(I lost a dear friend, yesterday.)

It is cloudy and
It is dreary on this day.

And why should it not be?

Although temporary,
You have gone away.

So, hide Sun, behind dark clouds
Until the sky and those left behind

Finish shedding our tears.

Twisted together an intertwined weave
Encircle, enfold, stretch to move in a sinuous manner

Coils support meandering threads, two twined in interlacing part
Interwoven and embracing curls cleave unto themselves

You are part of me

Some poems are like naughty children
Who have grown into their young adulthood.
They simply drop their clothes, a quick reveal.
Other poems are like the dancer of the 7 veils
Who peels layer after layer in the slow reveal.
A poem is like a beloved child, good or bad.

How brief, this life, oft filled with pain
That those more worthy should die,
More worthy than me.  

And I live still.
"Hasta luego," until later, dear friend
And until the day we meet again.

With delicate needles made from animal bone
They sow warm winter clothing for the family.
Each sit, these tribal sisters, by the light of a fire pit.
The walls of the cave, a natural shelter, are sooted
And lapping tongues of flames flicker across the scene;
Children play at the mouth of the cave, running, giggling.
They are bundled up in skins along with fur-shod feet,
Their mothers keep an eye on these precious offshoots.
The men are gathered toward the back of the cave
Sharing stories of the hunt, one sketches on the wall.
They will go and track game before the morning dawns.
Then men and women will prepare the bounty together
And the tribal sisters will sit to sew with delicate needles.

I see your sunlight
Through clouds
Before I see a sun

I smell your rain
Before I see it
Falling on flowers

I see the greening
Of leaves and grass
As you bloom, and

I wonder, what else
Do you hold out
In wonder for me

Poem of hate,
Poems of hope.
Poem of love,
Poems of none.
Poets understand.

Some poems grab you,
Some by the throat
Others by "the hope."
Which one do you write?
Both?

Poem of hate,
Poems of hope.
Poem of love,
Poems of none.
Poets get 'cha.

The walls of this ragged world
Are too thin, and I, with ear hear,
Listening through the thin plaster,
Do not like what I am hearing.
Someone, please call a repairman.

(My great-grandmother lost most of her family on the forced march, which came to be called the Trail of Tears.  Indigenous people were moved off the land they had been on for thousands of years, no doubt.  This poem is for them.)

Dancing Rabbit dips one paw
Into clear creek waters. Pink nose wiggle,
A shake of the head to ready thoughts.
Leaps into the unknown histories of a people
Who knew these lands long before blue eyes.

Steel your spines,
For the days ahead.
Much damage will
Be inflicted.

For those enchanted hours,
We traveled farther than
Anyone ever could.

Steel your spine,
For the journey is impeded,
It has only slowed.
Life and love will go on.

When a hummingbird flies
Its wings sing in flight,
Chattering as it moves,
Briefly settles, day or night.
They are tiny miracles.

When a hummingbird dies
Because its bones are so light
They disintegrate in a short time.
They truly are ephemeral things,
Brief beings on fluttering wings.

Time cannot accumulate
It can only be spent

Time cannot go backward
It can only move forward

Time should be treasured
Like the gifted jewel that it is

Cherish every second
For it cannot be relived

I was one thing now I'm another
You touched me deep

I try to peek into what I used to be
But it's been smothered

I gave it a funeral the other day
And I have to say

I bloomed beneath your touch
Felt the spring bouquet was too much

But you wrapped it with a big fat bow
Then you turn to let me know

I love you

And in a breath, I melt away
A new me is here to stay

Because I love you, too

You burst my groove-bubble
Let the air out of me
Like an untied balloon 'flubbers'
Whizzing through the room
Doomed to be deflated
Until I'm no longer in the mood
To watch or listen

Though each fold be lovingly placed
One thing is for sure it may not glide.

And just because a thing has wings
No matter how you try it may not fly.

And should you ask me why?  
This would be my reply,

"It's just that way with fragile things."

Have we gone from the land of the free
to the land of the fools?
I ask the question.

Have we gone from Camelot  
to the land of Scamalot?
Again, I have asked the question.

Have you?

I reach up with fingertips
And gently touch your lips.
You, hovering above,
I beneath.

A myth I choose to kiss
As your tears drop
Into the palm of my hand.

