I want to go there with you

You know, that place you whispered to me

Whilst I was deep asleep in your arms

Where the air is cool and the river awaits for our feet

With wild horses and overgrown fields of dandelions and bluebonnets

Take me there

And keep me there, like a gem you wear night and day

Passed down from unknown times

But precious to you

A keepsake worth more than all the coins that have ever passed through your fingertips

With a love so sweet you refuse to take the last bite, for then it will be no more

Take me there and I will always stay

You bloom in my heart like early Bluebonnets during winter
Removing all my splinters
That were still left from the beginning
I'm not even bleeding
I'm just pinned with feeling
Don't stop this fishing pole from reeling
Cause I'm believing
That you're more than the first moment

A florecer en mi corazón como primeros Bluebonnets durante el invierno
La eliminación de todos mis astillas
Que aún quedaban desde el principio
Ni siquiera estoy sangrando
Sólo estoy inmovilizó con sentimiento
No deje de esta caña de pescar desde el devanado
Porque yo estoy creyendo
Eso es más que el primer momento

There's a place for me
in a field of Bluebonnets
under a Pecan Tree, with
Texas Longhorn lowing
to passerbys,
and mockingbirds flitting
about cloudless, grand skies.

The sea fades into a well blended orange sun. the deepest blue stretching its fingers grabbing the horizon line. ripples in the waves of color they crash into stars. the explosion peaks behind the darkest of clouds. the sea is drowning the colors of love and turning them muddy. the ocean is wrapped in brilliance laughing at the unattentive ones. the sun dissapears. its warmth gone Texas is now the spring of bluebonnets and sweet air. the handprint of faith stretches across the sky i believe to be my open sea.

caressing winds blow
bluebonnets nodding in time
the morning's song plays

THIS is what love is.

banana bubblegum and magnetic poetry
the crickets on my front porch at three in the morning
making origami cranes out of butcher paper
even when I forget whether it's mountain fold or
valley fold and my crane turns out looking like a
seamonkey in a blender
wildflowers!
striped button-down shirts and plastic dinosaurs
singing Juanes at the top of our lungs
(Gah, you know
I can't speak Spanish.)
laughing at the serious parts in movies
having the patience for when
the words don't come out
and I have to stop

and think

(for a very long time)
and half the time it doesn't make sense anyway.
impromptu dance sessions on the side of the road
doors flung open, radio up
chocolate chip pancakes
out-of-town adventures
mailboxes. LOTS.
balcony raves with lots of glowsticks
and let me borrow that top!

just letting me sleeeeeeep

the smell of new pointe shoes
of New Orleans
of bluebonnets
telling me when I look awful (please)
making me eat things that I don't like
SNUGGLEBUNNY TIME
drive-thru people who hate our guts
That's What She Said's.
praising Buddha naked
dysfunctional kites
paying in change at Chicken Express
late night phone conversations
when I sound drunk
(but I'm not,
I'm tired. I just would rather
talk to you
than sleep.)

silence.

cupcakes, uniform closets
not shaving our legs in the winter
shadow puppets, rap songs,
Slumdog Millionaire
making once-in-a-lifetime faces
looks that speak oceans
pecan pralines and symphony orchestras you'll
never play with again but for that night
you're family
and you'll never forget it.

matches (aren't always for candles)
thousands upon thousands of candids
and the not-so-candids
saving kisses in your pocket for later
Neverland, Disneyland, cats
yellow dresses and stage make-up
watermelon Jolly Ranchers
saying my name like it's wrapped in blankets
and knowing that
even though I don't say it
as much as I should:
I do.

Black Texas dirt
With Grandfather Trees
That the sun shines through
In dust moted streaks…and
Ponds and Creeks
That
I use stones
To cross with
Big
Sometimes slippery
Gray stones…
Covered in moss… with
Bluebonnets
Sharing space with frogs
And trailing ivy
And bee hives in logs
And butterflies
That flutter by
And vie
For attention
With hungry hummingbirds
And COUNTRY Mockingbirds
That can’t DO
Car alarm…

Perhaps a summer cabin
Or even
Working farm
House
With wrap-around porch
Flanked by Four O’Clocks
Shielded by Climbing Roses
Guarded by Morning Glories
Shading two big dogs
With cold wet noses
Pressed to my face
That wake me
And shake me
Back to this reality…
Which is oh so far from
My mind’s dream place
And I’m somewhat dismayed…
But it’s still okay…
Cuz there’s
Nothing wrong with dreaming…
Nothing wrong with dreaming…

