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Feb 2015 · 765
Meditate upon the heart
David Lessard Feb 2015
Meditate upon the heart,
feed well the soul and mind;
give meaning to our lives,
the needful, nourished kind.

Reflect upon the heart,
the fiber of its being;
reflect upon the love,
and what the soul is seeing.

Take the Zen of silence,
give rest to troubled thought;
think on seeds of joy,
and what we've all been taught.

Free your mind from obstacles,
think on blessings we receive;
bury sorrow in its sadness,
and take not long to grieve.

Meditate upon the heart,
it mends the tortured soul;
escape the bonds of gravity,
and make heaven as your goal.
Feb 2015 · 980
Grand Canyon Walk.
David Lessard Feb 2015
Walking down the canyon,
I'm hiking back in time;
when waters carved the notches,
in a different, ageless clime.

When dinosaurs were here,
when great fish swam the deep;
when time - it wasn't measured,
and was not a thing to keep.

When lava flowed like honey,
and volcanos shook the earth;
as creatures climbed and crawled,
evolving with each birth.

Now, I see the remnants,
of that distant other time;
when life began with fire,
as we struggled through the slime.

I tread the river's edge,
a mile below the rim;
breathe in the coming night,
as the sun begins to dim.

The canyon's vast and lovely,
too much to put in words;
instead, I listen quietly,
to sounds I never heard.
Jan 2015 · 210
New.
David Lessard Jan 2015
Thank you Lord, for shining on my soul,
I praise your Holy name, you make me whole;
there's nothing that I lack when you're with me,
even if  my friends, they cannot see.

Your on the inside... outside I look the same,
you've forgiven all my faults and shame;
I am like putty in your sculpting hand,
never have I felt, happiness so grand.

You took me from the bottom of my being,
opened up my ears, my eyes, for seeing;
took all the dirt and washed it all away,
so in your new-found favor, I could stay.

You picked me up, when I was all but down,
rescued me from where I nearly drowned;
gave me the strength to make it past my sin,
never gave much thought to where I'd been.

Thank you Lord, for making me a new creation,
filling me with joy and sweet anticipation;
I once was lost, and I almost lost my mind,
but in your Word, it's always Love I find.
Jan 2015 · 789
Mohave National Preserve.
David Lessard Jan 2015
Miles of roads with potholes,
and somber skies and silence;
upset my stern resolve,
and my sense of self-reliance.
Watch out for tortoises,
the sign ahead, did read;
the way was rough and bumpy,
so I had to watch my speed.
I never saw a turtle,
and nothing on the wing;
'tis but a fact I can relate,
I never saw a thing.
Just the wide expanse of desert,
and Joshua trees galore;
I was sort of disappointed,
I had expected more.
Then, from out of nowhere,
came the hurried, speeding train;
and stopped me at the crossing,
'till caboose was on the wane.
Jan 2015 · 243
Winter talk.
David Lessard Jan 2015
Sun's bright, air's chill,
on my evening walk;
wind bites at my neck,
but not enough to balk.

Legs give way to joy,
I break into smiles;
snow on far off peaks,
perhaps, a 100 miles.

Winter's grass is golden,
like Kansas in the Spring;
it dances in the breeze,
making my heart sing.

Serenity surrounds me,
it gently heals the soul;
eliminates the jaded view,
makes my being whole.

Tonight, the seasons glow,
as coyotes howl and croon;
I gather stars with fingers,
and then, I kiss the moon.
Jan 2015 · 477
Hell bound.
David Lessard Jan 2015
On a fast train straight to nowhere,
I got off at Despair City;
chock full of loathing for my soul,
and wallowing in self-pity.

I had a case of heebie-jeebies,
couldn't hold my peace for nothing;
all my calmness was shot to hell,
that my life would not mean something.

Disgust was staring in my face,
the blues were pounding on my door;
I was losing friends, left and right,
life was hopeless; without a core.

I was on a bus to nowhere,
I got off in Sorrow city;
a rundown town of broken spirits,
its condition wasn't pretty.

