Begging your pardon you are on the property of
the owner who is the last one to, utter a kind word,
if he catches you here or one of his hired guards,
they have no reason and will not hesitate, with gloved
hands to take you and toss you back where you belong.

Who am I? You ask, that is quite a task, to describe...

Well, I am a free spirit, who wanders these lands
to save unsuspecting lost souls from roving bands
of criminals and those who are n'er do wells,
whose souls are fueled by the darkness of their acts
and their wanton disregard of any peaceful facts.

Me, oh I am the owner.  Now be about your business
                                         and go on your way, as long
                                         as, you have a place to stay.
                                         If you have enough to eat,
                                         and dry clothes and have a
                                         pillow for your head, in a
                                         shelter out of the wind, the
                                         rain, and other peoples disdain.
Until then please stay I wouldn't have it any other way.
Just mind the fences put in your path, each and every day,
those challenges will try to own you, trap you, crush you,
with out love, black pools of tears at your feet, I am here
                to tell you I am so glad we did meet,
                   now rest I will take my leave,
                  all that is mine, yours to receive.
                          Please, call me friend.

I walk my dog a lot, you see
twice a day, long walks with me
she likes her breaks to stop and ***,
on every other place that bears a mark
could be every thing in any green space,
or park, roadside grass, curb sign post;
thirty times or more a most.

But she is more special than that,
she pulls with the heart of a champion at
the leash or harness, she as one gear forward fast,
her four paws calloused, brace like a storm
is in her face, she is game like, that is the norm,
her shoulders lean in and her chest opens up
she is ten years old and behaves like a 22 pound pup,

That is my dog.
that is my girl.

Most days of the year we have no white stuff on the ground,
Truth be told rain by the bucket will be readily found,
Spring rains, lead to summer showers, autumn falls
both leaves and drops of water, winter moves and the call
is the same, what a shame more rain, with out any snow
we can't go and purchase a sled so in the end
that is, me in tow behind; this man's best friend,
my dog.

MUSH!

Green grass on a gentle *****,
tree in the yard, swing of rope,
leaning back, pumping legs,
sun setting, the day has dregs,
the wind whips by the boy blur,
spinning until, the dark does spur,
running in, the day spent, no waste,
awash in the sun
                            rise to set, all day experience, life to taste,
                                                          ­                                      with a sprinkle of stars.


©DWE072013

Body heavy with fatigue,
Hours and hours of waking
wasting away the time.

Diluted life experiences,
only one sense or another
tested, tried, true?

Is that an anchor that holds
me in this place, and no one
to weigh it as it cannot be

lifted by one

such as I.

How dare I dream
of travels in this
vessel, poorly
maintained and
leaking sea water,
in and my dreams
sink further to
the deeps.

Leaving me,
leaving me,
to host barnacles, rife
with life like a reef,
my hope stolen by
a thief, a face that
hid behind two hands.
give me a second or
a minute to recognize
the crook, but spare
me an hour and I
will know who for certain
robbed me.



IT WAS TIME!


©DWE072013

Unbroken, eternal, a series of points,
joined at the hip, what a trip.
Minute differences, missed by the
human eye, they are there, just the same.

What a shame.

Was it like this before I touched it, before I was almost
touched
by you, travelling on parallels lines, just out of reach.
What a trip, joined at the hip,
a series of points, eternal, unbroken.

What a crying shame.

I keep one eye on you and one eye on my line,
I do not, I can not afford to lose track of either,
For what if the distance between us shrinks and
we
meet
or if they cross and we have a chance and a choice.

To share, space, time, breath, touch, all with out
words or with more words than I have spilled tears,
listen to the other talk in that intimate moment of
the embrace that will never last long enough.

What a dying shame.

Any time we spend, even within in sight,
should be enough to satisfy, our emptiness, right?
Oh these parallel lines keep us together and apart,
please, if we meet, let me feel and share your,
beating
heart.

Mine isn't doing so well,
just now,
it was
broken,
some how, I can't stop for long,
as it might.

