8/3/11
Today another path occurred to me,
And seemed to cause a schism in my soul,
One half pursued a separate destiny,
My other half maintained its current role.
And for an instant both realities,
Were true as any moment foul or fair,
How much of life is what we know will be,
And not a coin descending through midair?
8/1/11
Children in a toy box,
Building what they can,
With wooden blocks and piled rocks,
And mounds of shifting sand.
An elephant, pretends the one,
The other plays a mule,
But neither one sees any fun,
Unless they set the rules.
And so they start to bicker,
The arguments begin,
The wood and stones start getting thrown,
In hopes that one will win.
And thus it ends, this playtime,
Benath dark, stormy skies,
Two babes who cry, blame, and deny,
With sand cast in their eyes.
7/31/11
We tend the gardens in the yard,
And hone our efforts to reclaim,
The weeks where we let down our guard,
From rampant weeds, fed fat by rain.
We gradually take back our land,
We tend and trim. Sweat stings and stains.
We dig and toil and make our stand.
The vagrant vegetation wanes.
And in the end we shall achieve,
A temporary victory,
In time the vines and clustered leaves,
Will cover up the earth we freed.
This battle shall rage on each year,
And long outlive us when we die.
We won't prevail, this much is clear.
Yet we'll be damned if we don't try.
7/30/11
Our little kitten snuck outside,
The basement door was left ajar.
Escaping to the dark of night,
He wandered off and journeyed far.
But soon became confused and lost,
As darkness claimed him for it's own,
His wanderlust brought bitter cost,
And fearful trauma far from home.
The world was larger than he'd thought,
From his safe, sleepy window gaze.
He bravely searched, but all for naught,
His path strayed, aimless and afraid,
Until at last his plight did end,
Fate shined its light and he was saved,
By searching owners and their friends,
And though he'd badly misbehaved,
They cheered and brought him home again,
To where he lounges, plays and feeds,
And dark strange sights don't startle him.
Perhaps a lesson all should heed,
Although there may be pretty views,
And vistas through the window glass,
Consider all there is to lose,
Like simple joys, and little cats.
7/28/11
You would not let a gambler hold your purse,
For he will use its contents as his own,
He'll risk it all on folly, and what's worse,
All profit shall be kept by him alone.
You would not trust a gambler with your life,
For this too would be squandered and misspent.
You'd never give your soul to greed and vice,
And yet, each day we trust the government.
7/27/11
Weeding in the yard again,
In vain attempts to extricate,
Green creeping tangles which offend,
And yet, why do they irritate?
Why do some plants give happiness,
While others cultivate distaste,
Some blooms and shoots shall blossom bliss,
With those adjacent seen as waste.
Do they have not the right to grow,
As those we favor and protect?
They share no care nor love bestowed,
Yet thrive despite our cruel neglect.
Alone, for this tenacious skill,
Should they not somehow be adored?
Alas, the heart loves what it will,
With all else it beholds abhorred.
7/26/11
We stay up later than advised,
And risk exhaustion come the day,
To claim back hours from our lives,
Which work and duty steal away.
This strange rebellion launched against,
Responsibility and time,
Shall yield ironic recompense.
As early morning hours chime,
We celebrate our victory,
In repossessing leisure's prize,
Then pay our dues repeatedly,
The whole next day with bloodshot eyes.
7/25/11
Crickets chirp and peepers cheep,
Among the buzzing katydids,
To pierce the stagnant summer heat,
With brash, chaotic choruses.
An insect song once taught to me,
So long ago when I was young,
The same chaotic melody,
As when, at first, I heard it sung.
This random chatter comforts me,
To know despite how much will change,
Such blissful clicking symphony,
Across the years, sounds just the same.
Across the years, sounds just the same.
7/24/11
A time that we enjoy away from home,
So far apart from habit and routine,
The unfamiliar, foreign, and unknown,
Brings pleasant, jelaous, times in which to glean,
The happy lives that others seem to lead,
Which cast a fleeting glimpse of greener glades.
Like browsing a broshure of destinies,
To question every choice we've ever made.
7/23/11
Perhaps all ghosts and spirits we might see,
Are not lost or unsettled as surmized,
But living out their fondest memories,
And happiest of moments from their lives.
It may be that the heaven they have earned,
Is to relive their favorite days again,
If this is true, I surely must return,
And have this day forever, without end.
7/20/11
We fly, suspended in the air
So many miles above the ground,
In transit, neither here nor there,
Lives missing, neither lost nor found.
Our thoughts aloft, our souls adrift,
So distant from the life we know,
Our consciousness and spirits lift,
From woes kept to the earth below.
As souls loosed from the mortal flesh,
And left unteathered, roaming free,
The weary float and find their rest,
Between days past and destiny.
7/7/11
The clocks keep stopping on my shelves,
Despite my fawning diligence,
To keep them wound and running well,
In clean, unhindered temperance.
And yet their ticking slows and wanes.
I find them stalled, the hours missed.
Is lack of balance to be blamed,
Perhaps some need of maintenance?
Or else is this some subtle sign,
The frozen moments show to me,
A caution not to press my time,
But venture forward patiently.
Far better to have moments lost,
Than count each one obsessively,
Lest seconds measure bitter cost,
Of hours which have known no peace.
The clocks keep stopping on my shelves,
Despite my fawning diligence,
To keep them wound and running well,
In clean, unhindered temperance.
And yet their ticking slows and wanes.
I find them stalled, the hours missed.
Is lack of balance to be blamed,
Perhaps some need of maintenance?
Or else is this some subtle sign,
The frozen moments show to me,
A caution not to press my time,
But venture forward patiently.
Far better to have moments lost,
Than count each one obsessively,
Lest seconds measure bitter cost,
Of hours which have known no peace.
7/6/11
In troubled times we longingly,
Think fondly of the everyday,
And crave plain mundane, normalcy,
The times between our disarray.
But as such climates come to be,
And our recoveries assumed,
We may crave kindly sympathies,
For well concealed, yet tender wounds.
Alas, the humdrum casts it's spell,
And through it's chatter we must know,
That those who know us wish us well,
And thus tend to forget our woes.
In troubled times we longingly,
Think fondly of the everyday,
And crave plain mundane, normalcy,
The times between our disarray.
But as such climates come to be,
And our recoveries assumed,
We may crave kindly sympathies,
For well concealed, yet tender wounds.
Alas, the humdrum casts it's spell,
And through it's chatter we must know,
That those who know us wish us well,
And thus tend to forget our woes.
7/4/11
Sinking slowly under, grasping light and gasping air,
Drifting through the sorted shadows left from days gone by,
caught along the current's edge 'twixt comfort and despair,
Singing sorrow's symphony of laughter, screams, and sighs.
When will I emerge from these dark brooding depths i've found?
Can one swim to shore, once so far stranded and estranged?
Or perhaps, not fight the tide nor fear that i may drown,
But let the water fill my lungs and know that I am changed.
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