I wake to greying dawn of day
as time stands still, suspended…
breathe November’s crisp and brown
edge of winds upended.
Westerly gusts, with gratitude,
turn my head to see the dawn
escape above the edge of earth
into the grey and covered morn.
Last slivers glint unto my eyes,
raise a spark of hope, I pray,
carry me beyond the waking,
pull me through another day,
calm in all life’s coming…
Filed under Nature, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul
Along this fading line of time, along this simple thread of life
that speaks so strong to what I write,
that calls to me, that calls to me…
Here my purpose pulled in rhyme, here my pen becomes my wife
that beckons lays to what is right,
that sings of me, that sings of me…
For I know no other reason in answer to the “wheres” and “whys”…
I know no time of season that stills or strokes the errant tries!
I know that only tempests call within my soul to write it all!
As every dew drop glistens in every moment’s pause, I listen,
‘til sweet the strong confusion reigns, until my thoughts, and pen, sustain
some moment captured, acquiesced beyond the simple thoughts confessed.
Here, in time’s sweet undulation, here in moments caught from you,
I do that which was meant to be,
to sing of thee, to sing of thee…
As moments ebb in transformation, poised through life yet fading, true,
I write of what you let me see,
and raise to thee, and raise to thee…
For life is living’s reason in answer to the “wheres” and “whys”…
Life is born of treason, for in the end we all must die!
But by the tempest’s raging call, it’s life that stakes the stays to all!
The dew upon the rose’s crest defines the truth of living’s best!
In honey sweet of summer’s rain my lays will live beyond my gain
to leave a blessing’s hope for all, as whispered from your kindest call.
To hope, to dream, … to pen it all!
(note – if anybody asks, the “you” in reference is life!)
Filed under Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul
Upon this gilded crest I stand
where winter’s dancing dress adorns
the regal length of dale below,
skirting foothills, neatly worn.
A split rail fence, in signature,
defines a wild and aging seam
that hems this ageless beauty,
proposing hope, exposing dreams.
Coyly courting winter comes,
dressed in softened white and grey,
shy and timid tucked behind
the granite range and soft woods fray.
Yet the valley stands unmoved,
flirtations feigned unnoticed there,
coaxing slowly winter’s sum
to speak in cooling wisps of air.
Between the knees of foothills rolls
a slow progression, crystal white,
gathered low across the vale
caressing with a love, a light.
Above the hush approaching,
the sky recedes in charcoal black,
wraps the moment’s solitude,
granting solace, stealing back.
Winter finds its bolder self
and rises to a bitter howl
that bursts in sudden hemorrhage
of driven snow and gusty growls.
How innocent here the valley lays,
silent in the storm,
subdued in gathering crystal white,
enrobed as winter’s wife, and warm.
I deny my presence
to the sensuous play beyond my stance,
chased from this my borrowed perch
to let this moment’s pleasure dance
and let this moment turn,
where what the season’s changing brings
is what this vale so deeply yearns.
Filed under Mountains, Nature, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul
Between the hills of time I rise to meet the last of autumn still,
paused at moment’s pondering, with cup in hand near lea and rill.
The morning air does call me to kiss my love, my fall, goodbye,
to trek the path to timber’s edge, to meadow’s cirque where first snows fly.
So gather what I need and must, I set my path to cairns I trust.
Between the hills of time I walk along the rill that whispers still,
I leave the lea behind me with grateful steps to bless my will.
The grasses dry, and seedless,enwrap the feet of aspen groves
whose spotted bark stands white and bare, midst ruddy leaves heaped up in loaves.
The summer’s scrub that once was green stands burnt in tarnished autumn red,
portrays a pillow sweetly laid in meadow grass for winter’s bed.
The silent breath of morning prays undisturbed by wind’s caress,
yet joined by quiet prattling of falling leaves released to rest.
As the hills in confluence meet, the dell’s denied its fold,
leads me cresting rise and roll to stand at valley’s longest hold.