If there's a hell-hole, this was it,
polluted, dark and decadent;
and the turmoil never ended,
no matter where it was I went.
Jan 2015 · 353
The poet
David Lessard Jan 2015
poetry is fine for thoughtful people,
thinkers, readers and the like;
such emotions are the trigger,
for thunder and the lightning strike.

lost love, depression and elation,
the many moods are spread like ink;
the catharsis we need to go on living,
changing as we rise and sink.

we put in words our discontent,
or the regal high of happiness;
we stumble over bits of phrases,
and sometimes make a mess.

But we're  survivors of the last word,
and we write on with wicked verse;
and if it isn't to our liking,
then we'll howl and probably curse.

Yet in the end we come out stronger,
content with just to have a voice;
all we've to blame is our ourselves,
for we're the ones that made the choice.
Jan 2015 · 988
Temporary.
David Lessard Jan 2015
Rain, falls, hard, fast, heavy,
but short lived and brief;
tears poured out in sorrow,
an outpouring of grief.

Soon, the sun, will shine again,
clouds will lift from earth;
and we'll hear again the laughter,
of someone's joy and mirth.

Shadows, pass, along with gloom,
the sadness melts away;
tomorrow beats with new-found hope,
and life renews each day.

Gone, the veil, that covers us,
swept aside, the pain;
comes once more, the strength,
from adversity, we gain.

The rain, is but, a memory,
the tears are dried and past;
we forge on to the new year,
with the goal our love will last.
Jan 2015 · 218
What my love is like.
David Lessard Jan 2015
Is this what love is like?
asleep with just a smile?
pleasant dreams abound,
and you with me awhile
Is this what love's about?
the sun on fire each dawn?
the peaceful flow of life,
like the river, rolling on?
Like a rainbow tinted sky,
like music always heard;
with kisses on the air,
and there's no spoken word.
Where you comfort me,
with just a simple touch;
when the night is long,
and in your arms I clutch.
This is what my love is like,
as I take the lover's role;
when just a glance from you,
makes my mind and body whole.
Dec 2014 · 513
That time of year.
David Lessard Dec 2014
Is it me or is every one in a hurry?
the people walk too fast, they scurry;
'tis the time of year, I suppose,
but don't you stop, to smell the rose?
Don't you slow, to catch the breeze,
don't you say thank you or if you please?
are we so obsessed that we don't see?
do we forget cordiality?
It's that time again, my friend,
when our best wishes, we should send;
reach out to those in dire need,
give a gift and plant a seed.
The Lord, He loves a cheerful giver,
stay way from ***** and save your liver.
Take your time, don't make haste,
time's a precious thing to waste;
the holidays will soon be gone,
till then bask in December's song.
Dec 2014 · 340
Gone.
David Lessard Dec 2014
I won't be there, when you wake,
in my heart, you've drove a stake;
there is no more that I can take,
and so I'm leaving, for My sake.
In your heart, you have grown cold,
it's to another,  you've been "sold";
you are too brazen and too bold,
alas, there's nothing more to hold.
I'm too **** sick, of all your lying,
well past the point, of simply crying;
long way past, the trials of trying,
now, I feel like... it's all dying.
You treated me like worthless trash,
my dreams and goals you've bashed;
you only wanted jewels and cash,
it's no wonder, I feel lashed.
You've broken every cherished vow,
but to your wishes, I'll not bow;
I'm going to up, and leave you now,
and I'll survive, just don't know how.
David Lessard Dec 2014
Why weren't you satisfied,
with being perfect, therefore pure?
your had your pride and lied,
That, He never could endure.
You set yourself too high,
from that great height, you fell;
became the father of the lie,
the reigning mayor of hell.
Son of the morning, you once shone,
an angel of great rapture;
but you sought the highest throne,
to cherish and to capture.
Now, your power's here, on earth,
to blind the hearts of all;
shirking your angelic birth,
taking others with your fall.
You've corrupted many men,
by your insatiable desire;
but He'll bring you to your end,
in the terrible last fire.
(Taken from Ezekiel 28:1-16)
Nov 2014 · 294
Giving thanks...
David Lessard Nov 2014
Without Your love dear Father,
I could not write these rhymes;
You've been there during troubles,
You've seen me through tough times.
I found You, rather, You found me,
towards the latter part of life,;
You're my refuge and my comforter,
through all my toils and strife.
When no one else stood by me,
You're strength was there to share;
You saw me through each obstacle,
when no one else did care.
You gave me courage, mercy too,
You forgave my greatest sin;
accepted me, the way I am,
looked past where I had been.
All you wanted, was my faith,
to love the Father and the Son;
to put You first, above all else,
and die for You when life is done.
Nov 2014 · 586
No answer.
David Lessard Nov 2014
Was there a note? she asked.
Nothing we could find, I said.
(isn't the gun quite enough
to say that she is dead?).

