There it is;
Beyond the bliss I have know;
Still the past,
Rumbling and bumping;
Still moving inside;
Occasionally wakened when I look your way;
Giggling inside my heart
With what might have been,
But never should have been.
Thumping around but never released.
It was just a thought,
never a start.

Made up of the dust
Of life's journey.
Picking up the bits
Swirling about me.
Soaking into me
The strength made
From events beyond
My control.
Sparkled with the joy
Of the unexpected happiness
Of life's great blessings.
At the end washed from me
So that I am cleansed
And rinsed onto my love ones
As a memory of what was.

Tip it over on the pillow;
Let it drain from deep within;
Sands of consciousness drain forth
in confusing stories of the night.
Trying to make sense of the depth of life,
Looking for forgiveness,
Attempting to right the wrongs,
Figuring the problems that can't be solved.
Flying over distant lands.
Talking happily with long lost friends.
Night is a time to drift and seek.
To meet the fears and conquer.
If only that dream can be found.

Cuddle up tight in a warm blanket;
With pillows surrounding;
Christmas tree blinking at me in the corner;
Fire crackling in the fireplace;
Hot chocolate on the table;
Fun book in my lap;
Not enough of these lazy days.
Kids come through shouting;
Goldens jump up in my lap tipping over cocoa;
This is the chaos that I know.
Time to wrap the gifts, let out the dogs, and treat the kids.
Thoughts of reading tossed aside with my book's lost mark.

You knew it was gonna happen;
You could have been clean for this one day;
Why am I standing here beside you?
All it took was this one month out of six.
Your parents spent so much money and hope.
Couldn't you have faked it just a little?
You fake caring and saying you are going to stop.
You fake giving a ****.
You fake looking for jobs
When all you really do is fish and hunt.
You carry a gun and can't pass a *** test.
Joy and bliss for you isn't worth a ****.

To him, it was a clear blue day;
His father came in the kitchen
Wearing a brown fedora;
He walked out of the morning chill;
Long puff of cotton strand pulled across the sky;
As the teacher sat in the classroom talking to his class,
this was his memory for Thanksgiving Day.
He never said where the father had been.
Was he a visitor-- did he go for milk.
The crisp morning air meant more than
the father's purpose.
Yet in the story, you knew the English teacher
longed for his father.
He drifted from the class to that time.
Poetry in his heart wasted on a rainy day in high school.

Never stumble down that path;
Whom shall I gather;
Whom shall I tease;
Tempt you with my thought;
Turn it in a phrase;
It is not for public consumption;
It is for personal pleasure;
Self absorption is all it really is;
Down the rabbit hole without a pole.
Time lost with reckless surrender.

Sunshine in the fall.
Happy fall orange and bright,
Leaves tumbling over playing kids.
Soft golds lighten the moods
With hope of gathering families.
Expectant mothers awaiting arrivals
in the spring with protective thoughts
of what will be.
Cool nights with warm cuddles.
Fall's happy gate of family time.

Waiting for the time.
Sitting in solitude.
Deciding what to do.
Never been so alone as now.
Sound the alarms.
Man the posts.
I need someone.
Could take the way out.
Asked if it should be hidden.
Nah, don't hide the exit.
Tomorrow will be a time to heal.
Do I want to last forever.
No, I want to rest alone.

Morning preparation for the big together;
Wonderful smells throughout the house;
Some remember that they did it all;
(But, they never really did);
Other's remember the warmth;
Grandma's house with all her love;
Captain Kangaroo before the start;
Mickey Mouse Club while we wait;
Children with hungry stomachs;
Waiting for the fathers to return
from hunting in the woods;
Mothers gossip in the kitchen;
The big together commenced with prayer;
Kids at the children's table;
Even kids with babies in high chairs
at the children's table as time went by;
Kids table became the envied table;
Chocolate cake for grandpa's birthday
celebrated at the big together
no matter the date, always last Thursday.
Men gathered with little care
As woman cleaned the mess clear.
The big together for another year.
Now, I have the big together.
Missing the kids table, I take a big sip of wine.

He kissed her cheek first
Because he thought the other
Would not notice.
She gave her the better gift
Because she thought the other
Would not notice.
The other would not notice
Because the other granted love
Without condition.
The other did not notice.
But after the other was gone,
the hearts of the children hurt
Because they remembered
Their choices and wished that
Once they had kissed the other first
and given the other a gift of equal value.
The other had no memory
Yet a memory lingered.

