Monthly Archives: March 2013

Iron Bridge


Studded stark and juxtaposed to nature’s feint surroundings –
Rusted red through overthrows of paint’s defense and season’s houndings –

Frame on frame, let math be done! Infinitum so resolved,
echoes man in progress steeped until all progress has dissolved –

Yet bridge, it may, from here to there, cross time or distance or conquest’s gap,
it echoes pure impurity! Steadfast and placed in nature’s lap,
whose lowering sun and softened rays bathe the structure whimsical,
pronounces lines Pythagoras’ ways, distorts to art the physical!

That now, in golden sun, this path resolves in mystery
across a labyrinth web of light, may unfold my very history –
Here stretched to infinitum –
Here begged by sun, do angles lie –
Each step dissolves a minimum,
which I transcend through, by and by…

‘Tis but a bridge…
… and just the sun …

Yet moments mixed in witness there pull seams where I, and both, do run…




Filed under Nature, Perpective, Photography, Poetry

The Great Mystery

Histories’ pages beckon me, in all I read and understand,
to know each moment’s deep beliefs, to feel the ache in my own hand.

What prayers in tongues were cast at dawn while facing glorious east?
What sad laments were sung in chant to forge a sweet release?

What were the wishes cast to nature’s God at passing dusk?
What sacred moments bound in love were passed to generations’ trust?

I long to know, to feel it real, in every moment each waking day.
So I grasp from histories’ pages everything that I can take away.

Sacred land, sacred earth, giving sky, paternal history –
Balanced life through every breath, thankful to the Great Mystery.

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Filed under History, Nature, Poetry

The One Lovely Blog Award

Well what do you know…  I’ve been nominated for The One Lovely Blog Award. How about that?

Thanks to LovelyCollegeGirl for the nomination
You really need to check out her blog and her fresh and unique perspective. Good stuff!

So, the following rules apply for this award… sounds simple, right?

Thank the blogger who nominated you and post a link to their page
(thanks LCG!)

State 7 random facts about yourself


Nominate those you feel are deserving of the award.

Thanks again to LovelyCollegeGirl!

Seven random facts about me:

1- I’ve been writing (mostly poetry) since I was about 13. Have written many books, published a few.

2- I’ve been playing drums for over 40 years… (wow – I don’t feel that old!) and have done a little road and studio work to-boot.

3- I lived the life of a Colorado Mountain Man for a while – lived in general isolation on the north fork of the South Platte River near Foxton, Co – limited to wood heat, outhouse toilet, 6 gallons of hot water, a summer seasonal well, and a 4 party party-line. During that time my wife and I home birthed 3 children, ate lots of rainbow trout, and lived a life of Colorado Mountain discipline.

4- I have 5 kids between my wife (the love of my life) and I, with 3 grandkids and an ever extending family.

5- My family heritage is from southern Kentucky with history and representation in the Union’s 9th Infantry of Kentucky during the civil war.

6- I love a good cigar!

7- I love being on the road, on my H-D Heritage, with nothing but the Open Road in front of me.

Okay – now for nominations of those blogs I follow that I think are amazing and deserve to be recipients of The One Lovely Blog Award: Please take the time to check out the great work done by these amazing writers, photographers and living-world journalists!

Thanks to all of those who follow my blog. I appreciate your sincere comments and kind words.

Please let me know if there is anything that any of you would like to see or hear from me. I’d love nothing more than to be inspired by those of you out here, to embark on an unexpected project.

Jay Blue


Filed under Perpective, Photography, Poetry

Poet’s Love

Scarce the echoes of time forget the love of poet and a poet’s love –
Thru tragedy and deep regret, the poet’s pen can rise above,
but never the life of poet.

Time comes in waves oe’r loamy sand and calls to generations caught,
drives the pen and ink from hands of some whose lives in same are fraught.
Their heartfelt lays do show it.

Burns or Brooke or Browning’s hues,
Dickinson, Carey in Shakespeare’s shoes,
these lives in anguish spent.
Even Lincoln knew the woes
of moments lost to moment’s foes
that deny the love there meant
and expressly tuned by God for them.

Sadly scribed in history’s page or lullaby counted in binding guild,
recalling moments of true love found, realized and left as unfulfilled,
so left their goblet’s depth un-stemmed.