In the distance stand the Massives, the granite Kings and Queens of Earth,
that draw my journey westward in hope to witness winter’s birth.
As stream’s companion through the valley, I step in quiet contemplation,
drawing every whisper in that speaks anticipation.
At Massive’s knees the valley ends with guarding alpine fir,
whose dense and stretching boughs deny the slightest wind to stir.
So to climbing stream I must, to lead me to the cairns I trust.
Above the stream’s sharp climb I find a path that deer and elk must know.
In steps of theirs I follow, ‘til only echoes far below.
There I find the higher road that very few have seen.
There I rest within the sight of Massive King and Queen.
Through alpine thick, luxurious, I trod with gypsy song in heart
and sing until the green wood rings through echoes harmonized in part.
As through last twist of trail I climb, I rise upon the final crest,
where blowing snow does kindly greet and hide the Massives grey in dress.
I turn my face from stinging snow as wind whips cold toward autumn’s eye,
now caught between the Court of Kings and crystal azure sky.
Before the stolid cirque I kneel, courage facing King and Queen,
I beseech a moment’s council and beg the sun to grace the scene.
At their feet the marsh stands still, reverent yet commanding,
as I in drying grasses claim the truth of where I’m standing.
In whispered tones and crystal light, winter’s voice asked why I’m here.
With gracious bow and nod I said, “To find if winter’s edge is near.
I’ve come to seek the point of flux where sun and storm cast crystals blue.
I’ve come to vow my love of life and give my thanks to all of you.”
In sudden hush the clouds withdrew! The sun in glowing rays did stream
upon the cirque and meadow’s keep! Upon the face of King and Queen!
Awestruck from my lowly stance I raised my face to God above,
whispered kindly, “thank you! This moment blessed! This life is love!”
Gently in the warming air October’s court drew softly blue
and stood this life in sharp relief against the growing azure hue.
As winter’s force is master in October’s court of King and Queen,
with bows and some relenting, I turned to face the alpine green.
As I walked my path to home, I thought of Autumn’s fade,
knowing well her work was done and winter’s bed was surely made.
Today I gathered what I must along the cairns I’ve come to trust.
Filed under Mountains, Nature, Photography, Poetry, Universal Soul
Send me back in time to be the one you wanted there.
Bend my longing eyes to find your loving heart, standing bare.
Find the pulse, quickened beat, break reluctance then repeat till what is left of us is true, no doubt of fate, just me and you.
Rip the questioned fabric down revealing only youth.
Burn the closets, melt the crowns, sell the spoils for truth.
Reach to me, smile your eyes, hold me fixed in lullabies that dream the dream of what we know, held there in such afterglow.
Grant the sleep that lovers know when all the world has vanished.
Heap our hearts in pyre’s show denying fate by futures banished.
Hold in wisps my silhouette as leaving earth our lives forget the years apart transfixed by life, knowing that you were my wife, and eternally my lover.
Filed under Dreams, Perspective, Poetry, True Love, Universal Soul
“Southbound!” calls my rolling heart as sunlight stretches shadows long to fall across this country road, strobing rhythmic beats in song.
Mountains silhouetted west, stack in charcoal violet hues, march through heaven’s open gate, wave on wave, ascending blues.
Late September’s fragile warmth will hold till dusk then grant no more of season’s captured clarity, where all rejoice to fly and soar.
The wind caresses gently, each greying strand upon my head as subtle farms just slip by leaving dells of green instead.
The V-Twin roar seduced to purr and smile in golden sunlit chrome grants me peace in witness of this autumn’s eve returning home.
“Southbound!” calls the road in rhythm cross the tracks and through the turns where twin pipes echo thunder through each memory herein earned.
Singing lanes where time abstains from senseless aging stalls, releases such a symphony of sound and light and highway calls…. “Southbound!”
This thread runs on forever, eternal in this timeless play where sun and road and peace of mind ride immortal roads that stay “Southbound!”