STOP

And never start again,
these parallel lines,
are now not grooves,

But the very graves,
where we will lie,
in parallel. Even ever after.


©DWE072013

You know your old when,
you buy a two bedroom with a den,
and it never empties out.

You have dragged emotional baggage,
cleaning your ears to discover cabbage,
busting at the seams, zippers are stuck!

For the first time in your life, you have a plan,
right?, oh no, you got this far on fruit and bran,
okay cereal killer, bust a move and your hip.

Have you smiled yet?

I really want with certainty,
to give you three steps, not wishes, for eternity,
it IS really important some how.

Not that this is the end,
could be drawn out like torture,
what would you give up, in forfeiture?

I've tried to do it on my own, painful right to my bones,
I am not powerless, nor am I a legend in my own mind,
Some One did it for me, and he found me, in a bind.

Have you found Him yet,
hit refresh, until you do,
don't believe in just anything,
even some lies can be true,
that baggage, it may be your strength.

in the heat, not Arizona hot,
I sit or stand and I cling to myself,
not by timidity but humidity,
sky blue and polarized hue,
the asphalt, black absorbing my cool,
until I climb into the shower,
and have the steam take the
impurities away.

in the heat, not Death Valley hot,
I move in the heat still feeling the air
spill the oxygen on to the sidewalk cooker,
grass green, wilting under the molten ball
green radiator liquid bursts from cars,
reflected light blinds first and burns skin
water droplets steam, take all the impurities,
away, lifting me up

and away

©DWE062013

R A K
random acts of kindness,
good part of human(s)character
reaching out on display,
random acts in coffee shops,
random acts in a drive through,
random acts at Christmas,
random acts at the gas pump, lol
okay cheerleaders step to the back
                 we are done with you.

What
is it called,
when a thief,
a perp, a vandal,
takes advantage of
a naive traveler, and in a moment,
          unravel, a charitable plan,
           a belonging, longing to
              be with ITS rightful owner,
                maybe a special chair or bike,
                  that was only meant for one person
                    of challenge for change.

Strange?
Anyone find it strange,
that someone would steal and burn another's belongings (Saskatchewan)
slash some young men's vehicle tires and etch an autograph their van (Winnipeg)
"Have a good trip home boys"
I won't list the remainder, other to say I have done my research and there
isn't a province or state or territory, where this is not in the news...

Yes some others step up from time to time and replace all the goods,
but you can't replace the scar on the memory, gestures do help with healing ( I hope )
but you can't replace the a hard drive beyond use, with third degrees burns,
beyond nerve deep.

Yes others show their heart and make it right, Thank you,
I wish, I pray against the spirit of dismay from
these other random acts of spite, random acts of cowardice, random acts of violence,
random acts of greed, one or more Disgusting Excrement of Evil Doers , (DEED)
like stealing a purse from a senior citizen who survived the war,
to die in a fall when pushed hard by a snatcher of purses and lives.

Lip service by local authorities, "be aware of your surroundings", too true
Crimes of opportunity, and anonymously, an idiot gains immunity,
but what to do:
being indignant does not help but keep reading,
maybe just(ice) maybe send them all North, building survival cairns
and airfields across the tundra and there they
might discover the spirit of wonder
of human kind(ness), through random acts;
(like horseflies, mosquitoes, wolves, polar bears, Cariboo in mating season,
swamps that suddenly appear and then they disappear, there are more, but what a bore)
they will have memories of Aura Borealis
                                           with out malice.
they may see the herds and appreciate,
                      wildlife in its natural state.
they may or may not make it home, either way
      they will be able to write a poem.
Or write a better rant about thorns from Devil's Club
and pus.  Or now know the hardship they did cause
                                                           ­      stop to pause, and
do a random act of kindness to make up for another's loss.

From the heart.


©DWE062013

10,000 reasons,
ten thousand years,
A cloud of witnesses,
over head

They are the ones who praise and roar
                                             raise their voices; for you.


Many years before though
one fallen,
lost before the fight was fought
                 thought it right to recruit with doubt.