Was she acting strange? I asked.
Nothing out of the ordinary, she said.
(the body's now inert,
from where the soul has bled).

Suicide comes quietly,
oft times, without a clue;
is the heart that now lies dead,
the one we really knew?

What of her charm and smile?
what of the love and laughter?
why leave a grotesque answer,
to what we call disaster?

You sure there is no note? she asked.
Nothing we could find, I said.
I never even suspected, she claimed,
as more copious tears were shed.
Nov 2014 · 354
Entropy
David Lessard Nov 2014
Everything disintegrates,
what once lived, now dies;
death of things most beautiful,
ends in silent sighs.

Fading into nothingness,
where consciousness is dead;
the union of a hundred years,
is broken like a thread.

Buildings fall apart,
walls come tumbling down;
in the forest, tress expire,
with only nature's sound.

Highways need repair to live,
or they'll develop mars;
out in space the planets whirl,
amongst the dying stars.

Everything disintegrates,
too soon, our love, will die;
but never from neglect my love,
or the fact we did not try.
Nov 2014 · 682
Full moon over Pinetop
David Lessard Nov 2014
Full moon over Pinetop,
over purple mountains crest;
it's daybreak straight ahead,
and I am headed west.

I stop to have my coffee,
a Denny's up ahead;
why did I rise so early,
from the blankets of my bed?

I cannot sleep past light,
that steals into the room;
I need to get past town,
before the traffic's boom.

I'm just a stranger here,
my place lies far away;
I cover many miles,
before the noon of day.

But the full moon over Pinetop,
stays in the memory;
of enchantment in the sky,
just alone for me to see.
Nov 2014 · 273
Nature is the artist.
David Lessard Nov 2014
The clouds float on the blue,
with a painter's touch;
the sun plays peek-a-boo,
and isn't seen too much.

I marvel at the composition,
that fills my heart with joy;
at Nature's whims and fancies,
of which she now employs.

Much better than a Rembrandt,
more polished than Van Gogh;
there is a touch of wonderment,
of which I do not know.

There is a stroke of God,
that frames the lovely scene;
that captures all the magic,
on which my soul does lean.

On which my thoughts do rest,
instills me with its peace;
that moves my heart with pleasure,
with silent, splendid ease.
Oct 2014 · 425
A new walk
David Lessard Oct 2014
A new walk is welcoming,
seeing sights from new perspective;
climbing hills where I have never been,
is my choice and my elective.

The mountain looms before me,
eight thousand feet of pine and rock;
where I get "lost" among the vastness,
with no need of constant talk.

The shadows cool the early sun,
the breeze, refreshment to my brow;
the views are peaceful, tranquil, quiet,
I cannot put in words, just how.

The summit stays in pleasant distance,
I am content to walk its base;
circling in the foothills, far below,
I set my own sweet measured pace.

I will come back another day,
to see new sights of what's around;
today is God's great gift to me,
and in his Nature, I am found.
David Lessard Oct 2014
Tell me not that time does heal,
it's all a fallacy;
it cannot heal the wound,
that You have left for me.

It cannot mend the heart,
that day that you did die;
all I have are questions,
they seem to end in WHY?

All I have are memories,
of a pain that never ends;
that tears the soul inside,
with the sorrow that it sends.

With weary thoughts of gloom,
that do not pass away;
the hurt resounds forever,
I feel it still...today.

