Each day brings it closer.
Started as a whisper.
Moaning to a living known.
A struggle to face.
A fight that can not be won.
Yet belief in delay.
So much yet to be done.

Unfortunate happenings;
Realities starkly displayed;
Knowledge can't be unknown;
Some things ache too much;
Festers with time
even when pardon promised;
Memory strongly unforgiving
as much for the doer as the done.

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.

Stop toting.
Lift with reward.
Sorry short.
Not sorry lived,
Unload the burden.
Do the spectacular.
Walk with direction.
Love with reckless abandon
Each day with open heart.
Hear the news
Not with sorrow,
But with understanding
Sorry short,
Not sorry lived.

Long story.
With emphasis and detail.
Just the right amount of feeling.
Never meet my eye.
Your sister calls it
Your lying face.
Your chin is stiff.
So caught.
Even you forget
What is truth and
What is fib.
At the end our eyes meet.
You see it.
Disappointment floods.
You know it.
Yet, the step is from me
Not the story.
No more chance.
Just regret.
Done and made, the choice.
Unlucky, you say.
With so much thought,
not truly luck,
Just a choice.

Going for unknown.
Living for pleasure.
Finding none.
Moving in the path of others,
Reckless disregard.
Unnamed and alone.
Hoping someone will stop
Offer normal as a way.
Taking the next hit
Until the day is dark.
Unloved and scrapped.

*****
Under
In
Crestfallen
Indigo
Dreams
Eternal

The room is spinning;
In my mind
I try to jump on top
As if I am on a Disney ride.
Feeling the sensation
Like teacups spinning.
I don't want to stand
And fall from the ride.
So I rest with eyes shut
Caught on the ride.
My own personal park.

Glistening with truth.
Reflections in your eyes
Of dreams unshared.
Never thought to hide
what was reflected
clearly like a camera
in a mirror.
Thought it was a moment
caught with special care.
But it was a moment shared
with reckless naivete.
Youth doesn't understand
what the world so easily sees.
Stop the false, don't pose with me.

Seemed like a future
Fitted to a time
Which seemed real.
The moon full
Shining
With a promise
Remembered.
Was a dream once known
But now the truth
Wrapped comfortably
Around with friendly
Familiarity.

With eager eyes viewing.
With hushed tones
so as not to miss the cue.
Sitting on the edge of knowledge.
Just a mist of possibilities.
Not today.
Earnest worry cannot deliver.
Wait another day.

Know your place
Step away
Too much shows a lacking
Of the one who should have known better
Walk softly
The one lacking is crowded
Love of village is never
What mother seeks
Mother wants no threat
Step softly with others kids
Know your place
Step softly in your place
Love with proper distance

Time whipped into a lacy dress.
About ankles with an upturned face.
Short cut curls and hanging veil.
Upturned face with glowing smile.
Handsome man in morning suit
With gloved hand holding the laced arm.
Wedding cake delicately held.
Now, a dream of the past black and white.
Another with gown sweeping at the ground.
Long blonde hair held up in pins.
A man in dress mess grinning down.
Walking beneath arched swords.
Glossy in color within a book.
Tomorrow a low dipped gown.
A knowing smile.
A quick little service
With a loud wild party.
Just how it is.

Sit in a pile.
Breathless and forward leaning.
Head bowed with thought.
Opportunity for quiet prayer.
No movement, just thought.
To be weak is to think.

Triple dip time,
Dreadful creeping
Stormy pain.
Not worth the good.
Lame stable.
Next time better thought.
Not caught in the weep.

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.

The whiff of smoke.
The unforgettable notes of songs
Sweetly in my ear.
The color of those caring downcast eyes
reflected in the stormy sky.
Creased love letters and dried flowers
The smell in summer evening air.
Scraps of past.
Dreaming with what is left
since my one has left.

Once I knew my way;
No need for a map;
Sometimes I grew bored
Or tired with the journey;
But I did not lose my goal.
Then I began to walk
Others’ paths
From my own.
Somehow they slipped me.
Now I am lost
Without a map.
Please return me to my way
So that I may complete
My trip.

One was just  alike
The Other was so different
One was first known
The Other was last known
One was just a dream
The Other was a life
One was remembered
The Other was forgotten
One was nothing
The Other was everything

Old Porsche parked on hill;
Fall bitting in the air,
As if these carefree days
Of term papers and lectures
Will last forever:
The Zombies moaning
On the radio about
The time of the season.
A hidden bottle of Jack
Under the passenger seat
Waiting for the barn fire.
Beauty of youth and
Nothingness on the cusp
Of meaning and purpose.

