tell me of your journey

tell me my friend of your journey

so that I may once again experience
the excitement

my legs no longer have strength

to traverse the landscape like i
once could, my lungs no longer
hold the breath of verve

i wish to hear of your sailing

the sea hearing only the welcoming
osprey and the slapping of the waves
against the bow

i wish to hear about the little seen birds

amidst the forest of trees where few
have trailed and so all scurry quickly
away to hide from the stranger visiting
their sacred abode

through your eyes and strength of

youthful legs and arms tell me of
your conquest of the Tetons, Rockies
and Andes where the lineage of my
ancestry also cast their shadows

tell me of the song the winds sang

when you stood atop the cliffs
in irish lore and the rice fields where
my buddies left their souls

tell me of all this my friend for

my legs no longer have the strength
my lungs no longer hold the breath
but my soul still wants to live amidst
the dream filled memories that my
heart beholds

 

letter from Jules

dear papa

your tears do not go unnoticed by me

even though most might consider me just a dog
i have feelings too. i appreciate when you take me
for a walk, when you throw the ball
when then we sit together in the grassy knoll
and watch things and sticks flow down the stream
i want so much to jump in to catch that darn stick
that thinks it’s getting away. i remember that one
time i did and you had to come in and rescue me.
i would have been ok but you showed how much
you cared for me.

i notice lately my legs are not as agile like when I

used to chase you around the tree or in the park
when you’d bring my sister Jaz so that we could chase
each other till our tongues were dragging in the
grass. i notice my eyes can’t see things much any
more and am having trouble hearing your call…"Jules"
i love it when you call my name. i love it when you pick
me up and we sit together on your favorite couch, you
reading or writing something on that screen thingy and
i lay my head on your lap.

hey papa, i know i’m getting old because we go to the

doctor more often lately. i want you to know papa
that all we can do is hold each other tight while we
still can. we don’t even have to say the words
because our hearts tell our story. don’t cry too much
papa when i’ve left for my next journey. i know you will
and it’s ok if it makes you feel better. we will see each other
in the next journey beyond soon. you’re no spring chicken
either (ooh, i love chicken). hey papa, i want you to know
i love you and you were the best friend and papa
ever.


your child
jules    



* written for imaginary garden with real toads imagined by               Herotomost, 'Lost Art/letter writing' challenge

carbon emissions: Pres. executive order

you know the air you breathe, I breathe also

the earth you walk upon i too traverse
the ocean that you swim and admire
the life that lives within
what your eyes see is also my view
but I think the colors differ and what i
choose to observe is unique to me
and you to you

our hearts, oh yes the heart, it beats

but the rhythms and the passions, vary
mine feels the Native Indians tears
disgust for the barren earth, denude
of trees, habitats and nests eschewed,
debris filled seas, net snarled fins,
mercury in floating lifeless scales,   
spears in the hearts of whales

i howl and hope the wind carries

my cries and those of the same heart
across the mountain and sea
into the ears of those who cannot hear
who selfishly worry to cost of the money in
their folded fist forgetting of the little hand
cupped in the other. will they ever see
a dolphin swim free, an eagle soar, a wolf
howl at the moon, an owl perched
in a forest tree?

my path

i have taken a road only I could have taken

have loved only in the way that I can
maybe it’s taken some time to learn how
but in this trail traversed I have found
that jagged edges can be honed smooth
and thorns can be removed
for the path goes on even without me
but I wish to be on it for this is why
i am here
in my little world that i have traveled
i wish and hope that when i loved someone
i have been loved

if in my journey and when i’ve met you,

i hurt you by word or deed, it was not my intent
so i’m sorry. i only wish for you the best of me
if i have misunderstood your face, your touch
your heart then it is my misgiving and
when we meet again i hope to give you that
best of me for i only wish to love and be loved
as i continue to walk on this winding road
with all kinds of pebbles, sharp and smooth
under my feet, i shall strive to be better,
to be kinder, to love

Maya Angelou

Her smile touched me because I smile

Her heart touched me as mine beats, still
And in between her words enveloped the spirit of life
She embraced all souls with her song of verve
 

As she walked in our midst she emitted the character of

all the giants of life that came before; when she cried, we cried,  
when she spoke we listened, her paint on the canvas of life
cannot be and should not be remembered as a style, a time piece
but a piece of art that transcends beyond.