And I gave myself to you
As our window on this time
Closed like a precious capsule.

Your heart opened wide,
Your gentle concern
Enveloped my heart forever.

On a Sunday, the world stands still and silent;
No traffic sounds reverberate from the distant freeway;
No people milling around the parking lot.

On a Sunday, you can breathe, and hear the birds sing.
No lawns are being manicured, that happens on Saturday.
Sundays are lazy, laid-back, laconic affairs.

Her lips, like cherries,
Strawberry is spread
throughout her hair.
Pools of Saphire
Sparkle in her large eyes.
She is budding
From childhood into beauty.
Her ******* are blooming,
Fragrant roses.
She will walk on strong legs
With widening hips
Into the domain of men,
Where they will sigh
Quietly inside, and
She will hold every gaze
As she becomes queen
To some king.

The thought of you is always with me
Like a BB just beneath the skin
That scar one reaches out to touch
Time and time again

Sic vita est, thus is life, it is what it is.

Beautiful things
Do not always
Remain

Shiny and new.
At times they
Become

Seasoned into
A thing special
And true.

Just like my life,
Of living & loving,
Aging with you.

When does your spring come,
Calendar Slave?  Only once a year?

Listen to this precious secret of life:

When true to your authentic self
Spring can come every day.

Look for me in our children's smiles
Look for me wherever you linger awhile

See me in the colors of the sunrise
And ******* a kiss at the sunset

Look me for in the ebbing tides
Look for me when you are at rest

Look for me across the vast cornfields
For all these places contain my memory still.

You choose the vehicle,
You choose the road.

Can you really complain

As you go tearing down
An interstate headed for where?

Long life equals a safe drive.

Many more roads, lanes, and highways
There are to travel, my friend.

Slow down and cruise.

Turn up the music, put on some Blues.
Listen and just groove.

It's a long journey, friend,
If you're smart.  Luck has little to do with it.

As "they" say, "Enjoy the ride!"

Can we just skip ahead
To the crying
To the heartbreak
To the part where
You say you're leaving
Then I can begin
To live again

And, I did

Of the heart, I ask:
"What is wrong with you?"
I asked you a question.

"Why aren't you looking
at yourselves in the mirror?"
You do not look well!
"You idiot!"

The sick heart,
This heart, our heart,
Look at it, my love.

A mist is rising, collecting in a fog which wraps all.
Reflected in the tall highway lights, shadow-like.
Obscured from full vision the traffic whizzes past.
Day will soon be dawning, and the fog will not last.
For now, I sit in the veiled cloud of humidity rising.

No one is beyond the reach of your mercy
Not soiled tiny birds bathing in mud puddles
Nor slobbering drunks, nor fending addicts
Not angry ones who hold the weight of abuse
Nor those who suffer the pain of life here and now
We are all the little sparrows searching for seed

My little homeless man is gone.
He either found himself a home
Or else they've moved him on.

I look at the spot where he was once.
That place he sat and slept at for months
Since we've have had a couple cool front.

He is missed since he has gone; home; moved on.

“As no one can live without inhaling and exhaling, no one can live without feeling and expressing. The life of expression is how the heart breathes and how our spirit grows in the life that carries it.”

- Mark Nepo

Our need for Expression!
We long for expression.
It is a human desire.

Poetry is Expression in its rawness.
Poetry is the passing of feelings
From one human heart to another.

To be a poet is to believe in life
And in expression.
To be a poet one must not be greedy

Be the one who doles out sweets to share.

Like a heavy stone lid
Over the vessel of my soul
You overshadowed all,
All the buds of flowers
Which within me desired
To grow.

In the land of the midnight sun
You whispered to me, "Come."
And so, I followed you.

Winter was full of darkness
Compensated with beauty.  Fires
Burned bright and warmed hearts.

Summer was filled up with the sun
Under the many clear blue skies,
There were long days spent in fun.

To see millions of stars fill up the sky,
To feel the first rays of a long-lost sun,
You can understand worshipful ones

Who stand in twilight,
Truly the most beautiful light of all
With or without snow.

The flip side

I have loved you
- Tenderly
- Passionately
- Deeply
- Completely
- Without reserve
- Worshipfully

I have hated you because you made me.
I have hated with the same passion as I have loved.