Tell me not that time does heal,
you'd be lying if you did;
time, it has not gone away,
it's only now been hid.
Oct 2014 · 610
Empty
David Lessard Oct 2014
I told you
not to
call again,
but you
don't hear
so well,
our relationship
is over,
face it -
we could
never jell.
We could never
share the dreams,
that lovers often do;
we could never
hold the cup
and
drink the lovers brew.
Chalk it up
to fate,
to obstacles
too strong;
we were in a
tango,
where we,
did not
belong.
The fireworks were brief,
one big spark
and one big
frizzle;
it rained on
our parade,
in one long
constant
drizzle.
We could never
grasp the prize,
that lovers often do;
we always came up
empty,

and in a moment's
time,

we suddenly
were through.
Oct 2014 · 238
Options.
David Lessard Oct 2014
I think I can't see evil anymore,
not that it's not there I know
I turn my heart from evidence
of it's ugly show
I look for goodness in the heart
from where the sunshine glows.

The good should always
overweigh the bad
happiness should always
eliminate the sad
memories that contain the good
should be the only ones we ever had.

Smiles should never bow to frowns
no matter how your life is upside down
depression just kills the angry soul
and without, we can be whole
there's more to life than
just one role.

Be content and show your love
be a friend to all that really need
we are our brother's watchman
and for his assistance
we all must heed
if we do not
then all of us will bleed.
Sep 2014 · 303
September walk.
David Lessard Sep 2014
A delightful walk at daybreak,
the air is fresh and cool;
clouds adorn the mountains,
and I am Nature's fool.

A hiker with a walker's stride,
I climb about with pleasure;
and gaze at distant visions,
whose lengths I cannot measure.

The breezes keep me well refreshed,
the quiet, grants me peace;
over old familiar trails,
whose beauty does not cease.

In grand September sunshine,
the month my soul was born;
I watch the dance of bowing grass,
on this fine autumn morn.

I tilt my head and drink the wind,
and I glance around the bend;
laughing with sweet regret,
that soon, the day must end.
Sep 2014 · 637
Schmooze
David Lessard Sep 2014
Engaged in quiet conversation,
I asked how you had been;
you looked truly marvelous,
so nice to see you once again.

How were the kids and hubby?
you showed a picture from your purse;
then said you were divorced,
but things could be much worse.

He gave you pain and alimony,
but not amenability;
on how to raise the children,
on that he'd disagreed.

But you had to leave or wither,
your fruit was dying on the vine;
and when you asked for peace,
he said he didn't have the time.

Is there something I could do I asked,
to smooth out this bad news?
you've already helped she said,
it was nice of you to schmooze.
Sep 2014 · 341
Mountain fever
David Lessard Sep 2014
The hills are calling from my mind,
I have to act or else complain;
that my feet are sluggish ones,
that these days are way too plain.

I wash my face and grab my keys,
my sunglasses and my wide brimmed hat;
take along some water from the frig,
lean down to softly kiss the cat.

So I begin to climb the first of many hills,                                                    the morning's bright with rising sun;
I hear the footfalls of a runner,
he jogs on by, on his early run.

The blood's now racing in my aging veins,
propelling me to carry on;
I view the mountains with delight,
it's now my solitary song.

I reach the crest and I am labored,
with a quiet, sweaty tiredness;
but for my efforts, I'm rewarded,
by an inward, soul-filled happiness.
David Lessard Sep 2014
I wouldn't be alarmed
if you should go;
I've never been afraid
of mice you know.
I wouldn't watch you
take your leave;
I've never been the type
to sit and grieve.
I won't shed tears
now that you've gone;
we were miscast
and never got along.
I'll clean and wash
just as before;
prepare my meals
shut every ******* door.
With closed curtains
I'll cherish privacy;
I'll be a glad recluse,
if by chance, I need to be.
Sep 2014 · 922
Blue and green
David Lessard Sep 2014
I'm dressed in blue and green today,
the colors of the mighty sea;
the color of the earth and sky,
flow in my veins through me.

Bicyclists climb distant hills,
'neath clouds of silver-grey:
bright dots among the landscape,
pedaling their hearts away.

I've never seen the grass this high,
nor so many shrubs in bloom;
Queen Anne's lace, lupine flowers,
dance in a breezy tune.

The monsoon rains have come,
with all it's frightful power;
with hard and driving force,
instead of just a shower.

Half a year's total comes quite fast,
flash flooding in dry creeks;
but nothing escapes water,
as it's own level it soon seeks.

Then the sun regains its throne,
once more, the sunny reign;
dispelling all dark clouds,
over shadowed plain.
Sep 2014 · 656
Song
David Lessard Sep 2014
What is this song today?
that I hear in my head;
that implants memory,
that to my mind does wed.