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.

Whispers falling all around.
Eyes staring with reproach.
How could it have been done that way?
Whispers caught in the breeze
From stories long ago
The sting still felt.
Small towns don't forget.
Wondering who knows
Who shares the tales with new unknowns
To walk with head held high
Whispers mold the air
Don't they know
It's not my usual way.
It  has been ten years.
Whispers still fall all around
As I walk down the street.
Without a friend.

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.

I asked my sister for her words.
The only word she had, why?
I told her, she had more.
She shook her head, why?

I told her to write from her heart.
Her only word why?
It feels good to share.
She stared at me blankly "Why?"

I grabbed her hand and placed my pen.
Again she shook her head, "Why?"
She saw my frustration and took the pen.
She wrote her poem:

Why am I doing this?
She made me, that's why.
No better, no worse,
I've nothing to share, why?

Never accepting what I say;
Always reading more in simple no;
Just sit still;
Stop the search for undertone;
Just as I say;
No more, no less;
No importance at all;
Just is;
Live your life with as it seems.
Stop the thought of so much more.
Happiness may actually find you
If you cease.

You said, I would be fine;
You said the time would be mine;
You said your time had come;
You said your time was done;
You said do it all, under the sun;
You said you were leaving;
I wasn't fine;
The time wasn't mine.
Now, I want to join you because my time feels done;
Why did you leave me?

Why have I forgotten
Is it to ease?
Why have I forgotten
Is it forgiveness?
Why have I forgotten
Is it punishment?
Why have I forgotten
Is it merely fate?

So ever felt a dare?
Who would know?
Just the thrill of no.
So you said no,
I did it.
I felt the power
Of shouldn’t do.
Then, your sorrow.
The thrill was lost.
The dream was spent.
Just like that.

Alas, it was not wine
Just late coffee
Kept me stirred.
So I swirled.
Wicked dance of
Wide awake.

Will I never again,
Glow with expectation,
Feel the touch of lightening.
Will I never again,
Be the one that wants,
Be needed to fulfil.
Will I never again,
Be so close to perfect,
Embraced in rich together.
Will I never again,
Feel the pull,
To never end.

Winter longer
Than any other season.
Crisp blue skies.
Wet days
To give way
To spring.
******* the old.
Who fear to never
See the promise.
Fertilize with patience.
Ready the field.
For green is waiting.

Birds sang outside the window;
Sun started to fill the room.
Urge led to shame.
What seemed easy in the dark,
seemed wrong in light.
Wrong choice.
Wrong one.
Take it all back.
Wrong morning.
Picking up the scattered pieces.
No evidence to tell.
Tight lip departure.
Close that door.

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.

Black wood cook stove
Lit with kindling;
In the corner of the house;
Warm dry heat;
Smutting up throughout;
Smell of char and cedar;
Just obstacle to the toddler
Reaching for wants.
Seared flesh.
Confusing pain.
Just her arm, not her face.
No scars remain.
The stove long gone.
Cold lonesome house
still smells of smoke.

From the beginning,
The ending was my greatest fear;
Knowing that it had to come, but
not when and how;
Years later, no one's fault-
No loss of interest;
Mere limitation of man.
Time awarded bliss;
Later, the worst fear.
It came drowning me
in the numbness of alone.

Time to ration out the quota.
Enough to make sense-
But not so much-
The mix falls flat
Write all the words
That rise.
Even still some days
the words fall flat.
Rainy days cause better words.
Rain causes memories to rise.
Sunshine melts thoughts.
Too bright to share
Too knowing.
Dark corners bring better treats.
Write all words,
but know some fail.

It is a sickness.
Words pour from me
Truth and fantasy
Since a child.
I have a writing disorder.
People run for fear I'll share.

When in the fever, it spills from me
on napkins and paper bags.
It surrounds me.
It drowns me.

The disorder seizes me.
Words written in lost notebooks
long forgotten.
The writings disappear, but the sickness
never goes.

Uncontrollably, as green in May,
words spread over me.

You are my three--
I remember my three--
I will never forget my three--
Let me see--
You are--
My Three--
You are--
My girls--
Your names are--
You are my three.

Didn't expect that
Just inspect the car
Four bad tires
Just looking for a place to park
Ticket.
Leaky pipe
What a bill
Full on love
Low on funds
Making do, but feeling done.
Young and poor,
Still so blessed.
Wisdom's wasted on the old.