These are the unseen, not good, and the Unseen not at all bad,
both are armies, only One leader leads;
the other
cajoles, then,
takes his toll, many
a jaw dropping,
eternal soul.

Then you look around you, the landscape,
city, country, mountain, lake open ocean
and outer space, awe and wonder on your face.

Then you look around you, after you text,
talk, and tap your phone, 'buds in your
ears, what you experience replaces your
fears.

Of being alone.

When the dark (one)
closes in,
and pours over you your sin,
and it has been so long you
only want to hide, but you are part of
the Seen world, where is the light switch,
anyway...
the noisy noise,
breaks your poise,
separate

yourself and make time for ...  prayer
"Open my eyes, so I can see"


©DWE062013

Peace may not find you and your
Resolve will crumble in your hands, seen by
Observers who will shake their heads while
Fear will come in with each breath and
Easy stuff becomes hard because of
Selfish attributes that have your name on them, playing
Silly word games when work needs to be done where
Idiots need not apply and
Objections will fall on deaf ears
Neophytes BEWARE and
Aware that
Losses are not counted in the win column.

Misunderstanding purposely
Is a poor choice, unwise
Seeing your education
Combined with your
Obvious position of leadership
Neglecting the human cost while
Dutifully embracing rules
Undercutting human values
Cynically pointing one ring- finger in any direction to
Tyranny.


©DWE062013

Looking, but do I see what you go through to breathe,
The things you do while wearing masks, makes me seethe,
NOT at you but the world, your situation, what lies beneath,
Your hands shake involuntarily,
Your approach each day warily,
Did you use up your spoons, before the end of yesterday,
How will you get out of bed to see the weather this day,
I know you slept, did
each nightmare creep up on you, when you were off guard,
I am there,
I care,
In the dark,
I did stare,
none, the wiser,
you have your cocktail, of pills, of drugs, and they help you
if you have an average day,
This is for you ,
on the days you are through,
no spoons, left
hours yet before your
head comes to rest, then
nightmares consume,
your time at rest,
I pray, and
I pray, and
I pray,
the vultures will be swept away,
by the jet stream and
leave you,
while I stay by your side,
because I want to, it is
right so to do,
forever.  This is for you,
I see so many who do not understand,
their lips move,
as they mouth the words,
or they type, their intent is
clearly in the wrong.
THIS IS NOT EASY.
You are brilliant,
you create,
I ... am in awe
of your therapy,
your art, your beauty.
This is for you,
in respect, in love,
I express, and
from above,
He sings over you.

He can say it,
he can flaunt it,
he can live it,
he can walk it,
while talking it.

If his heart is changed, it will not beat different,
If he has become less arrogant and more diffident,
Time will tell.

I will not judge the change,
I will not think it strange,
if he found Jesus.

The other option is Hell.
Let that rest heavy on his brow,
how is his head hanging, can he
feel the heat of remorse?

Her friends are heroes in my books,
you had the courage it took.
To face him on her behalf,
She was there with you in court,
I think she helped you to do,
no I am wrong,
you were all strong,
and you saw an innocent perish,
that screamed of unfairness and death,
you all stood up for her,
it may not have seemed enough,
as she did die, did part of you go with her?
we cannot measure how much you
all cried, when doing and trying was not enough.

The best place for her would be with you, sigh,
some say she will always be watching over too.

I believe in eternal life for innocents like her.

In from the cold
Go Home I was told,
done with a vocal cool,
tone, I walked away
               the total fool.

The command
was not from
                       up above,
not in peace with
an olive branch and dove.

There was voice...
in the frosty air
  words hung dispassionate
                               there,
right in front of my face.

I walked swiftly, pull my collar
up against the chill at my back.

Opening the door
I took to the stairs,
in spirited haste,
                   bounding up,
Eager...
my fierce intentions
were on my face,
I was keen to leave the
mean spirited world behind ME.

Hungry for you,
every room I looked in,
was empty, but
there were signs,
every where  that
kept me searching for YOU.

You had been here,
the fiery trail was
plain to see, still
warm
to the touch. Moving ME.