I will not make reference to Maya Angelou's history, the chronology

of her life of action, their will be many who will do this. She transcends all this

"Listen to your inner self in quietude and maybe you can hear the voice of God"

gracias, Maya Angelou: RIP   

dreams of 'old'

for who is it more challenging to let go?

the man whose body once made of iron
muscular but lean and handsomeness
myth be told of chiseled cheek and jaw
and hair of onyx

or

a woman whose body curves when lying

on the beach would cause the sun to take
one last glimpse as it nested into the horizon.
her eyes and lashes fluttering, her silken skin
and wondrous bosom with lovely shapely legs
of milk and silken skin glisten in a starry night   

but

probably better said by Miquel de Uno Muno,

writing about the following;  
we wish to be taken seriously being recognized by
the complexity of our makeup, though we must
remember, while we live in this mundane existence
we are encapsulated in a shell made of skin and bone,
therefore, beauty  (in the eye of the beholder) and
sex are integral to our character for that is what we
learn to see, to touch, to feel, to love.

in our youthful naiveté, we would, oh, so carelessly

and unabashedly assert that we are more than
just body and ‘beauty is only skin deep’. we would
profess that we had exercised our minds equally
so please don’t peer at my beauty. now that time
has so quickly lapsed and the body walks at a slower
step, the eyes see through a fog and no one peers
at with the same desire, the question arises: of
whom, man or woman,  does willingness come more
readily to accept the passing of time, aging?

Desiderata; ‘…take kindly the counsel of the years,

                         gracefully surrendering the things of youth ‘

 

Love in a satchel

 

i cannot catch all those lonely tears

your eyes spill out nor can i embrace
you the way I’d like for distance is our
challenge yet my soul carries in his
virtual satchel the laconic memories
we have shared

the colors of crimson and azure blue

and the verdant green that glisten through
the tiny droplets of rain as the sun’s
yellow golden fingers tickle them and the
upside down rainbow smile evinces
reminding me of you

the soft and milky white of the

iris peddles bloom as the purple pink
lilacs scent is in the air and any where
there’s room. it fills my mind with the
recollection of your skin and the
waft of your perfume

i shall carry this with me

as I stroll through the days journey and

onto life’s sojourn and far beyond these
tender moments we’ve shared i shall
carry in the satchel of my soul.
on and on and on ~~~

letter...'wonder why'

when young breath filled our lungs

and a piece of bread was shared
when I’d cry you’d cry and when I’d
sing you’d sing we’d watch mama cry
and together we’d wonder why

we had little of what others had

but we had each other when young
breath filled our lungs and we’d look
around and others looked different
than us and they’d laugh at us but
we’d hold hands, curious we’d stare back
and wonder why

now that life has taken us in different roads

and young breath no longer fills our lungs
time has taken hermanos and hermanas
from our hold and the breathe in our lungs
so painfully evacuated when life took Mama
distance now threatens our shared existence
and we wonder why

there’s few left who shared our youthful air

can we sing again together, share another
piece of bread, come hold  each other’s hand,
watch others stare at us through this veneer
called love, the sustenance that has prevailed
within our spirit and assuage the angst and pain
and no longer shall we wonder why

  

alone

don’t know why but today
my soul hovers not

and the wind is calm
we sit next to each other

emptiness walks by, we wave

it takes a seat next to my soul
it chatters with the wind
but not with me

i ask...emptiness, why do

you sit next to me? but no words
are exchanged...it ignores me
so I sit alone

my heart beats, tethered

by subtle and quiet
it’s beat not heard amidst
the hovering of other souls

my heart aches recalling the tears

shed of life’s disdains and all
the telling of angry words
captured in its chambers

is this the way it must be

for days to come
only the wind and emptiness
to sit next to me?  

 

 

life's bed of flowers

when first I walked upon a bed of flowers

awed, i was breathlessly taken
by the aesthetic beauty, imbued into my
eyes, my sense of smell, my touch

recklessly i flailed about, rolling and laughing,

somehow knowing the incomparable joy
would be short lived and so insatiably
i consumed all I could so in recall it
is like wonderfully warmed leftovers

as time availed me with the highs and lows

rendering a roller coaster ride in life
where the first exhiliration may never be
re-lived still i choose to get back on
to feel the rush as my hair blows wildly,
the cheeks shutter in the wind, another smile

in the midst of this sojourn, a heartfelt and
expensive ride, i brush myself, comb my hair,

inhale, thrust myself again upon that wondrous
bed of flowers and become witness again to the
the smells, to the tastes, to the soft petals upon my face,  
allowing the capture of this into my soul my heart.
feigned is the innocence rebeckoning for the bliss  

my words, my riches

my words, will they fill this space

with a welcoming of someone’s eyes
not waste a second of someone’s breathe
if my words are read out loud

if I express my hearts softness

in a mellifluous tone of words will they
make me the wealthier for it
and maybe someone else’s heart

