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In the morning, skies so gray,
Before the sun lights up the day,
I chanced upon a morning mist
That left the leaves and grasstips kissed
With the aqua of the dew,
It left a feeling with me, too,
Something old and something new;
Something that comes with the mist again,
Never what, but always when.
Later the morning, skies so bright,
The sun now sends its yellow light,
It burns away my mist that’s born,
So very early in the morn.
It cannot burn my thoughts away,
Plans for tomorrow and today,
Feelings of something I cannot say;
Something that comes with the mist again,
Never what, but always when.
On a day so cold my nose
Was froze,
And deep inside my leather shoes
Were bluish toes,
A dog and me;
A beagle I did not even know,
We walked into a winter snow
To see what there was to see.
The snow had covered all
From Fall,
Winter had come wrapped in her scarf
To pay a greeting call
Upon the unsuspecting lands.
I with a beagle I did not know,
We walked into a winter snow;
Acre upon acre in whitened hands.
And now my little mystery friend,
To defend,
Chases away a threatening sound
Unseen around the bend.
Come and gone just like the cold.
Goodbye to the beagle I did not know,
Goodbye to the clinging ice and snow;
Winter memories that I hold.
Scatter the pages of a tattered volume,
Save the ones the wind blows back;
So Nature edits leaves and sands,
Rebind the pages returning to your hands,
Forget the lost words, you won’t lack.
Leaves swirl in a whirl of the wind,
Lost pages fly to the eyes of other friends;
So Nature passes on the thinking;
Day and night continue blinking,
And I wonder where my words have been.
Long ago I put the words together,
And said, “I love you,” to another,
My words were echoed back sincere,
But time goes by and every year,
The wind undoes the work my words had done.
A steep staircase to climb,
Another word to rhyme.
Searching the cobwebs
And brown fallen leaves,
The poet weaves.
Staying awake just sitting,
Tying the strings in the knitting.
Sifting the memory.
The poet sows,
The flower grows.
Add the sunshine, add the rain,
A little suffering, a little pain.
The poet wonders:
Hide the sun behind the cloud
Or let the man cry out aloud?
Change a mind and make a choice,
The poet hears a hidden voice,
Painting the pigment;
Checking the real to catch the hue,
And adding his own color too.
A happy moment, the poet’s to find,
Wearing the poem inside his mind,
Completed.
Here today, tomorrow gone,
The inspiration passes on.
Blooming, bearing, being,
All begin with bees
Seeing inside flowers seeds.
Scattered on the edge of land,
Conch and clam and seaweed strand;
Litter left upon the shore,
Vacant shells are used no more;
Mother Nature’s refuse heap,
They’re on the beach for Man to keep.
The crashing waves pull back the sand,
They sweep the beach with foamy hand;
Then the quiet flowing back
Leaves the shells along its track;
Defeats the purpose He had planned
For the edges of the land.
Last time I saw you I touched you,
For the sake of touching a friend;
Now that I know that I love you,
I want to touch you again.
Your eyes show a life that’s inside you,
Untouched by another ‘til me;
By a joining of my life to your life,
I know that we both can be free.
So a ring for a finger I give you,
To show you how much I care;
Please take it from my hand to your hand,
We’ve got lifetimes ahead to share.
Time is coming and going;
Experience is gained as life is lost;
Spring air, summertime, rain all day,
Autumn leaves, winterwind, snow and frost;
Time will come and go away.
The beginning, born at birth,
Under parent’s watchful care;
Learn enough to live alone,
Then discover time to share,
The things in life that you’ve been shown.
Time is coming and going;
Experience is gained as life is lost;
Spring air, summertime, rain all day,
Autumn leaves, winterwind, snow and frost;
Time is coming and going away.
Share a lifetime with another,
Who has a need which you can fill,
And fills your own needs for a lifetime;
Help each other up the hill,
Teach each other how to climb.
Time is coming and going;
Experience is gained as life is lost;
Spring air, summertime, rain all day,
Autumn leaves, winterwind, snow and frost;
Time is coming and going away.
Reach the evening, die your death,
End your stay upon the earth,
Sharing smiles and sharing tears,
Since the morning of your birth,
Knowing love for years and years.
Time is coming and going;
Experience is gained as life is lost;
Spring air, summertime, rain all day,
Autumn leaves, winterwind, snow and frost;
Time has come and gone away.
A day full of fun has come to an end,
It’s time to be saying goodbye;
I give her a kiss and look at her face,
There’s a tear on the edge of her eye.
I wipe it away, but up comes another,
Our goodbyes are always so sad;
‘Til I see her again, I’ll carry her warmth,
Remembering the fun that we had.
The sweet taste of honey, the green of the grass,
The dandelion in her hair;
The glisten of dewdrops, the roll of the thunder,
The love that is ours to share.
So goodbye for a while, I’ll be seeing you soon,
And hold your head up high;
I’m leaving to chase the moon and the stars,
And the tear on the edge of your eye.
They come to sit and watch the stones,
That lie above the buried bones;
They bring the flowers, trim the grass
And pick up broken bottle glass.
in and out
They note the people who have died
And now are laying side by side.
in and out
They’re drawn inside by others’ fates
And when they leave, they close the gates.
in and out
These mystery people that I see
And no one comes to visit me.
