The words rush toward the reader,
Slapping her with an emotion, a thought, or feeling,
Before retreating, and leaving only a trace of that emotion,
As a retreating ocean leaves a foamy marker at the high point of its surge,
The foam disappears in time, or is replaced with the marker from the next surge.

The rhythm of this repetition,
Endless and varied as the tide, in and out, and in,
Customized at creation, powered by the gravity of the moon,
Refusing to be understood, though countless men and poets have
Devoted countless years and hours to doing so, still the mystery remains.

The mystery of life, and love, and emotion and poetry cannot be solved,
And that is the beauty of the world! A discovery produces still
Another mystery, as a line in a poem produces still
Another feeling, or a thought, or an emotion,
Understood by no one, interpreted by all.

Men will continue to live and love, solve mysteries and write poetry,
As each mystery is solved, a poet will add another line
To his interpretation of life, leaving the reader
With traces of an emotion, or a feeling,
Which, in time, will also be replaced!
Phil Lindsey 12/28/16

Oh, to sleep the sleep of youth;
Peaceful dreams, and blissful truth
When every morning brings the sun,
Battles fought, and victories won!
Victory sweet, misfortune ****,
Yet those that bear a champion’s heart
Stand upright, tall, despite the end,
And humbly shake opponent's hand
Congratulations on fine play
To meet, compete another day
Hope the foe will others tell,
“He fought with honor, he played well.”

Oh, how the aging fight with sleep;
Nightmares, abject fears run deep
That life on earth is almost done,
Morning might not bring the sun.
Once strong, the warrior now is frail
In the final battle death prevails,
Though none but God has kept the score
The champion longs for one quest more
Long life results in necessity
To replace lost skills with strategy
We long to hear, at final bell,
“He fought with honor, he played well.”
PWL 12/25/16

The cloth I gave it as cover for chill
is lying still.

Christmas eve was its last night.

Not that I knew
when picked it up
and gave it back
to the cold night.

I'm still holding it
heavy and invisible
on my heart
as my eyes repeat the scene
of crows pecking out its eyes
the head rolling on the earth
eyes closed.

I close my eyes
scared life could be so thin a thread
barely holding
and incredibly uncertain.

Like a mighty hurricane
Your memories play about my brain
Bringing forth both happiness and pain

This is what follows
When pulled under by the sorrow
My mind your absence trys to grasp
Breath quickens, to short little rasp
Heart beating at such a rate
It threatens to beat through my breastplate
Butterfly feelings, makes my stomach twirl
Like millions of delicate wings in a swirl
Sleep refuses to invade
All the memories with you I've made

Then the tears start to slide
Slow at first, like they're trying to hide
The shoulders that shake
Till my whole body quakes
Trying to keep the whimpering moans inside
But the wail breaks forth, with the pooling tears coincide

Every feeling for you is amplified
Every moment magnified
To your memory forever chained and enslaved
You left my heart engraved

We all have high hopes
As we step on the wagon
With the band playing
Grab the tail of the dragon

Not really knowing
What we are needing
Where we are going
When we are leaving

Just when we get there, hoping
Not everything's broken

Tripping the light
Of the fandango
What's the big fuss
Why can't we let go

Paying the fair
On what should be free
Instead mostly  care
You about you and me about me

This far into game I was hoping
Everything wasn't broken

Used to we'd all
Come up to the line
The same one we've learned
To step over in time

No matter which side
We all take a beating
With nowhere to hide
In our time of grieving

Either direction, coming or going
Seems these days, everything's broken

he sits on the bar stool beside her
                            too skinny
                            his flat wrinkled forehead
                            lifts brown bushy eyebrows
                            but he does not speak to her

                            she is blonde of course
                            perhaps 23
                            also skinny
                            a flat chested go go dancer
                            from new york city
                            el passo
                            bakersfield
                   ­         miamichicagomontreal
                            denver…­

                            she is with someone else

                             he thought she was his
                             but now

                             as a friend
                             she would like to buy him a shot

                             tired eyes narrow                            
                             he  stares at her as if he
                             has never lost a job
                                                                      ­                                     
                             as if no woman
                             brunette red head or blonde that he has loved
                             whose name he has tattooed onto his arm
                             has ever left him
                             as if the mail man, the priest, and his mom
                             are spitting into his stupid face
                             as if god has kicked him in the nuts
                             as if his dog has bit his hand as if
                    
                             this could never have happened to him

We used to play Cowboys
We used to play Indians
We used to play Pirates
Sailing swift the Caribbean

Now we play worn out Doctors
Accountants counting others millions
Now we play overworked Business Men
Stuck behind cubicles locked inside buildings

We used to climb mountains
Explore backyard jungles
Always at the ready to take
The adventure set before us

Now we set the alarm
Every morning to wake us
Not ready for the adventure
Or where it will take us

We used to fly high like birds
Not knowing our limits
Along the way take what others would say
Knowing they really meant it

Now all we do is drive
Each other insane
Putting up with lie after lie
Day after day

We used to be kids
We used to have fun
Something we seem to have left behind
The day we grew up