Google+ Followers

Saturday, October 26, 2013

the river's bend


If I sit here quietly, oh river’s bend,
will you share with me the stories
of long before your shading trees
were cut down, when wild deer
used to stop on your banks
to drink from the edge when
cool clear water ran, in the mornings
when mist would hover like a veil
while rainbow colored dragonflies
would play tag with the gold and silver
fish whose heads would rise from
underneath your clear blue water

tell me of when the Potawatomi Indian
children would play and mothers would
bathe them in your stream,
when Chiefs, ‘keepers
of the fire’, would sit and speak
then dance in celebration
of Mother Nature’s spirit watching
over all the land and your waters
would run coming from the Mississippi
bends far away washing rough edges away

tell me of when a soft blanket had been
laid upon your grassy noll with a basket
filled of apples and grapes,
bread made by hand from wheat fields
just round the bend and two lovers would
sit sharing their yesterdays with the day
thinking about their tomorrows in each others
embrace

tell me of all the lonely tears that trickled down
onto your grass from the elder man's cheeks that
had sat here in nostalgia, fond memories of his most
beloved partner in life now in the hands of
the great spirit as he awaits his own departure
from your river’s banks to join the spirit
of the Eagle who'd soar hovering over to fish
in your pristine stream

Oh, river’s bend if I sit here quietly will you bless
me with more whispers of those things that
passed by in your stream and made you smile

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

alone, grey and cold


tiny spits of drizzle turned ice cool
sprinkling all around
the sky is grey
birds have laid their nests
some in thick brush
and in the bushes
throughout my yard
I can hear them chirping
rustling about in
their cove for winter rest
quiet abounds
a feel of abandonment
from life’s verve
people in their homes
afraid of the cold

this grey before the snow
I’m not fond of it
all seem to choose isolation
as if they’re distancing
as if they’ve all run off
to some place in the dark
I feel left alone
a childhood memory

I know that all
is born alone
all die alone
view a star in the sky
looking up at night
how wondrous the fullness
of winks and sparkles
yet stare at one and notice
the black that surrounds it
leaves it isolated and cold

we’re here
in the same nest
I like to hear rustling
talk to me
talk to someone left alone
an abandoned child, the elderly,
a dog
all, once had someone
love is love only when shared

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

perennial


like a flower whose petals
desiccated by winter’s cold
is this the way you see me
now that I am old

you used to touch me tenderly
as if without your gentleness
I would break and shatter
In your hands  

you’d kiss my eyes my nose
run your fingers through my hair
you’d whisper such sweet words to me
kiss my lips till they turned red

now you walk by me
without your eyes meeting mine
you say the words ‘I love you’
without a feel of love inside

don’t you realize that
I am a perennial
if you water me and till
my soil my petals will
replenish fill with color

and when you next wish
to hold me to your face
smell my freshness, touch me
feel me, I will whisper what
my heart spoke once before…

                        ‘do not disdain portrayals of love
                        nor feign affection but receive
                        with open arms and heart
                        life’s every emanation
                        for loves they falter
                        and tend sometimes to
                        fade away when hearts are
                        scorned and cry from day to day
                        do not fold within like a
                        flower sleeping at the end of its season
                        but always leave a little
                        room to start again’

Monday, October 21, 2013

"And they call it, puppy love"


sky changes hue from mornings
thru mid day to evening
the clouds they soar
some stratus fast some cottons slow

days go by, weeks and
months travel in packs
they bundle in years

change is constant, chaos its drink
yet through all this, love is the same
there’s blue, there’s grey, there’s red
and there's unconditional

when first I knew love
was from it’s absence
clouds covering the sun,
stars not appearing at night,
when she walked away

doc told me today
my little one is being taken away
by an insidious malady
his cuddles and warmth
soon to be replaced,
abounding my day, with tears

I used to push love away
not deserving of it
abandoned as a child
uncaring cold took its place
then one day love swallowed my heart

love is a curious spirit
sometimes I wish I’d never
known it so in its absence
the pain would not be so great

Oh well, if through my latter years
the changes and chaos of the universe
should leave room for me to witness love again
I’ll probably hold it, embrace it and hope
if its absence rears again
it will be when my eyes have, forever, closed  

Sunday, October 20, 2013

stranger in the midst


a stranger has crawled under my skin
with aged folds, long unkempt nails
he struggles to bathe every other day
his torn unwashed flannel shirt
sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans worn
needing to jump in the shower with him

he carries luggage, inside strewn pictures
and olden bound notebooks
with smudged pencil scribbles
and ink written memories now run
from line to line with the passing of time

this luggage with a skeleton key lock
has been opened takes him
on a path of trails intentionally
long forgotten he knows,
unless discarded in the river,
he'll carry this luggage around forever

he pulls out this note book,
thin wire bound card board flaps,
flips them open discovering
his forgotten demons plundered in pain
slightly legible on smudged pages stained
with tears and occasional drops
of fading blood

arm hair raise as he reads these
sadden memories causing his eyes
to weld with tears, heart laments 
with estranged beating rhythms
struggles confronting his past
wrestles with anguish and anger

I realize I do not like his company  
so I close the notebook flap
toss it back into the decrepit old luggage
I lumber to the rivers edge fling it
with great might out as far as possible
watch it as slowly to the bottom
it sinks where it will catch passing
debris and fish will nest upon it

so long stranger