It's the song of Nature singing,
with eagles flying high;
with clouds a-swirl in heaven
in thunder's mighty cry.

It's the sound of lovers laughing,
from the scent of some sweet vine;
that invigorates the senses,
and stirs the docile mind.

It's the song of tearful joy,
when the music is just right;
the comfort of a peaceful sleep,
that takes us through the night.

That's the song I hear today,
that's the song that never ends;
that's the sound that heaven loves,
the music that God sends.
Sep 2014 · 304
Concrete
David Lessard Sep 2014
Nothing grows in concrete,
it's hard and unforgiving;
it don't allow for growth,
for things that nourish living.

No thing grows in cement,
it stifles out each breath;
where oxygen can't thrive,
it results in only death.

Concrete is for building,
walls we cannot climb;
barriers that separate,
where the sun can't shine.

Cement is for highways,
to speed us all along;
in chariots of metal,
apart from Nature's song.

Nothing grows in concrete,
it has no heart or soul;
the more we do without it,
the more that we grow whole.
Aug 2014 · 995
Road Kill.
David Lessard Aug 2014
The splattered skunk lies
spread eagled on the road,
creating a new white line,
where none existed before;
I fly on by at seventy-five
wrapped in  my race car mode,
the skunk is mangled badly,
his inner being has no core.

Huge black ravens hippity-hop,
as I close the gap between us,
nonchalantly, as if to say,
hey- I was here before you;
I watch them dodge me and
I mutter out a silent cuss,
the mess is hardly recognizable,
a mass of protoplasm I call goo.

The stench of dying musk prevails,
gets you coming and gets you going,
I breathe though my mouth,
but the odor still is prevalent;
there are dead animals on the street,
dried blood not longer flowing,
bigger ones can wreck your auto
or leave one hellacious dent.

We **** them this way or another,
with guns and our pollution,
some that were, are now no more
extinct, or **** close to it;
I wish we could pass a law
or come up with a resolution,
that saves all creatures from our wrath,
before the day we rue it.
Aug 2014 · 562
I have no green thumb.
David Lessard Aug 2014
I have no green thumb,
the flowers see me coming
and laugh,
the roses are smothered
by the aphids climbing
their stalk;
they pay no attention
to my consternation,
they just balk.

I have inadvertently killed,
green plants and their seed;
no matter how I fuss and fume,
for me, they have no need,
they often seem not to care,
when I set out to ****.

I cannot tend a garden,
no matter how I try,
somehow, they see me coming,
as if to watch them die,
regardless of my sigh.

My thumb is never green,
I can't control my nurture;
they wither on the vine,
look as if they've been tortured.

I must choose another hobby,
before I lose my mind;
a thing that don't mind dying,
as I learn not to be unkind.
Aug 2014 · 385
Peace.
David Lessard Aug 2014
Peace fills my heart,
when I think of You;
content with life and love,
Your presence make it so,
and always see me through.

Peace reigns in my mind,
when I sing Your praise;
safe in Your loving arms,
with Your armor on,
as I live out my days.

Peace dwells in my soul,
my thoughts are free from sin;
I block the barbs of harm,
turn aside the lust of eyes,
don't look back at where I've been.

Peace is my great spirit,
from the anchor of this flesh;
avoiding paths of pitfalls,
resisting great temptation,
of things that cannot mesh.

Peace that passes understanding,
it's the only peace worthwhile;
to follow His commandments,
and it's to Him alone I answer,
through all trouble and all trial.
Aug 2014 · 14.3k
Monsoon
David Lessard Aug 2014
The rains beat wildly
against the hard earth;
seeking entrance to the womb
that gave them birth.

Causing flash flooding,
in gullies all around;
minor flooding in
several parts of town

The gusty winds blow
havoc,  with all things light;
enabling some of them,
to rise in unexpected flight.

Tumbling in the rain swept street,
they spin and race in fury;
like startled things they fly,
in one big, storm-filled hurry.

Monsoons hit the Arizona plains,
dust storms, hail and lightning,
thunder booms her mighty voice,
when close, it's rather frightening.
Aug 2014 · 316
Leaf (for Joe Cole)
David Lessard Aug 2014
The leaf is set to fall,
crimson, yellow, brown;
'tis the autumn of the year,
when all the leaves come down.