I read the words of chosen mentors, my muse

I fill my glass with the riches of the past
but more importantly with the ripeness
of the verve they lived and their love

when I pass into the next horizon

I will have, as my souls make up, a picture
of my favorite sky, my favorite tree,
the oceans roar, freedom of the osprey

as my spirit transcends into the unknown

it shall carry with it wisdom of my ancestry,
strength of my mother and her song,
the loves of my love and those who
loved me

like Tutankamun and Quezalcoatl buried with

their riches, mine will come with me
for I will have consumed them into my soul
and I’ll depart with the howling of the wolf
in the wind underneath the eagles wings

dia de madre

Mamasita J

 

a cardinal, a robin, a cowbird, a blue Jay,

a redwing black bird and a turtle dove

are orchestrating your song for today

they’re rehearsing mamasita’s lullaby

for mamasita day
 

they’re just outside my window

recalling your favorite tune

you know the one in the morning you’d sing

while the tiny rainbows glittered inside the dew
 

I vividly remember as a little child

with my hermanos and hermana

gathering, holding hands looking outside

the window as the day begins. you’d tell us

if one sings la cancion ‘esta mananita’

the morning the sun would rise joyously,

the birds would sing its welcome

and you were always right
 

so today, for you mamasita, with the

back up choir of robins and sparrows

and all their other amigos and even

some ground squirrels chiming in

i sing ‘esta mananita’ to celebrate and honor

you forwithout you my life would not be
 

con muchisimo amor, mamasita,

con los angelitos donde estas hoy

te mando mi coracon, todo mi amor
 

 

tu hijo, nene

 

he ponders

he ponders, he sits and he ponders

what did, what if, why didn’t
time passes and it now lingers on
movement is active in the synapse
but the body sits dormant
he lives vicariously

he writes about what he thinks

what he sees and hears,
reads about what has occurred
somewhere, sometime and by
someone else. the earth moves
yet he sits still, pondering

listen. rumbling, rolling wheels

on rail tracks. the sound approaches
from somewhere afar. an engine whistle
blows, the heavy car on railroad tracks
steel wheels on steel rails shrill
to a squeal followed by a thrust of air
escaping from hydraulic brakes

from inside the belly of these

moving cars scurry out bipedal beings
and waiting to fill their space
queues of others herd themselves
into the now empty cars of the locomotive
taking them somewhere,
leaving someone and some place

sitting, his legs crossed like Hemmingway

the brim of his hat now shadow
his eyes. he observes the scampering
people rambling about like worker ants

a whistle blows and a loud release

escapes the compressed steam
the rolling wagon on steel wheels
moves on to that somewhere place
as he sits there, pondering

 

chrysanthemums in Spring

walking out to greet the day

unknown to what will come my way
the wind whispers through leaves of trees,
a waft of a lilac bush brings forth
a long and cleansing sneeze

a burst of laughter I then release

hiding anguish and sadden tears
a purging of jagged edges in my soul
where guilt resided and placed on hold

the fingers of the sun Spring the day

touches all in a radiance kind of way
and like a child carefree out at play
my spirit of verve is here to stay

bring to me your breath of fresh

tears of joy in morning dew
let me feel mother natures’ earth
under my feet free of shoes

this day speaks of the good and averse

in life like a shawl  o’er my shoulders
a chrysanthemum with my own hands
is knit and woven in, a symbol of
the elixir of immortality in the I Ching