Then it... went lukewarm
and then was gone
with it too my
                        ... *ardent love

The grey and tan house on the busy highway,
where traffic flowed like the river it was named after,
Halfway from nowhere,
Halfway to somewhere,
"leave your stinking thinking at the door."

The two multi-coloured coats in a warm embrace,
shoulders' held the others face,
long hair mopped up the tears,
they did not pat each other on the back.

But rub the shoulders, the arms and back,
as if a genie would appear so
they could wish it all away,
and start with a new day.

But that did not happen.

Sadly each took a slow step back,
hands dropped through a painful wave,
' Good-bye'
now turning to walk,
nodding as they both spoke,
not waiting for the answer to the
echoed
"stay in touch"

I hope they do,
it will matter much.

I'd turn myself inside out if it would make me happier,
but that might hurt.
I'd walk 800 kilometres if I thought it would bring me peace,
but it would only bring me blisters.
I'd write words on a keyboard,
for you only to keep and hoard,
not because they maybe pretty,
please find me not that petty,
I just wanted to say the things,
to make you smile like joy brings,
You see we really have not met yet
And when we do, and we will, I'll bet,
I won't take back what I gave,
We'll have tea and then wave,

Goodbye,  ; - }
each of us stronger,
I could go on longer,
if you did not guess,
I have to,
own what I don't possess.

I don't take risks, I can't
I only have enough, for today
I know what losing costs,
Coins rolling away, no moss
a gathering, this or any way.

I walk at the fringe and look in
I see in the reflection, of the mirror,
my weakness, my resolve has stress-
fractures, my life a poorly played chess
match, if only, my head were clearer.

I need fresh air, let me out, of this box
so much refuse to trip on with shoes,
feet not mine that I hide with black socks,
the only hazard is me, you best take stock
and remember don't regret what you choose.

Pass me a glass
with a splash
of red, dry plum
fruit with peppered
notes, my nose so
tainted, I would
not be a taster
but a waster of
delights, ...
well maybe not,
of all delights.

If I tore the pages out of every book on writing
I have ever bought threw them in the air they
would bury me and the
hill would loom as large as my failure.

If I tore all the empty pages from all the empty journals,
I have not soiled with, ink or spoiled their purity,
and threw them in the air they would bury me and
the mountain would have streams of tears at my act of neglect.

If I counted all the hours, by dumping sand from
ten thousand thousand hourglasses, when
I would have done better writing
instead, of doing what ever it was I was doing to disappear,
from my grind in the wrong gear, the pile would be a mountain
chain, to the sun, and I would climb and like Icarus fall, into the ocean
after all with that much sand, I would be at a beach, right?

What do you give to
get what you get? Sweat?
Or are those tears, falling with
gravity at the depravity,
that dragged you down to
where it was, waiting,
laying innocently and
you just stumbled upon
it?  Next thing you know
you are not a social
darling, but rejected
like a starling, by the
larger scavengers and
now you need therapy
and social mediation,
Stand up, say your name,
admit your addiction,
isn't anything private
anymore,...
but alas I ramble,
I don't mean to
sound off, some days
I am just off...aways.
Don't text me I don't
own a
cell phone
or the night,
don't copy and
paste, instead roll
a pencil or pen, in
your hands, take
paper and patience,
please!? I know you
can get through this,
I know you can get
down to do this,
Free the verse!
Free the verse!
Free...you
(slumping now
blood sugar
dropping fast,
and how...)
You use your words
to paint images
in black and white,              t o g e t h e r,
letters colour others'
imagination, don't
give up or give in,
do what you were
called to do, anything,
any thing else is a sin,
then the darkness, we all
share IT will cry;
"I win,
I win,
I..."
stop it in those track
marks made, your
porcelain skin and
heart of gold, eyes
of jade, I will never
be closer to you
then when you write,
what you write,
c'mon start, if you
don't we then are          a  p  a  r  t
only to keep hoping,
looking to see,
that light,
keep looking
promise...?
I will too.
until then I am here.








l

What does he see, the man who sits at the bus stop daily.
His dark hair looks washed but people go by warily,
He wears the same tan coat, will he when it is sunny,
                                                          ­                                 He stares straight ahead.
His skin is so pale, like he has seen some place dark,
I don't see him come or go, he stays there parked,
on that bench with that vacant stare, is he stark

raving mad, alone he
sits still like a stone
who has sank to
rock bottom,
waiting, seeking
hoping, needing
a breath,
of air,
to make it
through the
day or the
surface...

