Most lives similar,
it’s how the stories are told,
that sets them apart.
Most lives similar,
it’s how the stories are told,
that sets them apart.
Ships a pair moors by night.
Each’s a vision of the others light.
Tides are changing for me and you.
To time’s beyond when waves are few.
We each of passion, both pursuing free.
Findings shared, shared passionately.
An end to this poem, I have none or care.
For a future imagined is not really there.
Theologians seek the heavens,
Astronomers the stars above.
Philosophers seek the meaning of life,
Poets seek only love.
I always carry
graduated glasses, then
one’s always half full.
A lonely sun set at half past six.
Four eyes meet, see what’s to fix.
Sparks await the candle wicks.
Clarity’s felt by candle sticks.
The sun’s warmth wakens at half past six.
Blink not to miss the wink
Mind’s run afar
Never amiss is a kiss
Hands all ajar
Orgasms of enthusiasm
Spreading seed afar
Lips luscious rest ajar
Lips longing sent afar
Lesson’s big, none small.
We’re risen to others lust.
Yet to love we fall.
The longest day’s here.
The sun’s warm and the night short.
Cold hearts have no place.
A Bushel of Pecks
Chemistry is the
solution to inertness
Fanatical & Finesse
require zealots but not zeal
Touched by humility with time to wait and see.
Humorously dashed to experiment in honesty.
Words can be precise but only when alone.
Much like life itself, it’s dark and damp beneath the stone.
A curious squirrel climbs a lilac to explore my porch.
We both wonder why I’m here.
The squirrel retreated though not defeated.
It is they who won, I remain seated.
Less I digress, more to be sure.
Life changes on a dime, I left to write with only rhyme.
Chaka baby beckons beyond, nostalgic breath I’m fond.
Dancing in an imaginary chair, day’s gray, air just fair.
Nicotine lingers, perhaps to know this first.
Sinking, swimming and drowning and yet still the thirst.
Thoughts flood of minutes, days, weeks and years.
Words flow when controlled by the moon and a sea of tears.
Laughter waves at depths unfathomable.
And the ring of life is forever shareable.
Journeys don’t end when the seeing changes.
Time begins anew when life engages.
My mind is weary; it’s a pile of abstract fluff with no thoughts to puff.
But I’ll write again tomorrow, cos enough is never enough.
A tear requires water, laughter only air.
Love’s always well done though hate never rare.
It’s the Yin and Yang of human emotions.
It’s a great big crock of elemental notions.
We invent what nature wills us to know.
Yet our mindset tells us when to stir, stop or go.
Finally, the end of the longest day of my life was over. The tears of the past months now free to flow yet strangely absent. This old house quieter than ever, the door closing behind me and the true sense of emptiness was now being felt as I never thought possible.
Leading up to my wife’s death, friends, family and of course my daughter were always close by and the grief shared by all. Now the house is dark as I stand in the hallway not wanting to turn on the light for fear of seeing the reality of finally being alone.
The hall was brighter just this morning as the sun rose and my daughter and I went off to the funeral parlor for Liz, my wife’s final service before our trip to the cemetery. The morning was crisp and clear, a distant smell of lilac hung in the air as the cars lined up for the procession.
The route chosen was considerably longer than necessary but a twisty country road in full spring bloom is a sight to be enjoyed, even if it to be the last. The funeral itself was as beautiful as anyone could expect, the morning mist lingered in the new day and the birds serenaded in the background as hundreds of mourners passed to show love, friendship and respect for a truly remarkable person. A woman whom I loved deeply for many, many years but now feeling I never fully acknowledged as a person or professional and was regretting having not expressed it more when she was alive. I hoped she knew of my love and respect for her as a mother and friend, as a physician, scientist and teacher and of course as a very lucky man’s wife.
The next few days a similar sad and hazy blur, I just roamed from one room to the next recalling all the little things that happened in each one over the thirty years living here. Each had a story, a laugh or tear, all where ours, our colors, our furniture, our books and our clutter. Each and every piece a memory and all memories of an instant in time to never be repeated. A life time that was a life’s time in the making and yet gone in an instant.
Life goes on I’m told and I would like to believe that. I’m sure for many it does. For some however it’s just not meant to be. I realized this when the crumpled remains of my car was dumped in my driveway minutes ago. And I never got to say goodbye.
sck061817 / dft
All first’s happen one time.
Seconds echo a chosen chime.
Good or bad, meant or meant not to be,
tick we must pain’s always free.
Mistakes made and signal’s crossed.
Paths fork and feelings tossed.
Years pass and pressure mounts.
Seconds loom and the hand counts.
Clocked anew, wound with care.
Wrapping remains, none’s to share.
Tower’s built and time slips away.
A distant hand wins the day.
Habitual motions come around.
The passersby haunt and hound.
Dictated emotions can’t run away.
Spindled and bound forever and a day.
Controlled by movement, most unseen.
Shattered glass cuts unclean.
Time’s told to all who listens.
Killing seconds the first hand glistens.
Time passes, does it quell?
Unheard voices ring a bell.
Seconds pass, none return.
Numbers count, much to learn.
The past behind, forward’s today.
Ears await, much to say.
Interest earned paths we’re led.
This step’s yours, vision in my head.
Up’s Never Out
People that step up
to the plate will hit a ball
To veer is human,
true’s divine, paths do follow
the width of your line.
Climbing the ladder
of success, the ass ahead
Majestic dawns birth sunny days.
Eyes open to sense new ways.
Hands embrace gifts given and earned.
Hearts share their warmth learned.
A day’s yet born yet a star is yearned.
Cycling around dimensions, three.
Horizons bend to curve all we see.
Energy’s absorbed when given free.
Settled comforts to some fond.
Or near to crest on rippling pond.
Projecting forward, life’s beyond.
OR’s’ of age when all is time,
passion drives a life sublime,
treading secure or await the chime.
Choose chosen when choices few.
Three’s what’s given, the rest up to you.
A northern shade a northern mill
Prospering times growing still
Bell towers boarded, time to kill
Cracks abound, pigeon’s shrill
Divisions divide buds as before
Docks and bays and wavy floor
Doors or windows less not more
Sky’s above all’s for sure
Light shines down space to fill
Earth’s breaking at its will
Rain quenches drenching poor
Life returns to green and cure
does not affect the future.
It is the future.
Cocoon’s built, Life crystallized
Driven by blinding ambition
Wheels grounded, rolling and tried
Steering frantically into submission
Brakes applied, directions lied
Forward’s the way to remission.
An open mind, an open door
Footsteps patter on the floor
Yet when I sit there is no more
Do more await? I unsure
To stand and be risen unknowns arise
Ceilings reachable below endless skies
Truth’s unheard written of lies
Right and wrong said before our eyes
Walls surround; Air, earth and skin
Fences seen higher trapped within
Fall and fail or leap and win?
Gates close when new sides begin