kk 8h
I clung on to the feeling
You and I were molded the same way
By our foundations and roots
Nestled deep in the same place of belonging
Quiet and withdrawn, in the shadows
We grew slow, dipping our leaves into a shy beam of sun
But only I dared to branch out
Come out of the shadows and search for the light
To stand in the glory and to expand.
We’re both standing in the sun now.
We used to play cards on Tuesday nights in the small office of a used car lot.
I would look at the old beaters as they came in.
Wonder what their stories were.
Who drove them.
Where they had travelled and what they had seen.
“All rust and dust” my friend used to say.
As they age their value goes down.
Which is what some folks think about people.
But really, the opposite is true.
My friend would ask
why I played cards
with those old geezers.
He didn’t get it.
Many people don’t.
I just told him I always win.
It was true.
Not in terms of money.
But in everything else I got from those guys.
One old guy used to cheat like a bastard.
I let him get away with it.
I hope when I get old
somebody cuts me some slack.
I once laid in my bed content
With mama’s prayers tucked in
Listening to trains far off across
The river trestles on rails stretched
To places I could only dream of.

Beginner’s luck, the magic strong.
Reality and dreams synonymous.
Early the seeds of wanderlust

Out of large cardboard appliance
Boxes and old trunks in the attic
Talents were forged in games
With friends in woods and streets.
Old Mr. Robling’s eyes looked
Beyond . . .
Child’s play would end someday.

That day eventually came in linear
Time but much longer to this
Wandering mind
That thought beyond the grade
School desk when my adolescent
Peer’s noses were buried deep.

Wander and travel lust left this boy
Rootless and restless when the time
Came to stop chasing the mirages of
Greener pastures.

Then he looked up and saw
His little one’s grown up
With a somewhat similar
Bittersweet taste of chasing the
Elusive Islands of Emerald Green
Seen as lush vivid images
On their built-in larger-than-life
Neural G.P.S. screens
Programmed to seduce the
Wanderer into the delusion that
They can take extended or even
Permanent excursions far from
The Great Gray Banal Sea.

Not very long ago this ageless
Boy was forced into settling for
Stark reality. But he is slowly
Growing a bit more comfortable
In his own skin.

The grass is still a bit green
But parts are a bit dry,
Patchy and crabgrass ridden.

At least it fashionably matches his
Soul . . . poetic justice for trading
Most of your life for the elusive

I still cling tight to my childhood  
In my own non-linear time of
Eighty years ago.

A far younger but worn-out and
Tired mind spirit and body defines
Age as value used to be measured
By quality not by quantity

And as those running the track
And roaming free over thousands
Of acres of wide-open plains
Opposed to those put out to pasture
Or waiting in line


                  --Daniel Irwin Tucker
The long & winding road in linear & non-linear time.
in the waning days of my sojourn
when the Sun will set quicker than I remember
when I'll wish I'd taken advantage of a pain free body
and walked a bit longer in those fields of gold
searched my dreams for meaning
taken a few extra moments to absorb
the laughter of my children when they were mere toddlers
the mindset falls into one of waiting
as we drift off into the natural state of irrelevancy
like the favorite stuffed bear that is still loved
but has served its purpose
watching the world spin by upon a shelf
next to a copy of Tom Sawyer
I'd give all my remaining days
to re-live one of those fading memories
I'm finally back to writing new material after sifting through and revising some older pieces. Time to get back in the flow
You used to feel untouched by the winds of time
They blew, and when they blew -they blew over everyone around you
Toppling those who shielded you from the wild winds
Those who reduced them to gentle gusts
But alas, you have grown
And are too big to fit behind the wall
You must brave the winds with the rest of us now.
Aa Harvey May 16

As she walked through my life, she simply kissed me goodbye.
She was only with me for a moment; a moment in time.
But then she was gone from me and all I could do is cry.
I guess we never get the chance, to love for life.

As the years all rushed passed me and experiences made me grow;
I thought about her all my life and where she is, I just don’t know.
But each night I send a firework, flying high into the sky.
Maybe one day she will see my signal flare and she will send me a sign.

As my eyes begin to fade and all my hair has now turned grey;
I guess she just isn’t coming back to me; I guess alone I have to stay.
I sure did have a good life and I married my beautiful wife;
But she has passed away, three years now
And I still can’t get her off my mind.

I wish I could have been with her, for the rest of my life,
But some things they just ain’t meant to be;
I never said it would all turn out alright.
I lost you in my youth and now I’ve lost my second love too.
I know I should be grateful, but all my thoughts return to you.

So many years without you near, I would just like to understand.
I know you had to find yourself, but did you ever find your man?
Or was I the one you think about, the one you could come back too?
I hope you think of me from time to time;
I hope to see you soon.

You had to leave to find yourself;
Well, did you find your way?
Have you discovered what you needed to find?
I can only remember the day you walked away.
Have you completely lost yourself in love and did you raise a family?
Our time stopped, the day I watched you slowly walking out on me.

I guess you carry your own memories;
I wish they had been mine,
But fate decided we would part
And follow our own paths.  
Have your discovered, how to just, leave it all behind?
I never did;
I never did stop loving you,
But now I know…
You’re never coming back.

(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Brent Kincaid May 11
I’m waddling around with wattles.
Nothing in a bottle will change that.
Not buying a better looking hat
Or a brighter, tighter shirt.
My childhood left in the dirt,
I’m an old man! I do what I can
To not look like a wino under a bridge;
A smidge of aftershave so I don’t stink
And people don’t think I’m decaying.

What I’m saying is, I’m getting old.
Graying smudges among the gold.
This is me. This is what I see daily
When I glance gaily into my mirror
Expecting the guy as young as I feel.
He isn’t real. An old guy sneaked in
Again, and I wish I hadn’t peeked.
Oh well, this isn’t really hell.
I have never thought I was hot,
One of those handsome lads that had
Everyone’s heads turning for them.

I had dim hope there for a while
But, no matter how much I smile
Nothing wins like smooth skin
Broad shoulders and big pecs.
I mean, I was not a wreck, but not
As I said, even a little bit hot.
Oh well, I got what I got, true?
Can I or you ever defeat genetics?
Like father like son, and mother,
Creates another generation of us;
Nice guys and gals, but plain,
And this old man is what remains.
Stacey May 9
I have to leak out
and spill over the edges
I have to be a nuisance to the passive state of things
If only just to be defiant
And scratch at the eyes of the flat environment in which people toil along their timelines without so much as a ripple to show for it
I have to let in the wind, and let it howl around my corners
and sock hop with me
I too often get bored of the sunshine that heats up stable things that barely move
I need storms and hurricanes
If only just to have something to say one day when youthful isn't how I'm described anymore
And the creases in my skin circle and intersect like a mosaic tapestry
And they ask for a story around the dinner table
Then I'll leak out all over again
In a violent rage
That will be a nuisance to the passive state of things
My birthday approaches like a train
I am stuck on the tracks of time

Nothing comes with being seventeen

College applications pile like snow
An avalanche waiting to bury me

Nothing comes with being seventeen

Adulthood looms like dark clouds
Ready to pick me up into the storm

Nothing comes with being seventeen
I'm not ready
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