Is it the number of toys you own and use,
gathering mud, blood, or dirt,
to figure out your worth.

Is it the number of people you have met,
share a smile to an intimate encounter,
all relationships are life's echo sounder.

Is it the number of days and the misspent ways
that the grains of sand
fell from your hand.

Is it the number of experiences, of all that you have absorbed,
from head to toe, inside and out with every sense,
in those moments of past, present and future tense.

Is it the collection, of the cells that make you who,
and the places, moments you share
with God, you who, He spared.

If life is a passing fancy and you just want to reach, maybe touch and be moved,
be a leaf, there maybe, however, a fall in your future,
If life is something you can not let go of, you need hold on tightly, get *****, go deep,
be a root bundle, water, rocks and mostly darkness, is what you see,
If life is to be experienced, sometimes vulnerable, in any weather, give back more than you take,
be a tree, the whole tree, seeds, leaves, branches, bark, roots and inside you are a sap,
but the world will be a better place for it and you will see the forest
as a tree.

I want to go to places,
where water falls, spilling down
hidden rock faces
while pools of water fill the air
with a heavy mist to lift my cares
high out of reach.

Dip my toes into a clear pond,
submerge  hold my breath beyond,
...
not to test me or to test God,
just stay as long, how odd?
to say so long to, my cares.

Now I know they will find me
returning to easily remind me,
they know where I dreamsleep
they are only cares, they
brought their cousins nightmares.

And all I wanted was a break,
a token of a moment of peace,
not be broken into pieces.

waiting here,
baiting my breath
the sweet taste of wine
loosens my lips
waiting for what'
waiting here
sating my mood
with any food
to taste
and lay
waste to the
staleness
I have become.

Moments
prized and
realized gain
arrived pain
now fully felt,
through skin, like
fabric padded,
fatted not draped
like a discarded
memory or
muscle miscue
as I miss the
mark once and
again.

dullshooter, not sharp
propelled blindly
out my door, into
the day
light mood darkened;
not by shadow,
not by sightless,
not by faith,
for what little
I have I must
share.

Of all these things
buried in me,
my own grave.
Riches?
The pit is full.

Atmosphere, the fish bowl, circling here
At most fear, someone watching, from near
by,
Atmosphere, is it failing bit by bit?
At most fear, aloneness, unable to admit,
they are?

A mouse dear, it was a mouse I fear
In this a house of cheer and merriment,
go back my friend, to your hole in the wall
*it is a trap!

You can sit and watch grass grow,
Drop seeds and reap what you sow,
Get dirt on your hands, you know?

Wait and see what mystery winged things
                                                             bring,
Observe their dance, how they see to clean
                                                           ­  wings,
Absorb the flight and the strut and the peck and
                                                      the song it sings.

You can walk the dog a good long ways,
Run with ear buds for the endurance phase,
Remember either way get out and go play.

Listen carefully, take care of you, only you know how,
No one else really can, not even your lover or friend, wow,
Free yourself, find peace, seek as much blue and green, Allow:

A Time for Love;
To Express Joy;
A Life in Peace;
Doctoring your Patience;
Delivery of all with Kindness;
Self-discover Goodness;
Unearth Faithfulness,
In the realm of Gentleness;
Wear a Patch for Self-Control;

but -

Start with time to watch birds

The slow serpentine hop became circles
rapidly by two rabbits chasing, dressed in
their light brown summer fur camisoles,
territory owned was defended by a win,
give up ground was to give up food and
the right to eat there to your fill, on demand.

