time

Picture’s Read

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Life creates the lines we wear.
They’re traced upon the face we share.
Smiles turned up spread everyday joy.
Pouty faces think hearts a toy.
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Lips arced down build no bridges.
Crinkled brows scaled ridges.
Eyes bright glow through the night,
eyes down dwelt shade their light.
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Enthusiasm shines with a spark.
Heartache shines in the dark.
Time wrinkles the more we press.
Smooth is felt, not a guess.
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Directions clear when maps unfold.
Routes we’ve drawn, our story told.
Hellos leave more to see.
Loves image is good bye free.
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I wish for the lines of long ago.
I wish to watch that of another grow.
A fateful glance we’re sure to know,
little things make the big picture show.

~*~
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Sticks and Stones

Just a stick of wood,
that feels so good.
A pencil awaits a hand,
for alone it can not stand.
And lie it never should.
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With paper it melds,
emotion thus swells.
Then feeling as should,
the lines understood.
And life’s pokes it quells.
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The mind set free,
the future we see.
The past that is earned,
a new leaf is turned.
But breaks will always be.

~*~
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Skipper’s Lane

Around the bend from the church on main,
lies a quaint little street, called Skipper’s Lane.
T’was on this path a young lad dwelled,
before the streets’ name or the lad propelled.
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The tale goes: At the head of a cove the sandbar’s long.
The water’s choppy and the currents strong.
A young lad fished, he netted all day.
At sunset he rowed to the town up the bay.
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He traded his catch for supplies and some cash.
He then rowed back home and buried his stash.
Years soon passed and the lad’s now a man.
The time was now to dig up an old can.
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The cans held his savings, he’s more than a few.
The man, now called Netty, had something to do.
Netty rowed into town, to buy but not sell.
He bought a new boat with a bright shiny bell.
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He towed the boat home not knowing how to sail.
A year’s practice behind then caught in a gale.
Netty stayed calm, his life, spent afloat.
Home was in sight when he saw a tossed boat.
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The boat missed the inlet, now blowing out to sea.
Though Netty unsure, he could not leave them be.
Adjusting his sails Netty raced to give aid.
Soaked and battered he would not be afraid.
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Lost memories filled young Netty’s head.
Recalling the night, he was almost dead.
The sky was black and the water cold.
The ship sat heavy, filled with gold.
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Remembering screams and cracking wood,
the ship’s bell rang, gone childhood.
The boy hit the water and woke on the shore.
The life he once knew was no more.
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A crashing wave broke Netty’s trance,
one second more he’d lose his chance.
He leaned on his tiller to bring his boat near.
The boats colliding mustered everyone’s fear.
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Netty thought quickly and dropped his sheet,
then heaved his net around a cleat.
He pulled and pulled with all his might.
His biggest catch was that stormy night.
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All returned safely before the sun rose.
Netty now a hero was gifted new clothes.
New friends were made, now one’s Netty’s wife.
Recounting his memories he bought a new life.
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The gold recovered, Netty bought lots of land.
He built a grand home well away from the sand.
The harbor in view he watches over his fleet.
The town, now prosperous, gave Netty a street.

~*~
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Persistent

In this time of “writer’s block”,
I stare blankly at paper and clock.
With jumbled prose I try to think,
should life be guided by pen and ink?
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Does a rhyme decide a story’s path?
Can a re-verse save us from the wrath?
The day is young; there are things to do,
but the sky’s gray with a snowy hue.
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The air is cold, I’ll assume,
my spirit’s locked within a room.
Doors will open if I choose.
When all’s lost there’s none to lose.
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Persistence colors the choices we make.
Is persistence for persistence sake?
Do we persist simply to win?
If direction’s unclear should we begin?
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Like life, love, thought and art,
questions unanswered are the start.
Life ticks forward with us or without.
Thoughts will be shared without a doubt.
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Art will be made with all the thoughts had.
And love makes life happy but also sad.
Dilemma’s obscure visions true.
A vision obscures my dilemma new.
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I’m seeking an end to what’s now fraught.
The past’s the lesson of what’s been taught.
And like life, love, thought and art,
ends shade poetic an open heart.

~*~
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Up Down Forward

I received a letter on Tuesday, last week.
The handwriting familiar, deserving of a peek,
it was written by me when I am much older.
The language’s strong, I’m certainly much bolder.
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Curiosity peaked and horror’s at bay.
I couldn’t believe what I had to say.
Mistakes I’ll be making are such a huge sum.
The time I’ll be wasting makes my brain numb.
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A warning I thought but that didn’t compute.
If anything changed my letter is moot.
It got me so worried I lay awake all night.
Realizing later I did enough things right.