 

life's amiss

she sits alone

many of the people she knew
befriended her and she them,
they’ve left now to somewhere beyond

the peddles of the yellow jonquil flower open

a closed bud just before, now it reaches for the sun
but soon the winter comes and the grey covers the light

she’s just passing through in this world where pain and

suffering is abundant yet some good and some joy
is found in the hearts of a few as they share
bread and a glass of wine or two

she sits alone now listening to the doves coo

the little bread and crumbs left to her
she shares with her winged friends
breaths left, she has but few
just passing through

mamasita, for you i sing

 
 

celebrated the remembered day of mothers

greatest gift to me, my birthday, yesterday
tomorrow will be remembered in infamy
of the day her soul departed to life’s destiny

a day of celebration comes around so quickly

a piñata hangs for excited little tots
for me, inside, there are no candies no little gifts
but joy does come in seeing family and their little kids

tomorrow I shall celebrate the spirit of the angel

who gave me life, who gave me love amidst
her struggle and her strife, she filled my days with
the joy of song to distract from the rumblings
of an empty belly and grumblings of a disheartened soul

for so many years prior, selfishly I'd lament her absence,

the empty space when no longer could I hear
her voice as days left scars and her soothing words…
(la vida es duro, mi hijo, todo va a estar bien)
Life is hard, my son, all will be ok’

I shall sing and celebrate tomorrow the songs she left behind

that would soothe me when i was lonely and alone
reminding me of a world where love is present even

after many years have passed and now that she is gone

a passage from her song;

‘si hoy el cielo se cubrio, quizas manana, brilla el sol’
(today the sky is covered grey, maybe tomorrow the sun will shine)

 

eyes of mauve and pink

I have seen your eyes before,

your smile in my dreams, i think 
I sense that we have touched
but I can’t remember where
or when

when I close my eyes
I see you walking away from me
and my voice calls out
why are you leaving
you turn around and smile

it was then wasn’t it

that we had rolled about
in mauve and pink
flowers I think
above a knoll of green

we rolled down and down

you fell atop of me
we kissed you took
your hand and touched me
then I did the same to you
once again we kissed
but this time deep

I remember you asked

…will you remember me
when you awaken from your sleep
how we rolled about and kissed
eyes deep of mauve and pink
for that moment didn’t we love
it was Spring, I think…

manana, no es mia

i sit here still and hear the cries

the mothers’ arms empty of her child
she holds in one hand the words
text on her phone “If I forgot to tell
you recently, mom, I love you

why did the sea get angry and turn

lives upside down? swallow them into
its belly before they could say their goodbyes
as they pray in their last moments for
the strength within them and those they
love and left behind

i sit here still, oceans away yet I feel

an anguish a pain of how their absence
miserably fills the emptiness
in mothers’ hearts who gave birth and
breast fed thinking they’d share life’s
challenges good and bad for years
before they themselves return
to Mother earth

we’ve been witness to the insatiable

oceans need to feed from lives in the sky
and those playing in its waves, I wonder…
these lives, are they the lucky souls, have
they been taken so that they aren’t witness
to what the rest of us may soon be
when the sky and sun is covered with smoke
of burning flesh from wars and denuded forests
and the seas will swallow the land from melting ice

dare not sit here still,  I rise and walk out side

breathe the air, kiss the earth, embrace
the trees, the birds, I hug my lover my wife
and my two canine children; tomorrow may
not be mine

Holy Day a holiday

my eyes open to the day

a vision of the sun awakens me
but even if it were a morning
of rain and grey
my eyes did open
truly a Holy Day

a soft, a heavenly coo from my

open window comes
a turtle dove, I think,
a pastoral sound of peace it brings
blessed I am, that my ears this morning hear
truly a Holy Day

and when my arms raise

my legs lift me from
a supine nighttime of dreams
that I can walk
and my voice can sing
today I celebrate
making this
a holiday
 

 

*for Susan at Poets United

hummingbird, a no show

 

the hummingbird today did not show

its wings too cold to flap in their flurry
the honey or sugar water too frozen
to sip through their tiny straw
 

robins were late to their morning feeders

cardinals, sparrows and blue jays
didn’t awaken in their symphony
the wind was too chilly on their throats
 

crabapple buds on the tips of limbs

were veiled in white from a sprinkle of snow
that should in April be ready to sprout
as the salmon in rivers be ready to spawn
 

although in winter the sky turns to grey

this morning’s spattering of white clouds are on
display as shards of sun rays pierce through
showing beginnings of the Spring’s rainbow hue
 

my spirit is slightly disheartened

by the tease of the cold and snow
yet I knew that soon in the day
this Nature’s discomfit will go away
and the crimson and green will
once again come out and play
 

when this be so, smiles will reappear

water fountain basins will be uncovered
robins and sparrows will come and bathe
and nearby the feeders of sugar water
will be visited by red throated humming birds
their gossamer wings will flit about
in that  familiar buzzing sound

*just wanted to write a small diddy for all
  the disheartened souls waiting for that Spring day