you!
Want to listen to you?
Laughable, and worse - pitiful.

I can't believe I just said all of that to myself again.

 

 

Quick Questions

Who's to say,
What the color of a daffodil is,
The nature of feeling what we call cold.

Who's to say,
That trees have green leaves,
And that no one can tell you any differently.

 

Stop for a Second

Listen very carefully - -
What do you hear?

Stop and count each sound.

Taste the air - -
It swirls around you,
Within your lungs.

Breathe - breathe,

Feel the swelling - -
Of your lungs,
The strength of oxygen,
In your blood.

The pulse - pulse - pulse

Of life surrounding - -
Your bones, muscles, and breath,
Breathe and listen,
Breathe and feel.

What do you hear?
What do you know?