~*~
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Special Days

When time and luck do collide,
our good fortunes cannot hide.
Eyes will open for a special day.
Doors will open and we’re on our way
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We never know what lies ahead,
footsteps lead to where we’re led.
Eyes will open to a special sense.
The past is now our best defense.
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Prepared are we to stand alone,
arms outreached, our distance flown.
Eyes open for a special one.
Hearts open and the future begun.
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Bound as one we’ll double our best,
joy and bliss will know no rest.
Eyes will open to our special place.
Wound are we with a special face.
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Hands of time will gently sweep.
Ups and downs we’ll deftly leap.
Eyes open for another special day.
Doors locked and in love we’ll stay.

~*~
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Celestial Time

Embers fade, waning moon

Sounds of day coming soon

Nights of bliss with our love

Counting stars that dance above

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Sharing secrets from the past

Recalling joy that didn’t last

Time’s treasured in the dark

Horizons clear with the rising arc

*

By day we grow, eves recede

Priorities given to what we need

Quills in hand, arm in arm we’ll fly

Soaring and diving in the endless sky

*

In search of a hilltop on which to lie

It is here I’d wish to die

To rest and ponder life’s miracle

Where the arc becomes full circle

~*~

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See the Light

My candle flickers in distant panes.
Main Street silent, the starlight wanes.
Icy fingers grip my bones.
Frozen breath chills my moans.
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My story begins and none too soon.
Shadows long for the hidden moon.
The hour’s late, the journey’s long.
The sun’s rise unseen if again I’m wrong.
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My goal’s a king born a pawn,
To live again, this moment’s gone.
Blindness hides the cold hard truth.
Hindsight magnifies the lies of youth.
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My pride swallowed, visions lull.
Biting winds gnaw at my skull.
Clouds engulf a blizzard near,
too many steps, too late to swear.
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My goal is clear, survive the night.
There is no choice to stand and fight.
The path uncharted, each step’s new,
to trip and fall death’s in view.
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My head is pounding, my body aches.
The thrust is forward to reverse mistakes.
Apologies given but time doesn’t care.
Words mean nothing if not to share.
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My mind is blank, my heartbeats race.
Howling wolves set the pace.
Clothes in tatters, my bare feet bloody.
If I shall live, my pain they’ll study.
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My memories linger of a forgotten past.
Dreams awaken, a future’s cast.
Dawn surely near, nightmares recede.
My eyes then open to all that I need.

~*~
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Seasoned

The first whiff of autumn’s in the air.
A moment new that we’ll all share.
The flowers wilting and sweaters out,
should be ready, there’s never a doubt.
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But each day’s new is always the way.
Only yesterdays are here to stay.
The leaf cycles; green, gold to gone.
To the earth they all are drawn.
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With time comes age for good and bad.
We all cycle forward, happy and sad.
And like the leaf we too shall fall.
Winter’s coming, but not for all.

~*~
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Sun Burn

My patience for summer is wearing thin.
The novelty’s over for peeling off skin.
I’m looking forward for autumn to begin,
when cool, crisp morning’s return a grin.
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The leaves will turn to gold and reds.
They’ll float to the ground nourishing beds.
Rakes will be pulled from overstuffed sheds,
soon replaced with our winter sleds.
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Christmas and New Year’s, Oh what a blast,
though the warm, cheery feelings never last.
The future’s bitter cold, I long for the past.
The seasons shine on our natures contrast.
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But spring will come and life’s renewed.
Optimism blooms and reality’s skewed.
Normality is as is the cycle it’s viewed.
With eyes to the stars, the burn subdued.

~*~
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Need

The more we have, the more we need

The more we want the more the greed

Living lives consumed consuming

Conned intoTo dwell in a time lush and green debt for things amusing

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Day by day we run in place

Tracks grow longer on our face

The wheels of commerce set the pace

Rolling over this human race

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Blinded by labels to make us feel

Sculpted by images to make us real

In the darkness all are blind

Disappearing piece of mind

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To dwell in a time lush and green

The futures blight not yet seen

Waters’ pure cascading clean

Paths uncluttered, bodies lean

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Family and friends share to survive

Living life to be alive

Preserving futures, planting seed

Thus is all we really need

~*~

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Good Morning Sunshine

Good morning sunshine wherever you are.
The sky is gray and the spring is far.
The winter blue’s now in sight,
reminded daily by the length of night.
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Soon will be snow, slush and rain,
every chore’s a major pain.
Walk’s now unpleasant in my little town.
So we’ll bundle up and hunker down.
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The calendar I’ll watch and mark each date,
envious of those who hibernate.
To sleep all winter sounds like fun,
then awakened to a warming sun.
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But I’m just a human, as are you.
We endure the weather, it’s what we do.
But for me the heat’s never too far.
Good morning sunshine there you are.

~*~
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Contrasts

I need a new color or maybe a sound.
I need something to get my head off the ground.
High in the clouds is where I should be.
Soaring with eagles; majestic and free.
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Exploring a world where peace is the norm.
A place where everyone survives the storm.
A place where kids all laugh and parents sing.
Where old folks still giggle on the backyard swing.
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We’ve no need for bombs, guns or war.
We’ll all have love, can’t hurt, can cure.
Oh, What a place this world could be.
If only that eagle, were you and me.

~*~
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