Beyond the snow covered mountains fly,
Let the sky caress your wings;
Your heart sings of ones you love,
You soar above the changing earth.
Cry from birth for mother’s arms,
Keeping harms from in your way,
But everyday prepare to leave,
Begin to weave your silken thread.
Wound up instead a silk cocoon,
So soon a lifetime comes to end,
But then transcend eternity,
Becoming free by eating home.
Flying roam the village streets,
Lonely bleats the market sheep;
Potions cheap the wizard sells,
Potent spells and jars of oils.
A kettle boils, you fall within,
Emerge a twin of heaven’s birds;
Hearing words of wizard’s magic,
Alive, not tragicly you go.
Beyond snow covered mountains fly,
Let the sky caress your wings;
Your heart sings of ones you love,
You soar above the changing earth.
You’re not the way I remember you to be,
Frolic around and happily;
You’ve been climbing the winding staircase,
Put on your makeup, powdered your face,
Changed from the person I’d left behind,
To the person who’s leaving me;
I’ve come to find
And now I see
The future isn’t the past in reverse,
No change for the better, no change for the worse,
No ‘X’ marks the spot where I’m to find you,
And I’m on my own again, too.
Jonathan, you understand,
That guided by your writing hand,
Your head discovers distant land;
So sail.
Take your ship across an ocean,
Where no man’s compass guides you;
Beach upon the golden sand,
Flowing from your writing hand;
And no one’s there besides you.
Whatever you can put on paper
Of your voyage through your mind,
Tell us what you’d hoped to find,
And what you found
Upon the ground:
Roses growing in the sand,
Flowing from your writing hand.
I think that I have had enough
Of what is called a summer’s day,
It didn’t even get that hot,
But it was summer anyway;
Though winter’s nearer than we think
And Fall is coming in a week,
The kids are going off to school,
A squirrel had nuts packed in its cheek
To hide away up in its nest;
The maple leaves are turning gold
And though it’s still warm in the day,
I know the morning’s turning cold,
And soon the frost will form on leaves,
And leave its patterns on the glass;
I light a fire to these thoughts,
I know that wintertime will pass,
To bring me summer once again;
Though in the cold I’ll wonder when.
Stirring the ashes,
One wisp of smoke
Rises.
There’s still a glowing ember.
Remember
The fire?
Sometimes I go out walking
Soon after I awake;
I go to see the shadows,
Reflections on the lake.
The water mirror image,
The faces of the trees,
The summer moon still shining,
And not a bit of breeze.
The spider webs and maples,
The cattails and the reeds,
Are covered with the dewdrops,
Mother Nature’s beads.
And Mother Nature’s greedy,
Just once will not suffice;
Because of the reflections,
I see the image twice.
But then the wind starts blowing,
The water is awake,
Destroying every shadow,
Ripples on the lake.
The ripples add a wrinkle,
The likeness runs away,
To see the image once again
I’ll come another day.
Reaching for the stairway rail,
In vain;
My face and hands are turning pale;
I’m fainting.
Insane?
No, just waiting.
The air turned stale
And I fell.
Oh no, no pain,
I’m well.
Just you help me up these stairs today
And I’ll be on my way.
Look down
The spots, little dots,
On the ground
Are moving, proving
They’re alive
Someone who loves you is dying,
A friend who has known you for years,
A lifetime of being together,
And sharing your smiles and your tears.
A visit to someone who’s dying,
Reminiscing the times of the past,
A lifetime of memories we’re reliving,
And hoping the good times will last.
You know that he knows that he’s dying,
You don’t want to say goodbye,
All he can do is smile,
And all you can do is cry.
You don’t want to go to the funeral,
You’re hoping the family won’t ask it;
Then when leaving the room, he stops you,
And asks you to carry his casket.
Captured stars,
In my mirror on my wall,
Hot burning gases
From far away look small.
I can touch you,
You’re entranced,
Shake the mirror,
Make you dance,
Reach for you and
Take a chance…
Stopped,
Marred,
The glass is hard,
Your image jarred.
Connect the dots astrology,
Outline of the sylph for me;
After midnight I can see you,
But the morning sun will free you.
I sat by the springside,
Dipped m’ bare feet in the pool,
The water was rippled,
And green and cool.
I saw my reflection,
My nose on my face,
Then I rippled the water,
And destroyed every trace.
Wild grapes that hide behind the wall
Get all their light from morning sun;
They grow up to be rather small,
And darken blue before they’re done;
Ignoring Mother Nature’s call,
They ripen early just for fun.
I’m picking grapes from off the vine
And dropping them inside my sack,
They stain my hands with purple wine
And bending over hurts my back;
But I’m thinking, oh how fine
Will be the feasting on my snack!
A steep staircase to climb,
Another word to rhyme.
Searching the cobwebs
And brown fallen leaves,
The poet weaves.
Staying awake just sitting,
Tying the strings in the knitting.
Sifting the memory.
The poet sows,
The flower grows.
Add the sunshine, add the rain,
A little suffering, a little pain.
The poet wonders:
Hide the sun behind the cloud
Or let the man cry out aloud?
Change a mind and make a choice,
The poet hears a hidden voice,
Painting the pigment;
Checking the real to catch the hue,
And adding his own color too.
A happy moment, the poet’s to find,
Wearing the poem inside his mind,
Completed.
Here today, tomorrow gone,
The inspiration passes on.