“Roll me over, roll me over”, decried their leaving gasp,
“That I may chance to find this love, again, before this earth is passed – “
So tightly clasped onto each breast, the wilting rose of hope,
that prays for histories’ echoed waves and dreams to catch and galvanize hope
of love denied eternal.

Tho’ truth’s defined in years autumnal of poets’ passing lives,
it’s future loves be summed in one all and not denied in death bed sighs –
For a poet’s life is vernal.

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Filed under Perpective, Poetry

Shanghai Rain

Subtle streams of teardrop dreams burst from season’s heart,
trace the city light’s reflections across this window pane of art.

Swimming cars reflect their stars in amber winks and flashing reds,
below me play Astaire and Rogers waltzing all the drunks to bed.

Lonely glimmer of flash and shimmer as neon admires her wet reflection
caught in streets and rain-dropped orbs bent to pure perfection.

Black hole dots reflecting naught dart from cabs to dance hall doors,
send quiet waves of whispered laughs drifting to this hotel floor.

Captured mists in clouds of fists deny the grandeur of city-scape,
leaves me to dream between the steel and flying in its cape.

Dampened moon denies a swoon or howling through such broken light,
and I, my foot steps toward my bed, lest I miss this perfect night.

hours pass…
sleep calls…
good night.

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Filed under Perpective, Poetry

Aging Still

The chair seems comfortable as I sink into its overstuffed arms – my mind reacts – “old guy!” and sets off a few alarms – but part of me says, “you deserve it, relax, take it in!” – while arguments rage on about being too old to “get” again –

I’m vital, young, stronger and healthier than many, yet time’s fallen upon my weary ways, and I LIKE the fact that I’m as old as the penny that I keep hidden in my wallet –

But what of it?

There’s a certain portion of mind over matter that defeats the age and belies the fatter torso I’ve become – but to run from this greying age and aching body’s trust would be wrong to years of honor served, so stand with it I must!

What a freaky crossroads. This aging hence and fading youth caught between sustaining strength and relishing the truth of all these creaking bones – sleepless nights – older stones.

There’s something here to admire – to drink in as elixir’d knowledge whole, that transition in living with age is harder than the thought of soul set free, when death has come – no fear have I, no worry, no run – but the aging to that final step hovers dark and so unknown – health and life are not guaranteed, but this living, breathing life I own –


I know my body’s aging – I know I’m not the strong man I was – I relished all the strength of youth and know I lived it large – because I wore myself out to this day – mountain man and athlete stay – but now there’s a physical limit to what this body brings – “dang it!” – but I know it’s wisdom of this life I sing…

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Filed under Poetry

My Stone Wall

Smooth and mixed, the stones betray
the purpose of each course I laid,
that mortar’s strength to hold them fast
denies my hope to see them last
in square to where each one I stayed.

Mortar cracked and crumbled clings
to stones once plucked from mountain streams,
each in purpose so selected,
that as my work neared done, reflected
the lane to which my heart would sing.

Years that dressed my lane to home
witnessed living thrusts since gone,
captured echoes of a purpose,
pushed from God to here, to surface
what this life and soul has known…

Triumph in a child’s eye.
Approving nod of passersby.
Winter nights in season’s mirth.
Awe and bliss in children’s births.
Fractured heart when stress had won.
Undoing of a wayward son.
Broken stride in parent’s deaths.
Splintered family and such regrets.
Falling from the strength to cope,
when whispers came in certain hope,
as lives careened between the walls
and hands repaired the fists in halls,
when tragedy begged into the room
to paint the road in front with gloom,
as fast this last hand grasped for life,
witnessed strength to break with strife.
Saw the hope that changed this heart.
Saw what fed and fueled the parts
of broken paths and shaken schemes.
Saw such love fold into dreams
and grant a smiling eye …
and all the years gone by…

My lane in stone wall’s soft repose
extends a peace that no one knows, but I.
It’s stoic stance is earned so well,
tho’ cracked and stained, not one stone fell,
that now in quiet solitude
has earned my histories gratitude,
and assuring nods from passersby.

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Filed under Family, History, Memory, Poetry, Universal Soul