And it came to pass
in a foggy clime by the North Coast sea
far from city lights
a man became a tree.
And the seeds of life fell on good ground
and in a thoughtful way took hold
and in this sea salt air
breathed a clearer vision.
This would be no beach blanket vision
or pina colada trade wind tanning oil dream
It would be a dream of driftwood and broken shells
that once had life, where sand pipers and gulls
feed and peck away at what the tide brings in
Nightlife and nightclubs, parking spaces were memories
gaining rust on backboards and rims that sent missed shots
rebounding off into some other court and game
His daily devotion would be the ground he was planted in
and the filtered sun beaming passages of hope and inspiration
It was the simple dog walk routines of life
and pleasures found in a backyard with ball and stick
that caused his heart to bounce
Guided by the filtered sun his path was green and light
until he found himself tall and stout
as well as any of the fine trees around him
Cedar cowboys, Redwood indians, Pine tree pilgrims and pioneers,
transplants and strays in need of space and time
and unfettered vision
All because the Lord sought us out and grafted us in like new sprigs
that take hold and prosper like the blue figs of summer
and the sweet sugar pines with ends better than their beginnings
It didn't matter fog or sun all the same to him he strengthened
And after many days the bread cast upon the waters returned
in a dream where where you planted your heart
was what that mattered .
© charlie brannick 2016
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 8:40 PM UTC
I hurt
like a kid playing in the dirt
calling after a friend who had to leave
You have to pet your heart
softly back to health
sing to it softly
losing the tune
till the song comes back
Pruning the dry leaves
trimming the dying non vital parts,
A fortunate **** does better in the sun
pamper yourself with healthy thoughts
till health returns
till new rains come
sending confidence
down to the roots
back into the currents of life
and strength returns.
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
Where you live
I'll be the quiet street
where you exit and retreat
the neighbor
who by name you greet
On a cold damp winter's day
to be in the blast of furnace heat,
Your thirty year roof in the rain
to keep you dry from above,
the dirt that gets on your hands and knees
from an afternoon's work in the garden that you love.
The air that gets down deep in your lungs
after a long walk on a country lane,
A part of what brings you joy
and never causes pain,
The warm sand beneath your soles
and between your toes
And always in my heart
wherever it is you go.
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 11:33 AM UTC
Be the steady character
in this slow drama
grounded in those natural elements
time, weather, seasons
purposeful flesh and blood
that runs its course
wanting from some wishing stone
one star to follow.
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 8:03 AM UTC
The music has ceased
stirs remain from the dreamland
a sleepy voice asks what time ?
and looks for it's shoes
I had been inhaling words
in small sips for some time
and with a large exhale
a school of small fish
are returned to the wild
I always return
young and unbeaten
first sun
fresh snow on the mountain
I am the river
and this is my song.
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 1:30 PM UTC
Early before day break
before the jewels of morning sparkle
our love is there
It visits and travels
like the foreign ships that come and go
the men unload her cargo, and the fishing boats
will go out to sea for their catch
Our love is a trail we follow with vistas
where we write new chapters
Our love is the pretty colors of the orange marigold
and purple of a careless summer garden
Our love is a family of birds chirping
and in the pleasing sound of footsteps on gravel paths
Our love is heavy and it bends the ends of old oak boughs
it is in the tips of branches reaching as far as they can go
Our love is in the different dreams passing
only a few of which we share
So much of love my heart cannot contain
it is all the beautiful dreams of all the people
and in all the great songs
on this street alone there is at least 15 I do not know
A bird I know flies away,
I want to tell it something
but it flies away before I can
this too is a form our love takes
A tear forms in my eye
whether it is from cold or love
I cannot tell
I want to go somewhere
I forget where or why
I follow the scent
of the baker baking fresh morning bread
Our love has many forms .
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 10:38 AM UTC
Listen to the wind
where the river bends
get out of the boat there
this is where your life begins
Step bold in that direction
start your fire here
tomorrow plant your corn over there
everything true and in a row
You've already changed your world
now golden fields will grow.
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 12:38 AM UTC
I saw a child running
late to school
such a happy clod
you or I lost
much too deep in thought
We have the much harder task
a trip to self discovery
learning to be satisfied with less
calling less a lot
handling disappointment
being thankful
loving in a random way
please stay in yellow fields
under blue skies
where my lines can find you
Should you find anything utilitarian
please share
we may have to change
because of you I sing
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 1:28 AM UTC
Dreamt of a house built in the 40's
needing paint .
Standing on the grounds
across from a horse pen moving ladders
thinking of my lost love
Hoping she will be pleased
with my efforts.
I think about my eyesight
and how much longer I can see
And I'm thankful for my hearing
and whether or not when God speaks
to me it will be strong enough
and clear enough to make a difference.
I'm lucky to have this life
and the one I think about.
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 9:46 AM UTC
I really don't need encouragement
to go negative on myself
I need time and distance
to follow my hunches
to their own conclusions
giving up on a thing when I'm ready
No explanations necessary
Honor my agreements
Build on my own progress
Be efficient and energetic
Burn up some well directed energy
towards something useful
The thing is I know
when I'm tired
like day is tired
and goes inside and becomes night
maybe tomorrow we'll sing.
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 9:38 AM UTC