this word thing
this contraption of vowels and apostrophes
this similar
fashion of symbols
some, having danglies,
and some, Bold upper teasings
which when alone have no meaning
but in well grouped arrangements
make metaphors
or make new things
much like humans who
created them.

A warped neck on a Fender Strat , a broken bottle of Johnnie Walker Black . Torn felt on a mahogany billiard table , catfish fillets scorched on the fire , rendered inedible ..
A marvelous , precision tractor engine seized from loss of oil , a bumper crop of peaches killed by frost ..
An empty bottle of malt vinegar , wind blown lovely cherry pipe tobacco lost forever ..
Red ripe homegrown tomatoes shredded by hail , soft shelled pecans dropped in the well ..
First snowflakes of Winter melted on warm city streets , green grass left to die beneath a cloth sheet ..
Concord grapes dried on the vine , watermelon picked before it's time ..
Homemade biscuits burnt in the oven , true love within reach left undiscovered ..

sounds
of dawn arise
vast dark hollows

slow ebb
triumphant lights
peaks appear o'er

sun sneaks
up to an edge sights
of stirring things

awakens stretches
night sleep from their
rested limbs

songs sing
near far along
the peripheral

stepped out from her black and white room
she already knew everything about the color red
as she saw the apple for the first time
in hues tasted it with her eyes
took a large bite of it
she already knew she did not know
everything, except black and white

Turquoise little pills
For the sleep that I miss.

Find me staring at the edge
That has once met my wrist.

I am feeble when alone,
But never found the warmth of
Others.
Say I'm running from my past or
Simply hiding from my mother.

Everything I say
Always contradicts my actions.

How could I never care when my
Lungs are full of passion?

Deplete me of the madness,
I'm so sick of seeing ghosts.
It has almost been a year.
Why do I still hear Rose?

People fail to understand,
So they flee so swiftly.

Just take my heart slow and
Break that **** so quickly.

Walking through the hood.
What is left for me here?

I'm just living and I'm loving.
In a battle with my fears.

Walking alone on snow covered mountain roads,
Everything is changing while clouds fly through a brilliant blue sky,
Slay riding down steep hills,
The sun is getting high,

In the blink of an eye;

An old cabin in the woods, with a warm fireplace burning,
Another blink of an eye,
Snow falling lightly on roads, Skiing down hills, Drinking wine while,
 Covered with a blanket in front of a warm fireplace with you,
Want to stay, never let you go.

You and I together on a bench in front of a frozen pond,
Covered in a blanket, Taking your hand, Is this heaven?
Fate continues to point me to my Destiney I see every night in my dreams. 
 You and I making memories,
Opening my eyes wide,  I see you're still here, Not a dream.

Our home with a warm fireplace burning,
Our children singing,
Snow falling lightly on mountain roads, Skiing down hills, 
Drinking wine while covered with a blanket in front of our fireplace,
Want to stay, not to go, I love you...


Copyright © 2015 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.

There's a song
that forces my memory back
to a train in Chicago.
I watched through the window
the trees passing.

Two days.
The warmth of your body
and the warmth of the fire
indiscernibly bound.
Embraced as we were.
Woven as our hearts were
in the Winter, just west
of Chicago.

The two of us, suspended,
stunned but not questioning,
our ability to feel
the absolute brilliance of things.

Have an eye of compassion.
Have an outstretched hand.
Have a gentle mouth with which
to carry sensitive words.
So that you might:
see the love in others,
reach those stranded in the outer orbit of life,
and speak words that carry
others to the heights of love.