Am I suppose to sing praise of the clouds?
Only words of wisdom from my old lips?
Love long soured in my old heart.
Forgotten motion of days long past.
Tell the young to enjoy
What I no longer truly remember.
Sit in silent ponder of days.
Listen to music which raises thoughts
From ashes of days long gone.
Yet still there is beauty in the clouds.
The sweetness of love lingers
Softly on the edges of my heart.
My warning to the young is gentle advice.
My silence brings meditation and quiet with God.
The music gently surrenders the beauty of the past
to my forgetful mind.
Some wisdom does fall occasionally from my lips.

Weak with approaching death;
My body has slowly surrendered;
Strained with remembering;
All the love over all the years;
Gather my loved one's prayers;
My wife's tears of hope which
I can no longer take.
We had each other, my precious girl.
My lips want to form a smile.
It was a good run.
A valiant victory lap  for someone
who had legs that would no longer move.
The wreath is still upon my brow
and will be placed upon my coffin.
But it was a good run.
I stayed as long as I could.
I love you, Carolyn.

Things aren't always happy;
Tidy up the troubles;
Grateful for the good;
A loneliness in the crowd;
Wondering about place at life's table;
Surrounded by loved ones;
But feeling no attachment;
Others have so much to do;
Lost in chores;
Sweeping away thoughts of grief;
Searching for a reason;
Needing to appreciate where I am;
What I have done;
I just don't feel done.

Seeing the light in the crack;
The expectation rising with hushed murmur;
The lights lower;
The voices quiet;
The only sound is the curtain swinging open;
The light is on the stage;
People rest in shadows;
They await the story;
It is silence before the entrance;
A stage door opens and reveals the hero;
The hero walks to the end of the stage;
The hero stares into the shadows;
He delivers.
Only then people know who he is.

Water poured throughout the house;
You said I put you in the attic;
No rest all night;
I saved the goldens;
I swam to save the best;
You couldn't rest
As I collected the family
Pulling them from the depths
of flooding waters.
Yet we live in the woods.
There is no rain.
No water, only floods of loss
Which we fight each day.
Loss of memory.
Loss of movement.
Loss of employment.
Loss of liberty.
Pouring throughout our home.
Yet we pull each other out
and move to the next level.
Trying to rise above.

Skip past the difficult.
Don't let all life be wrung from you.
Taste the sweetness of blessings.
Struggle free of hardship.
Rainbows can be found
After most storms.

Truth rests better.
Numbed worries.
Forever blessings taking shape.
Living the best choices.
Ordered tenderness.
Releasing fear born pain.
Untold longings with no shame.
Sleeping mind gently settles.

Deep feeling in stomach's pit;
Growing with suspicion;
Knowing it is so;
Without actually seeing;
Faith in the goosebumps
of knowledge rising on my arm;
Because it is so;
Lick my lips;
Push back at the thought;
Only to have it surface again and again.
Ever growing, ever knowing.

Don't know the time.
Tremble with the line.
Fate is a freight.
No makeup to be had.
Leave me out.
No responsibility.
Don't hold out your hand.
Will not follow.
Hide in darkness.
Never know the answer.
Reason flees me.
Need no assistance.
Coping by myself.

Those evenings with gentle breezes.
Walking down the road.
Loving the freedom of the night.
Under the big harvest moon,
Not scared of the spooky notions
hiding in the shadows.
No **** clowns out this lit night.
Stars are singing to moon
with twinkling songs.
Spread out the blanket beneath
the moon and stars.
Tomorrow's worries are tossed
in the leaves which gently scatter.
Tonight is the big moon night.

Troubled parting.
Faithfulness lost.
Silver future not yet reached.
Lost emotion from each other.
Very little remains of together.
Like a sliver of glass stands deadly.
Ready to pierce each other
With bitterness of disregard.
To avoid the broken
Unspoken desertion.

Notice all the pull of the moon;
Like the feel of nature beneath my feet;
Build on scents with careful brew;
Flowing fate forward to tomorrow;
Reading people upon a glance;
Isolation and thought relief.

When I was a child,
Little convertibles were the car
to have;
You grew your hair long;
You walked bare foot;
Wore denim;
Big clothe bags;
Ate vegetables; and
Found yourself by
Travelling the road.