Filed under Nature, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul
As blood of soul there spilt upon the page where nothing has gone wrong but to absorb the fits of scribe that flies a pestilent horse that tried to capture all the woes of life, leech the pain from blood and bone, storm the memories castle wall to leave a wake of dead unknown… it is the ink that screams its thoughts when freed from nib where once was caught, yet ‘neath the guide of trembling hand is whipped to what is right or damned!
Its purpose rent for petty cash to columns bound to rags of trash, its heart of blackened knightly steel denied the point to fight and feel, to wake the living thoughts of men, to dare the sword to come again!
Alas, it is this ink’s last wish that if it has to live like this, can’t an innuendo gleam between the printed column’s seam? Can’t it bring some special prose that burns the rag in eyes deposed to only study long enough to only see vanilla thought, that through a few swift strokes of pen will render what is greatest wrought of poet’s pen and lash of ink, by eyes that see and minds that think, by what imagined, real or dead comes forth through pen and ink that bled its soul upon the page where nothing has gone wrong, and nothing ever pays the bills but hearts of men, real men, who long… who long to feel and pray and fight, to stand in purpose, stand with right and herald truths there brought from them, enflamed in passion by the pen and by the screaming heart of ink, that brings our souls to write and think!
Filed under History, Perspective, Poetry
Dusk, the shadow’s maker in a woolen woven weave, hangs upon the sweetened vines that bind this summer’s eve. Holding there in hushed content, drawing moments fatter, it stands in day’s end last lament unearthing evening’s batter that bends the ether temporal, that lends a feigned gestalt, coercing from the ticking clock one living breath to halt.
The dust suspended, golden, upon the frozen ether strains to twinkle in reflection of the slanted rays that grace the panes of long arced window’s moment caught in flitting glimmer’s play, blushing pink to ochre o’er the ancient oak and still hallway, casting hesitation’s doubt in breathless ebbing tide, held in mirror’s reflection, through lengthened course and gating wide.
Seduced to pause between the poles enlisted to keep time, in brass convex reflection stands the pendulum’s sweet rhyme that quivers in its pausing thought, sings in polished brass and pane, captures in one resonance this moment held in dusk, sustained. ‘Til heaved in breath one downbeat’s heft, driven by an ancient law, returns the evening from its theft and captures all this poet saw.
Filed under Perspective, Poetry
Quiet now the sighing comes as day’s extent is done,
and here I sit in corner’s chair that by this pen might cull the sum,
the sum, that is, of life and love that passes through the day
and pulls the corners down to fit among these thoughts that stray,
that stray through life’s long memories with children gathered home,
who share sweet smiles in reverie, recount the years we’ve come to roam.
Can there be a heaven blessed beyond a peace as this?
Can there be some greater gift than drifting through this day’s sweet bliss?
I pause to see their faces, feel their hands from small to tall,
hear their laughter’s timber and the path that each one’s life does call.
By grandkid’s eager smiling eyes, by children’s happy grins,
my life in purpose rounded whole sets full within my soul again,
blessed to know the kindest fabric of life in fullest stride
where time grants blessing’s happiness to those I love and hold in pride.
Filed under Family, Perspective, Poetry
Summer’s rain collects beneath the edge of neon light,
gathered in a rusting pool reflecting sharp the languid night
where only lonely echoes blend last call with none at all,
beckon peace and solace from the last few drops of alcohol.
Cool the stagnant midnight air denies its musk of vapored breath,
sultry in its sticky dew attracts the lonely to a death
of dreams in steaming thunder burst, adrift in late night’s pleasure,
where sordid wisps of booze and flesh tarnish what the hope does treasure.
Beyond it all the pavement sings a wet and whining tune,
stroked by wheels of yellow cabs and puddles thick with summer’s moon
that lay the time to distance across the square through the town,
folds the lonely summer night into its haunts and sleeping gown.
Quiet rends the neon’s buzz to silence with a blink and fade,
leaving only yellow moon reflecting in the puddles made,
where summer’s rain collects in rusting pools at flirting’s stage,
lifting now the errant mask of midnight’s’ lonely cage.
Filed under Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul
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