Oh, my love
your eyes are not "plain blue"
they are the ocean waves on a cloudless day
outlined by the zaffre atmosphere
a field of bluebonnets speckled with green leaves
like the world floating in space

oh, my love
your eyes are not "just brown"
they are the earth after it rains
dense and brimming with life
they are dark chocolate cake drizzled with honey
they are espresso stained pages you brought home
from the coffee shop you frequent

oh, my love
your eyes are not "simply green"
they are spring's first bud
they are foot deep in a lake
they are a northwestern forest
as emerald as your mother's ring

oh, my love
you are so much more

The clock was running and the hour was late
my mind was racing at a crazy rate
the traffic on the road was oh so dense
big trucks roared by, their drivers were tense.

My troubled mind was blue but I looked up
and saw a sprinkled wealth of buttercup.

And then I knew that even in delay
the fate awaiting later in the day
would not be something that I had to fight
for I’d remember then this splendid sight .

Along the way bluebonnets were ablaze
swaying in the wind and giving praise.

If on my path misfortune should I cross
when I encounter pain and suffer loss
I hope I can recall the glory of this drive
give thanks and praise that I too am alive.

I hope that on my journey I’ll look up
and see the sprinkled wealth of buttercup.

I like to go outside
In the early morning
The air is fresher
I can think clearly
Songs from the birds are so sweet
I close my eyes and inhale and exhale
Getting every thing in sync
Noticing the red sky
When I'd been out for awhile
I stand in the wind letting it blow my hair to and fro
Reminising of days gone by
When I ran through the field of bluebonnets
Laughing and enjoying
The beginning of the day
The morning
When I awake
The windows up
The curtains are waving goodbye to the night
And my smelling senses are going crazy
For breakfast awaits me
The morning
So pleasant
So calm
I wish it could stay morning
All day
Just for one day
I love the mornings

The hum of the fan
sings a lullaby
as the stress of the day
falls out of the muscles

An angels cloud of a pillow
my head sinks in
covers pulled up high
warm in my womb

The sheep ramble bye
one bye one
and slowly transform
into nothing

The sandmans dust
has been sprinkled
and rapid eye movement begun
falling into the land of dreams

Landing softly
in a newly mown green field
with knee deep patches
of bluebonnets and Indian paint brushes

A creek trickles nearby
its lulling sound
a salve for any remaining pain
brim swim in its cool waters

In the distance
snow capped mountains
haloed by the sun
that hides behind it

Cottontail rabbits
on the move
pay me no mind
on their journey

The purple martins
sing their song
interrupted
by the mockingbird

A whitetail doe
and her two spotted fawns
ease by, head down,
munching on grass

Calmed, and relaxed
breathing easy and rhythmic
eyes dart around
taking in the beauty of the dream

I'm so very lonely
It's nobody's fault but hers
I wish there was someone else to blame
But no, I'm cursed
Looking back, looking down
Nothing I can do
She got me good
It's all bad
That's what's so very new

Should I have taken the chance on love?
Of course, there's no other way
And so of course I leapt
With all my courage into the fray
At first, it was OK
She seemed to like my quips
The bike rides along the bay
The bluebonnets I would bring her
Our life was a bouquet
An aphrodisiac
Up until that day
She pulled me aside
Then held my hand
Said it had been nice
But she was on her way

It was good while it lasted
But for now I'm just blasted
Blown into smithereens
My hopes are dashed
I'm afraid I've crashed
Yes, I'm squeezed with no ego
Everything's so-so
Down with a no-go
Ever since her say-so
Coming apart at the seams

And it's nobody's fault but hers

I'll bring you flowers for your hair,
a wreath of bluebonnets;
to show you that I care,
and I'll put chocolates on it.

Each treat will be a kiss from me,
a sweet to satisfy your ruby lips;
then perhaps, your heart will see,
the way my heart does funny flips.

I'll give you happiness to share,
to let you know that you are dear to me;
and you can have my love, if you so dare,
maybe then, your eyes can see.

See the yearning that in my soul does hide,
see the reticent  aura in my being shy;
know that I desire you by my side,
know the longing that in my heart does lie.

I will give you laughter for your tears,
a hand to hold when obstacles appear;
I'll help to chase away your fears,
all you need to be, my love, is near.