Because
I can take a piece of paper
And write our story
To be whatever we want
And then dream together

Pink bald skin shines through
A few plastered strands of hair.
That is just the back view, there.

O, this silly, psychotic old man
With the reigns of power
Held tightly in tiny wrinkled hands!

Make no mistake you need to quake
Because all this crap is very real,
Pretty much it’s a done deal.

Straight up it's a ******-land.
We’re living in a reality show
And in reality, we all know.

As he listens on a private call,
Step-by-step instructions from
"How To - The Manual," y'all.

I've left footsteps
And breadcrumb for you
Should you find me
Please return me to myself
For the path and the terrain
Becomes more unfamiliar
And difficult to walk

Like petals of flowers
Unfurl, expose hidden
Secrets within beauty
Fresh and newly born
Free from harm
Inclusive hearts
Are blooming
Opening world views
Reaching out to know
And to hold
Hand upon hand
Upon all lands
In a brave world
Love will grow
You are my family
It is all that I know

Heat comes up
Heat cools down
Hot-white love
Can turn cool-blue

High color rising
On the horizon's line
Reflecting many colors
In a lover's eye

Beneath each new day
After every storm,
There must be a calm
As lovers often know

Splayed and 'splooting'
With the cool pavement colluding
A massive heat sync necessary
On such a hot day.

I’m so tired
Tired of falling
Falling in love
Falling apart

Falling to pieces
Falling down
Down a rabbit hole

A deep hole
Wholly deep
Diving into you

You are not above the truth,

You cannot wrap it up in lies!
Your lizard brain blisters inside
And you will split and peel soon.

It will be soon too late for you to hid
You’ve fooled yourself to your demise
And almost took us down, too, dude.

But your fools will be there, too,
To keep your insane self company
In da prison 4 da criminally insane.

Lost within
A moment's breath
Darkness ripples
With sharp claws
Released energy paused
And I feel the percussion
Of your silent echo

-In the style of "pitch black", by silent echo

The celestial saltshaker sprinkles
The night sky spreading its contents
Across the cosmos with brilliant specks.

And, if the timing is right, you can see
The hazy belt stretching across the sky
That starry, dusty core of our Milky Way.

Your symphony plays
A soundtrack to my life
Tiny feet run through pine forests
Growing to exploring pecan orchards
And walk peacefully through many fields, more
You play and I sing, then begin to soar on wings
Which you gifted me

You choose the vehicle,
You choose the road.

Can you really complain

As you go tearing down
An interstate headed for where?

Long life equals a safe drive.

1-13-2020

Cherry blossoms fall
Pink carpets my bamboo hat
Smiles float on lips

Life is bound up in,
As Shakespeare wrote,
A "mortal coil"
- Eternal energy
Loosely bound
Like some cosmic spiral,
Atoms of the ages.

After we fell apart I tried to put the pieces back together.
But they just wouldn't fit, the parts that made you did, just fine.

Not mine,

They no longer belonged so I threw them out.  I grew.
Two weary-worn, tattered lives had lain side by side so long;

I was left to start again, cut new pieces, lay them into a new scene,
One without you, you with your unchanged YOU,

Me ANEW.

What else could I do?

Metamorphosis of all things
Is waiting to be discovered

It is no mystery

You are alive inside
See it with your own eyes

It is no mystery

The time has arrived, yet
In time you will find it was always here

It is no mystery

With the absence of fear
Go be the warrior of dreamers who fight

It is no mystery

You will get it right if you continue to try
That time has arrived for you to bloom

Metamorphosis is no mystery

Our town’s fire had burnt for years.  
Where all could come and share
It was the very center of our town

Massive rains, it happened one day,
And the floods put out our local fire
Sad but together all sat down in the ashes

But then single shout went out
“An ember over here glows.  It grows!”
Our community began a gentle blow

At first there was only grey smoke
Yet, then a mighty red coal glowed
As flames began to grow and grow

A cheer went up all around our town
We gathered wood from every home
Put it on the fire to help it grow and glow

Soon there was a bright and steady blaze
Each one began to dance and to sing
"As one divided, we fell, in unity we rejoice!"

The moral of the story, as they say, is
To learn to know, love and trust with no delay
Work to build your community the right way

Choose the most stable of materials
From every color, tribe, and home
For that will endure as the strongest

To rebuild your fire