Night time quiet.
Fire sizzles and
throws sparks in the dark.
Leading eyes to follow the full moon,
resting low on trees.
Big and orange smiling
upon the earth.
Harvest moon glowing
autumn.
As the fire devours its nest,
Crackling with hungry delight.

Each has potential.
Trying to find the perfect fit.
Check each pocket.
Close each pouch.
Bushing fingers upon the glass.
Lost in whim of pleasure past.
Bell rings as shop door shuts.
A dash together in fall's cold rain.
The wet surrounds as laugh together.
Open and settle inside the car.
Lean forward for quick kiss.
Engine starts with smiling glance
Acknowledging presence
of together's gift.

Pull back,
Pull in,
Sink down,
Drown beneath,
Fear of future,
Evil fog rising,
To cover good.

Two sides
Neither so far.
Split by
Nonsense.
Spent by all.
Evil fog gliding
To cover the masses.

Spirit fled.
No more resources.
For a land so rich
Uncomprehending
Shutting down.
Command economy.
Evil fog lays waste
to profit.

Cynic or optimist
Believing you can push
future to your will.
When young, love potions.
When old, stronger notions.
Instead of pushing one,
you try to push many on your way.
Magic takes advantage of happenstance.
Claim ownership of luck.
Just nod with a knowing smile.
Your doing made it happen.
Probably did.
Fate holds hands with witches.
Which one is the guide.

Fullness bloomed on my tongue.
Filling my person with a newfound purpose.
Never knowing that life could feel so free.
So open, so many possibilities.
Then melted no longer strong.
Needed another taste once again
To see the purpose
To understand my future.
To acknowledge my past.
The taste was needed to open the possibilities.
Never again would life move forward without
the memory of that first taste.
Others would never be the same.
Quest in life remained for the sensation
of the first fullness.

Wake up with songs.
Feel rested from the night.
Time for blessings.
Not alone in my search.
Each day offers habit
executed with purpose.
Some days the purpose
is rewarded.
Granted those bright days.
A holiday, even though mundane.
Bright days are prayers answered.
Scattered in the storm of chaos.
Things go right with little or no push.

Smoke rises with a puff
which waters the eyes.
Tears run and are smoothed
with balled fists.
Charred scent blackens the air.
Grey lifts in the night to
the light of the open window
where you sit just inside.
Where you listen just inside.
Outside only quiet of crackling fire.
The light inside burns bright with no answer.
Smoke alone enters the house.

Jumping forward.
Leaving troubles
In search of gain.
Walking from pain
To  the triumphs.
Life offers both
Like the cycle of the moon.
Pulling the tides of my mood.
I just have to wait for the fullness
of the next.

It pours over my head
Landing on my shoulders
Because you think I am strong.
My knees buckle with the weight
of your anger and words.
Take them back.
My load can't stand them.
You were my salvation.
My blessing, my cooling fountain
Now merely a volcano of emotion.
So sorry it ended this way.
Go home.

My turtle heart was covered.
Sat in the middle of the path,
Of all I believed,
Of all I had done.
Justice would never fail.
People do what's right.
How many times
my turtle heart sang the
song in heavy traffic.
For thirty years, I crossed
that road.
On the day it counted most.
Traffic hit my turtle shell.
Cracked my heart and soul.

Each of us fills our cell
With the honey word
Imagination or real
Working to fill the nest
Building off the life collected
Humming with trial and error
Preparing this giant nest
Sharing with each other
The work we made.
Sweet, maybe deadly if too close.
Unknown workers.
Working side by side in this creation.
Unified in purpose.
Collected using smoke and mask.
To slap on biscuits and devour.

Down the red clay hill.
Tracks travel the gravel path.
Deep ditches filled with water
on either side.
Coal thrown from the railway cars.
Little girls walk along the tracks.
Gather the shiny black lumps.
Holding handfuls.
Listening for the ******* engine
for planned escape.
The jump aside and up the hill.
Not knowing the mighty weight
crushes past faster
than sound can warn.
Pulling under in brutal force.
Parents hit by crushing sadness.

Part left untold;
Not on the side
where can share
all that needs to be
shared.
Only half truths known;
the other half is burning
at my ribs and aching
to release.
Only the maker knows
the full truth.
Wicked to share the
full thought which
might not be the full
truth, but needs to be
said.
Not one wrong alone.
Unfortunate truth.
Doesn't make it hurt less.