And filled it with your fatal presences,
The best a Texas Hill Country
Morning when the bluebonnets wept
While our bodies entwined
A sparrows song,
Your eyes enveloped the light
Of first day and I swear I could
See through Heaven's eyes,
When we shattered the noctirnal
And stroked the suns burn
Merely with unified cravings,
The deer crossed an unspeakable
Verse under the parting night,
I collapse in fatal gratitude
Taking willingly
The thorn of your memory;
Stuck intimately with the rising sun
And born of the wound
Was filled a cup
Encompassing the four things
Love:
Pain which your lips
Promised never to cause me :
Passion which endured as much as time
Swallows the years and closes the
Mouth of the things we remember:
Memory which sustains my soul and erodes my body:
Loyalty to the deceit that in some
Place when we were as perfect frames
In Time's womb
Eternal and everlasting
Where I pray as a Pagan
To return where no one can,
Still my cup empties with gratitude
And overflows tears I cannot
Contain within the spherical
Shell of your precision,
Cut deeply;
And with a despairing gratefulness
my cup runneth over.

Blue and white and lots of green,
filling up the two-track scene,
deep in Texas in the spring,
so many memories do this bring.

Brownwood, Texas is the place
Where we go to give game chase
Deer, Turkey, Dove or Quail
That’s where we track them on the trail
From a ground blind or a tree
This is where we feel most free

Drinking whiskey by firelight
Or sometimes it’s Cold Coors Lite

Hot, Cold, wind or rain, we don’t care
To fill our tag is our prayer
Rifle, Shot gun or Bow
To fill our freezer, with, bird, buck or doe

Sometimes we go just to camp
In the morning it is damp
Horse licking dew off the tent
Sometimes this is how night is spent

Flashing lights and UFO’s
No one believes us but we know
Taking Picture’s in Bluebonnets in spring
Lots of Stories about everything

Driving across condemned bridges
Chasing Deer across Fences
Busting bottles on the Sign
Driving through the River that winds

Multiple Jeeps, wheelers, Trucks of all Kinds
But Polaris Ranger is head of the line
When it comes to getting around
Smoothest ride on the ground

Kids, chase rabbits, and lizards galore
Collecting bones, climbing trees and more
20 years on this lease
Sometimes it is good for Peace

Of the soul and of the mind
A great place to escape the grind
Miles, Years, Family and Friends
It has paid in dividends

i said goodbye to the desert
spit out a few grains of rust and sand
as i sat in the back of my mother's grand marquis
i was bidding farewell to the long plaid skirt i wore to school every day
the school that was mercifully unmarred by bullets
the glitter on the popcorn ceiling of my grandparents' home
the smell of an overwhelming saturday evening
which stank of discarded waste and cigarettes
we were going somewhere special
goodbye nuevo laredo

eight years later
i said goodbye again
to a neat little home
nested tightly amongst the bricks of others
a hilly backyard
bluebonnets sashaying on the side of the highway
mexican restaurants every three blocks
that could never replicate what i once had
stars and stripes holding steady in the shade of a sycamore tree
a glittering city in the distance
i was in love
and i was going somewhere special

i was elated to escape
both of my previous lives
always finding myself awash with uncertainty
adrift as i committed and uncommitted to a series of distractions
from the beastly recesses of my pruned little brain
that snarled about hopelessness
abandonment
a lack of worth
and motivation
maybe i knew i was meant to run
since the moment of implantation

my new neighborhood is impeccably silent at night
no hollers to strain my ears for
no ominous pop-pop-pops
(was that a firework or could it be...)
no jovial music with thundering basses and large round drums
i eat pork drenched in teriyaki sauce
and drink green tea in the evenings
on the train, i gaze at the empty stares of other passengers
my gaze is also unreadable
i practice the strokes of a kanji
one, two, three...
my husband and i meander through temples
heavy and groaning with the weight of a thousand years
of life
benevolent buddhas and Cheshire-grinned demons
i can't help but think of the message of a western God
that my mother recited to me every night in the black of our room
sometimes i shuffle my feet in the square space of my living room
to the tune of cumbia

i used to think that i didn't have an identity
no confinement to a culture conceived by the likes of men
but i am what i am
and i never actually escaped

The red dirt runs like blood through my veins,
The wind that fills my lungs rattles window panes,
I am the product of calloused hands and all that they have made,
I am Texas,

I reflect the barren beauty of my home,
I write down wisdom only grandmothers know,
I live on the sweat of my father's brow, a man who reaps what he sows,
I am Texas,

My voice is the hymn the church goers sing,
Whether or not they believe in what the Lord will bring,
For love or loss or redemption or rain we sing,
I am Texas,

I have seen the fires burn the open plains,
And scattered dirt, like their ashes, over freshly dug graves,
And seen new growth take both their place,
I am Texas,

I have gone from clear skies to rain,
I have cried out, like rolling thunder, in pain,
I have struck out like lightning in blinding rage,
I am Texas,

But my love has bloomed like bluebonnets in the spring,
I have spoken as sweetly as the mockingbird sings,
My touch has been as soft as the whitest cotton you've seen,
I am Texas.