Shadows played tricks
thorny hedgerow caused
****** in the skin, drawing
blood, as the chase
went outside a steel
wire fence, into where the
warren was, and
coyotes crouched
ready in wait too.

Some days nobody wins,
over some green greed.

He walked in like he owned the place,
he knew no one, not by name or face,
shattered the night and the peace,
left it all behind for the police.

He is darker than the night,
what is wrong, he takes as his right,
unnatural, he moved without light,
death his calling card, to spite,

the promise of the morning sun.

your heart, I wish I could see it laid out before me,
like when I watch a cellist play their part beautifully,
wood and sinew, bow and flesh,
                                         enmesh,
in a dance, where notes fall like a wash of tears,
which run down, laughing so hard at the sadness,
     as notes ascend and descend.
          the chest rises and falls,
              and all I want to see, in truth, is your heart,
                 the cello braced for news good or bad that
                    you are about to share, but not your heart,
                      please don't play me for a fool, I'm not an
                        instrument too, that you have found boxy,
                          and poorly made with materials that age fades,
                            what will you do, when I can no longer hold
my tune?
your heart, I need to see the path you are going to walk,
so we can go side by side, no secrets, our touch is real, with
no distance, so we can in whispered voices, talk, not like the
bow that makes those strings sing, or the pressure of those
fingers to get the notes just so, no...

Like the notes on the aged sheet music, the dark spots and lines
now fade, here and there but remember, the music we once moved
to, now moves us in our memories, treasured and measured beats,
your heart has shaped them, whole notes have become half notes and changed my life...
                                                        n­ow reveal to me will we ever share a destiny?

If you are not a dad, you have a father and have a Father,
But for those who do not have a father, you have a Father,
A Father whose Spirit fills your lungs like air.
Breathe in and hold Him so close.  Exhale and breathe in, again.
So comfort will fill you from the inside out.
He has a Son, you have a brother, do you know Him,
or of Him?
He has washed
you from the
outside in,
taken it all
away.  

We camped, I remember camping,
mom and dad would sit in the front
seat sharing a drink in a can,
"dusty gravel roads can bring out
a thirst in a man."  Sunglasses hid
their eyes from the glaring summer sun,
station wagon packed in the back,
tent trailer with a hard top towed behind,
windows rolled down to condition the air
temperature and the rush went through
our crew cut hair, Goldie a Sheltie dog,
hung out the window until the wind got
to fast to see blurred images going by
like memories, no clean lines to define,
what was my childhood.

Thanks dad and mom for camping.

I like A's the pointed head and wide stance, a strong, a brave one,
I like E's the pleasing creeping greasy vowel.

I like I's ones that stare, one's that share, one's that care, the way I see it.

I like O's that round out the sound of my voice,
I like U's that take the attention off of me, under scrutiny,

I like Y's you may ask why, then you have answered Y as well.

I like the sounds
of poetry

The curve of the horizon gently pulled eyes along it,
the dim sunlight and shadows changed slowly each minute,
the flock of many black birds twisted and turned, mute,
in the distance.

Trees and shrubs waved and the wind whipped up
the excitement at the instant that the clouds stepped
aside, the light blue sky with golden streams, wept,
you were home.

walking through the trees to find a forest,
moist moss padded paths,
raised roots hardly hidden
to tempt you to go off the trail,
into the friendly ferns,
where rabbits race away, while
you find the cagey coyotes, then
stooping under a fallen giant slippery log,
to glimpse the fleet foxes, flashing tails,
to find the lone wolf's footprints
following you
stalking you
no sight
no sound
invisible... for you hope,
not to see the teeth,
and especially not the eyes.

emotional  eating
to fill the w h o l e
of unfed expectations

that eat away at
the soul, so fully
that it takes anger

to get back on track
hope that is not a train
comin' my way

complacency, or lack of will,
"take a pill"
to get you to the same place

destined for failure
don't let life railroad ya'
work IT out, just a little
each day
age doesn't count
you matter... most.

one dog spies another dog and begins to
fuss and growl while pulling,
               himself taller, with the leash now as straight
              as a stick. Two other small dogs hardly
notice him or each other as both make eye contact
with their owners; as one walks north and the other
                                                           ­               south.

one dog meets another dog on the sidewalk,
while owners
talk
                  dogs circle the wagons on
                   leashes on an ever decreasing circle, the tangle of
words
                   is emphasized in the tangle of leashes.