Life offers no ease.
No rest from the hardship.
Just the misery of being.
Sleeping on rocks
With no relief.
Travelling in the turmoil
for the day.
Never feeling life's blessings.
Looking for release.
Rolling with the blows of constant woes.

When she was young and beautiful,
She mattered;
When she grew old and weak,
She no longer had a place.
She mattered when her legs
were thin and tan;
She did not matter when
her legs had ulcers and pus;
Where is her place;
How can she have no priority now;
Still loved, but no place.
A life not worth saving.
Only youth has value.
Age has wisdom to see
the place of age.

Dark outside with a lamp above.
Moths bouncing against the screen.
Last of summer pushed with a gentle chill.
Lean against the kitchen sink
in front of the window
Smelling the heavy musk of fall death and
the smoke of the fire pit outside.
Clearing up the supper plates.
Sipping at a deep brown whiskey
chilled by cube of ice.
Listening to the mellow Rock of eighties.
Washing dinner dishes not a chore
But a religion of reflection.

My mother rises on the pedestal
From the deep blue of the pool
With lipstick and perfect hair.
She is Esther Williams.
I flounder in life.
Looking for perfect.
Being just normal.
I am Rhoda - some style
Some wit, but no Esther.
Esther never understood
Rhoda's laugh at her flaws
Her sense of humor at her expense.
Esther wanted beauty and love.
Rhoda wanted beauty and love,
but knew it was a dream just like
rising from the pool with perfect hair.
You have to make believe those things.

The mist on the face;
Morning bright is hidden;
Fresh salty breeze covers the day;
Thoughts fog the morning walk.
Deep breath to move forward
away from anxious nags of
yesterday's problems.
Tumbling down the path of
lists to do.
Considering life's blessings
and gentle meditation.
Walking forward and counting steps.
Loudly silent.

Not feeling my age.
Outside air is crisp with challenge.
Crows feet are forgotten.
Listening to the sounds of night.
In the dim can still pass.
Sipping the rich purple
in my glass by the fire.
My ankle is still slim in my boot.
My sweater is wrapped around.
The firelight glows.
No place for my feeling to go.
Just sitting enjoying the spell.
Remembering what should have been.
Wishing not so much waste.
Head leaned forward.
Fall is beautiful - if not lonely now.

Scrape on the ground.
Held up as glides in the room.
Tossed behind in reckless play.
Torn with careless wear.
Seems to be a test of character.
Just the right length - debonair.
Too long - never give a care.
Carried by maid of honor.
Pulled by heel.
Pushed in passion.
Shortened for youth.
Lengthened for age.
Hidden at death.

Felt so pure, only you and I.
Fun together in all we did.
Memories are as fresh as the day lived;
Songs bring back with renewed luster
all sensations felt;
My thoughts often go back to our times.
Deep love, deep anger
Left unforgiven and unforgotten.

Asked just a question.
Now you know my soul.
It seemed so simple.
All given way.
Saw that look.
You knew you had me.
Defiance rose and fell away.
My time to turn.
So very done.
Deep breathe catching the close sob.
The reach for me unanswered.
Regret for sharing.
Loss of self.

Dream in the big world.
Always trying to catch up.
Falling behind with only thoughts.
Never independent.
Not part of this.
Flights into the abandoned areas of the mind.
Not belonging but never knowing it.
Choosing a path because it exists.
Could happen to anyone.
Yet it happens to her.

Longing without intimacy.
Most giving with selfish purpose.
Mechanical, practiced sharing.
Unknown thoughts hidden
in pleasant phrases that please the ear.
The surface look of caring.
To never touch the soul who knows only self.
Who explains love as an open feeling.
Why love one when consumed with many.
The bee in the garden.
Not too close to see the stains of  conceit.

Giant steps into the dark
Taking chance to meet the fate
Looking forward with face upturned
Meeting trouble with a grin
Cool breeze whipping at my hair
Never looking for what was missed.
Only seeking what will come.

What is lost
The time together until I see you;
My favorite song until it is sung;
The most delicious dish until
it rests upon my tongue,
at which time, I close my eyes
and taste it with emphasis as never before.
My beloved who left too soon, but
when I leave all nonsense here -- that too
will be as strong as ever before.
No longer planned, just lived.
No longer known, just loved.