the moon is beaming in the dark
with tiny stars as little sparks
it shines with pride, in graceful hues
when night time falls and starts anew

but the moon is kind,
it does not boast
it shines so brightly
to guide, at most

and the moon loves greatly,
it loves the stars
because it lets them shine too
so they are seen from afar

Words flowing from the pen
Ink creates a story
Sometimes Vivid vision
Deep from within

The moment your eyes past
The words of a fellow poet
You were stung
Never to recover

Love at first sight is not real
Yet here it happened
Given to search each day
Deciding to read what is laid

Your eyes must see
That you cannot express
No reason to hurt
Passions too strong to resist

Pulling away from desires
Brushing them from your mind
Turbulence cannot be avoided
Commitment to another

Reality expressed so easily
Feelings never available before
Does this answer the question
Where do they fit in your heart

I once too was a victim,
A victim of desire..
Luring me in slowly, drowning, in its unquenchable fire..
Thirsty
I needed escape
I realized soon, it was a life, I needed replaced
It was freedom that I needed to taste
To never be fazed
To be in control
To bring back everything that desire had constantly stole
The wrong path that I took, now I wander the netherworld in search of my home
In time I will know
The darkness will be caved by the light at the end of the road
Love will shine, and fear will not prevail anymore
As of now we keep traveling fro
You are never alone, and where ever you roam
Soon we'll all be together, soon we'll cross paths,
Happily we'll live and we'll dine
To never remember the past...

Desire. It's the storm cloud that creeps
Across the skull and blocks the light of common sense.
It's the janitor with a hidden agenda
That doesn't allow any light bulb to come on.
A Svengali swinging a pendulum left to right,
Until the mind is at its complete beck and call.

Desire. It reaps millions of butterflies;
Grown in the stomach. Wanting to be free.
It's the cause of the tension in your body.
The tsunami in your eyes. The quaking of the hands.
Most importantly, it's the internal burning sensation
That spreads to become a hole in the heart.

Desire. It's the delicate crumbling of anxiety
That melts with the comforting warmth of relief.
The fire of temptation; burning so sweet
As sweat collects upon victims unknown.
The aching in the muscles, the knocking in the chest
Of a heart whose cavity has been patched up.

Desire. It's the patch that frays over time
And the hole is re-opened. Tears re-flood.
The trembling vocal chords and the cracking voice
That fall like foundations under searing heat.
The eventual destruction and its finality
That hit you with a dull metallic taste in the mouth.

Finally knowing that no matter how bad you want it,
You will never own it unless under its own terms.
Advice? Read the fine print.

The Dream Stream

I transfer the rods energy from slack to a hell bent back cast stroke,
The line straightens, teeth clenched…..I push the casting arc forward.
My delivery is spot on, dead drift fly traveling the same pace as the current,
The trout’s jumping rise brings on a grin and the caddis hatch is on.

I look up stream and catch a glimmer of another heavy hatch of Caddis,
Grandpa’s eyes search for mine and finding them he flashes a toothy smile.
“Having Fun?"He shouts….I nod my head emphatically and give him a thumbs up.
And we keep it going until darkness prevails and the hatch finds sanctuary.

We walk and talk all the way home and I can’t remember a better time.
And now I have the honor of teaching my own son this gift.
Generation after generation it’s our duty to pass down our experience & know-how to the next.
And just before I close my eyes tonight, I recall this quote…

“It is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us fathers and sons”. F. Schiller
- K.E. Carman  2016