I love the crunchy sound they make,
when the foot falls ******* them;
the dying leaves surrender,
now broken from its stem.

They dance across the highway,
they swirl and churn with glee;
but do the people notice?
sometimes I think, just me.

In the hills of old Vermont,
the maples are the best;
so bright, the falling leaf,
so separate from the rest.

Like us, they are unique,
with the fashion show they bring;
they call tourists from all states,
and cause one's heart to sing.
Aug 2014 · 1.9k
Fiesta scramble.
David Lessard Aug 2014
I blot the sun out with my thumb,
don't want to burn my eyes;
it's hot enough to fry an egg,
someday, by god, I'll try.

I'll place it on my car's hood,
in the middle of July,
in desert heat outside of town,
I will let it fry.

I'll take a magnifying glass,
in the case that it need be;
and my widest brimmed hat,
so the sun will not scorch me.

I'll take along some pinto beans,
huevos rancheros of a sort;
on corn tortillas with red sauce,
if it's good, I'll take snort.

A Mexican fiesta dish,
with jalapenos too;
then I will burn my mouth,
before my meal is through.
Aug 2014 · 431
Satisfaction.
David Lessard Aug 2014
The bench I rest on,
is not fully in the sun;
but today is rather mild,
and my walk is nearly done.

The quiet is a stranger,
the traffic's almost nil;
no breeze to stir the air,
the pace of life is still.

Bill William's peak is to the north,
a mountain man of years ago;
the hills of Prescott to the south,
bask in the morning's glow.

In 5,000 feet of altitude,
I am parked upon this bench;
reflecting on life's journey,
and its sometime monkey wrench.

I note that I am satisfied with love,
daily walks; music and good books;
my mind contains glad memories,
of life's ever-changing looks.
Aug 2014 · 469
Greeting Morning.
David Lessard Aug 2014
The morning's light is soft and tender,
I sip my coffee - greet the day;
the hummingbirds are sipping theirs,
the world is silent in its play.

The sun is climbing in the heavens,
spreading warmth, erasing dark;
the rains that fell from days ago,
slowly lose their puddled mark.

The summer's touch is halfway gone,
it's such a subtle blend of light;
when days grow short and fold,
the evening, with the night.

The seasons come and quickly go,
in life's great passing scenes;
leaving fading memories,
of what their passing means.

The morning light is soft and tender,
it will not last too long;
I greet it with a lifted cup,
and welcome it's sweet song.
Aug 2014 · 535
Fall from grace.
David Lessard Aug 2014
Fall graciously or do not fall at all,
sin you do not know befriends you;
you do not care to listen to its call,
you are changed, when all is through.

You fell from grace and hurt your soul,
maybe you did not know wrong;
but your conscience knew inside,
that this was not the same old song.

An angel of light she looked to you,
her mystery a sought desire;
she caused your fall and wound,
and burned you with her fire.

We can't know all there is to know,
we're blinded by the golden veil;
we cannot hear our loved ones cry,
when we  begin to fall and fail.

Fall graciously or do not fall at all,
you have no guide, but one;
ignore him at your soul's great cost,
you've a battle yet, that isn't won.
Aug 2014 · 619
Blood
David Lessard Aug 2014
Your blood spills haphazardly down my shirt,
as I hold your still warm body close to mine;
savoring the moments of your last breath,
as our souls and spirits inter-twine.

Your last words to me were garbled,
I could not make them out, I swear to God;
perhaps you cursed me with your dying breath,
but what the hell, that's not so odd.

It was not me that took your life,
it was a shot that came from over there,
the bullet pierced your skull and brain,
and I could only stand and stare.

Too late to save your tortured brow,
too late to stem the awesome bleeding;
but it's a mortician, not a paramedic,
that soon your being will be needing.

I ease you gently to the ground,
on top of leaves that now are falling;
with autumn's colors mixing with your blood,
and my eyes are full of tears- (I'm bawling).

You were to good to die at your young age,
you'd a life that was not yet half done;
but no one can determine their demise,
that fall beneath the dying sun.
death has no timetable

— The End —