They part ways, these aren't strays, next encounter is more
civil,
            one owner drops the leash of his loved pet and the cars
             **** by oblivious to the animal detente which has just been
                initiated, as they stand side by side and nose to the others' tail,
a peaceful
                    quiet greeting, as equals.  Accepted into the pack.

I watched as I was (s)trolling, wondering what my dog would make of this
trio of dog friends she hasn't even met yet... she would be made to sit
from a safe distance and then the wilful wire fox terrier of mine
would lunge
like she
was in the
Canadian tundra
at an annual
sledge pulling
contest...
with me the only
weight
holding her back!  

So if we greeted one another like dogs,
.
.
.
no not that way...
what were you thinking?
Greet one another accepting the
the worst, to better appreciate the better,
and then work toward making the
encounter, the relationship, the future, the best!

When your frenemies speak their minds
Trust the wrong people, you go blind,
Do not listen to what word they say
Turn them away at the doorway.

When the dark gathers closely in,
Dark voices condemn, you, your sin,  
Do not stop, take the time to pray
Turn them away at the doorway.

An innocent holds out their hand,
It's a call, that's all, no demand,
See that chaos, embrace it go play,
Run now with them through the doorway.

Those distractions abound, constant,
Get to your own place of balance
Let your stare, your silence have it's say
Turn them away at the doorway

dead soldiers from the night before
stared up from their hiding spot still
in their brown uniforms
the snap of the sheath was lost in the
snap crackle and pop of the dying embers
the blade of the axe tested on a thumbnail
cut a satisfying line to proof the sharpness
you turned with precision and gravel crunched
beneath your feet, eyes searching for the
driest piece to feel the point of the heavy head
your whistling echoed from your lips as
trees dance to your tune in the not so gentle breeze

fleshy hands and oak handle embracing
log victim placed on the sacrificial stump
lined up your trial mark 'practice makes perfect'
the swift swinging arm motion followed by
sound from a sudden swing forced a new echo
through the trees landing with a solid thump
and silence
with more whistling eerily into the silence between
the splitting of each one after another, the red painted
axe head was gleaming with each chop while ready
to work again and again and...

Clenching teeth but giving in involuntarily,
Bending over touching earth rather warily,
Is adverb use in poetry supposed to be sparingly?

Clouded visage, clouded sky, clouded meaning,
Don't look for nuggets or rainbows for gleaning,
I am in pain, is that not plain to read, I am leaning

The fire in the belly is not a positive sign, not by design,
Put SOS up the flag pole in a strong breeze, three ensigns,
Save Our Sanity, I will walk on the wild side, slalom the road signs,

Till the bright lights of headlights silhouette the way...and
I stand real still on ... a single dot dot dot
                                                       dash dash dash
                                                              dot dot don't.

Try to move faster than your feet can carry,
Do come along dear do not tarry, but be wary,
Push yourself harder faster, stop and I'll bury,
you.

Pace of life, balance all or balance none,
Do come along dear do not fall, no prize to be won,
Let me push you till you drop, sleep is no fun,
with out peace...

And quiet your squealing, verbal chaos marks your despair,
Do come along dear, peeling your clothes off to catch a gasp of air,
Just go to the edge and let gravity carry you, with out care,
a rush, the fall.

The worst part is landing, lonely and alone.
Do come along dear you still have me
and my black heart,
I won't catch you as you fall, get running,
cause I play chase real well,
can't you tell?

We spent days together when we cried,
We spent months together when we laughed,
In my absence, laugh until you cry.

We spent years together struggling to make it work,
We spent decades together raising children,
In my absence, laugh until you cry, and can't stop laughing.