We're just friends from school
You think we're star-crossed lovers
Telling me we are meant to have children together
In a field of bluebottles and bluebonnets
It's like I'm speaking in nonets
To try to get to you
I would hate to ice your heart
But you can't tell anything apart
By telling me your unyielding love when you have a Man already
There is no chance of us going steady
There's plenty
Of other men who will become enticed by your ways
Even If we were to be one
We would become aged and you'd throw me away
For a more seemingly attractive man
Trust me, I know your entire plan
Don't get mad when I try to be with other women
Loyalty has me smitten
Your affection seems like a piton
And I won't fall into it
Honey, I hate to sever your ports
But I'm ending the eternal distort
That'll we'll be
Because I know truly
You won't want to be with me
Until the day I die
This isn't a blues poem, this is the truth
If you can be strong enough to cope
With this reality
You're more then welcome to watch from the sidelines
But don't you dare violate the guidelines.

Words are both angels and devils
they set my mind on the divine
capture the beauty of Earth
from the budding pear tree across the way
then back here to this room where
words become my servants and masters.

Spring teems green.
Bluebonnets blanket Texas hills
yet I cannot find words for
their delicacy and glory,
nor how these tiny miracles make me feel.
How do I capture the incredible life
coursing through stems, leaves and blooms?

Yet without words no sacred volumes
to guide us
no Rumi, Dickens and Austen on shelves
no Dylan, Jay-Z, Lennon, or Parton in our ears
no Case, Willow, Khoi, Pradip sparkling in our eyes.

Yes demons fly in them
but words capsulize the depth, breadth, and passion
of the human soul
I bow to these small human creations
and how they speak the universe.

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                  A Lawnmower in Idle Repose

I found a treasure of bluebonnets in a weedy ditch
Next to the shell of a rotted armadillo
That’s where the mower stopped (“son of a /////!”)
(Apologies for the verbal pecadillo)

I bought the mower from a long-time friend
It worked for an hour and came to a stop
Its beginning was also pretty much its end
Its career has been long visits to the shop

One of life’s great truths (there are many more):
Never, ever buy a used lawnmower

I am the deepening mystery
I am the weighted blanket that enfolds in midnights
I am a force of Nature
I am the morning coo-ing at daybreak
I am a dew covered field of
swaying wheatgrass
I am bluebonnets by the side of a
little used road
I am fall leaves underfoot
I am a sudden rain shower
I am hightide in a full moon
I am ocean waves crashing the rocks
I am a gently flowing stream
I am the slow breeze that softly
kisses the neck
I am the hard and high wind that leaves one grasping for purchase
I am the lightning storm that ends a scorching day
I am the scorching day
I am an electromagnetic field
I am a solar flare
I am the hazy stillness before the earthquake... and
Every now and again
I am the mothaphuckin earthquake

There is a meadow in my mind,
a place of sacred mystery
where an endless sea of bluebonnets
wave when they see me on the
far side of the barbed wire strands.
I am no stranger, it seems.  A
weathered oak, scarred by lightening
and the anguishes of time, knows my name,
and the cluster of muted green
cedar bushes swing their arms
like children begging for an embrace.

Shoes in hand, I wiggle my toes into
the warm, fertile earth and I am captured
by a current of life, electrified by
a surging stream of energy.  Oneness, often
imagined, overwhelms.  Here
everything connects.  All things matter.
One heart beats for all and I gasp at my
deep belonging.  It is as if I am
birthed again as creation's
beloved child.

There is a meadow in my mind
and I am sure I have sat among
these fragrant flowers before.

Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                An Afternoon LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER Walk
             Along Beer Can Road and County Dump Extension

Dewberries LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER sassafras seedlings LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER Virginia creeper LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER pine cones LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER crumbling oak leaves from last summer  LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER winds sighing in the pine tops LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER a little plum tree LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER Canada goldenrod LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER poplar LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER swamp oak LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER mourning doves LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER slanting evening sunlight LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER Chickasaw plum LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER nightshade LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER red spider lilies LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER a skink bluebonnets LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER clouds in the west LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER spiderwort LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER a long eared rabbit loping across the road LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER sorrel LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER a feather from a bluebird LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER waving field grasses LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER the neighbor’s cows browsing in peace LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER a crane flying up from a pond LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER crows fussing at me from the woods LITE A FINE PILSNER BEER…

Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                                 Time is not a ****** Tyrant

                                Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 16

Time cannot be a tyrant; it is but a created thing
Like bluebonnets, butterflies, and bumblebees
Painted with pencil or pen by a Hand divine
And set in place as a measure of being

Time cannot be our enemy; we live along it
And like the ground it stabilizes us in place
And like our eyes it gives us vision to see
Each other in our Spirited nobility

Life is not what we take nor what is taken
But what we bring -
Time cannot be a tyrant; it is but a created thing

the boy scout in you died
when you were 16.
the creatures of the wilderness
of the brush and bramble
the mountains and basins
held vigil at the low-lying ranch with its
wide-brimmed eaves casting shadows
on the lake in the evening light
the viper slithered solemn
the mockingbird warbled wistful
the frog croaked creaky
the monarch flittered fretful

i couldn’t care the way you did
you wanted that freedom because
you were never afforded it
not by the crucifix nor your family
you wanted to be able to go
anywhere, anytime, at your own will
so you logged your 30 hours,
did the lessons
you earned your freedom

i wonder if you’re a good driver:
if you shout and swear like my parents
when cut off on the freeway
or if road rage takes a backseat
to the sheer pleasure of coasting on
highways and night air
breathing syncopated
with your heart beating in 6/8

i want to be in your shotgun seat
no maps, i want to get lost with you
miles? we’ll quantify distance with time:
five hours in any direction,
smug with the knowing that
wherever we’ll end up
texas’s blazing lone star
will still shine overhead

sheaves of hallowed rays gathered
like threshed wheat
sun biting the rolling golden plains
of our faces, mother of pearl spittle
dribbling from my lips in ecstasy
(i could never stop drooling
while napping)
an almost imperceptible
etch-a-sketch grin
betraying your apparent enjoyment

i imagine you splayed on
limestone and shale
toes tickled by mountain water
or balancing on the bow-legged
boughs of some mighty fallen oak
swollen strawberries skinny dipped in
marshmallow fluff
blistering over open fire
mottled black and praline brown
sticky chocolate between our fingers
all in our very own golden afternoon

i imagine your lips on mine in a
humid school locker room
choking back bile and something else
as i succumb to your gnawing
an indomitable wildness emanating
from my skin, fierce, foreign, fickle
like the stubborn shimmer of pollen
caked on my leaden eyelids

i imagine your neck making
sweet amends with mine
carotid against carotid,
lifeline on lifeline
tracing cherry-red capillaries
with fingers that could speak to wood
protruding from carpenter’s palms
soft and creased like origami cranes

the little love you can spare me
broils me alive
what bitterness in my bone marrow
maillard-sweetened as the days pass
burn fast, burn bright kindling
summer eats me alive and it's glorious

i imagine that you fight for this
(because i refuse to fight any longer
for a love that i'll never receive)

your mirth, you sacrificed
in the name of growing up
because you knew **** well
that with happiness came
the certain promise of pain
the boy scout's compass,
the adventure, the calling,
tucked away neatly in a box
and traded for more classes,
extracurriculars, exams,
time spent withering behind screens
more, more, more, something, anything,
to plug the gaps and fix the leaks
because things are better this way, right?
you don't stop because running towards
the unreachable is familiar, comforting

my mother can attest to the fact
that i have no sense of direction
but my heart has always
stood strong and pointed true
i will be your due north, your polaris,
with a quiet majesty rivalling a
thousand sunsets and moonrises
bearing sharp as the bite of june
asphalt on the bare soles of feet

still, even below our tie-dye sky
we found even darker corners
to sequester ourselves in
when threatened with the
possibility of light

i want to share milkshakes with you
in red-white checkerboard-clad diners

i want to stargaze among bluebonnets by your side
the breath of the creek thick in the air

i want to bake cookies upon cookies together
until you are fragrant with butter and toffee

i want...i want...