We spent every second learning to love one another,
We spent every hour as best as we could, no doubt,
In my absence, laugh or cry, remember me, I may not open
Heaven's gate for you, but I will save you the window seat,
like always.

Where Everyone Steps, To Beyond Ordained Reality, Often Total Kookiness

A chosen career, trained to survive, with out any fear to be seen,
They watched when he left for the Air Force or Army or Navy, or US Marine,
Overseas, out of reach, out of touch, but she stretched out and reached,
There was snail mail and e-mail and wow, there is Skype,
Overseas, he is, his parents and hometown reached out and stretched,
They tied yellow ribbons and remembered him and all brothers who served,
Banners on gym walls.
Remembered in prayers.
Extended family gave care,
To his kids and spouse.
Then...
Like many who served before and fell, as he served and
did not get up from
where he fell, sacrificed for others,
answered his call, brushed the desert sand off and,
he went Home.

His name is etched in black, dates and medals noted below,
Lawns manicured, green with white markers row upon row,
She still reaches out and puts flowers by the white marble stone,
Lying down, she stretches out on his grave, even when she is not alone,
The cold comfort so misunderstood, she is as close as she can be till
they both unite in Eternity.   She stands and his mother kneels until
the sun has set.

Her family, his family, catches and wipes away small and large tears,
They all live in freedom, when he left, he took some fears...away.

Some times are hard
Some times are chaotic
Some times are missed
Times are summed up
by events and people
measured by some ticktocks.

Sometimes hello leads
to tearful goodbyes
Sometimes hello is never
answered but by an echo
This is neither goodbye or
hello, really it is a wash.

Tears streaming,
sink full of soapy hot water,
Day dreaming,
...
Facebook, email, news, takes
me away from what I oughta
decide to do.

This not a goodbye to poetry,
this a hello to all things,
especially only writings.

So to stay true to me,
I will be writing free,
followed by edit-ting,
stories in my veins,
will be pumped from my
heart, life is easily wasted,
the bottle of red tasted,
spirit of distraction,
let me go.

You don't need me to change
your world, take those reins
but be aware writers, strange
as it seems, are targets of any
and all who are within range
to silence many.

This will always be a place
where words fill my small
space in the cloud, or word
spoken out loud.

I will write.
I will share.
I will wrestle on the spur of the
moment or transfer
my words from paper that cuts
till I bleed black,
sometimes
sometimes I read
sometimes I write
sometimes I find
the self.

White, pale watchful friend of those who abstain normalcy,
Often ridiculed and blamed for uncontrolled lunacy,
Overshadowed is the light you give, by the blame brutally,
cast your way.

Round, tonight but the rest of the time your shape shift changes,
And people treat you with hardly a care, like distant strangers,
When there is no moon at all, they limit their verbal exchanges,
to the weather.

You are so full of yourself tonight and your ghostly white countenance,
The sirens are busy, noisy travels north and south moving to accidents,
People doing strange and dangerous acts, driving badly is evident,
with a darkening night sky.

Some nights you just drive me crazy.

When the rain falls so lightly that it is a mist,
Try as you might you, get drenched, not missed,
Umbrella fully open, no breeze, yet the rain goes sideways,
Shoulders hunched and glasses hold the spots, before your eyes,
Vehicles pass and the full punch of their wind, takes yours from your lungs,
And you think to your self, "well at least I don't have to shovel wet heavy snow!"

All the pattern pieces were made with individual care,
Woven together, the journey through life women share,
But there remained some loose ends, unused threads.

They were the ones that did not get used,
Not part of the pattern, not fused, they refused,
To be set aside, they bided their time, knowing...

Just as the women had been brought together over a dire need,
With prayer, they assembled the quilt pieces knitted without greed,
No gossip filled the air, a sense of urgency to complete the work.

Each piece was attached to another, using the left-over threads,
The many became one community, tied together with the short threads,
The rejects now held the whole quilt together, instead,
Of being discarded.

It takes all in a community, to make one quilt, one banner, one voice,
One future, from patterned pieces to a hand full of loose threads.

Silent city night,
Shattered by an elbow,
On a car key fob.