12/31/11
The end of year brings final reckoning,
And bears as witness to this life evolved,
A time when we may match our shortcomings,
With faithful pacts to which we are resolved.
We make a promise to our former selves,
That must be kept by those we shall become,
For which fulfillment, only time will tell,
Once we again assess the next year done.
And so, I too have pondered my own place,
My largess and arrears in life's accounts,
And vow to grant less fear and greater faith,
To tender more forgiveness and less doubt.
I pledge my greater love and charity,
The first recipient of which, is me.
12/30/11
The year's long course is finally almost run,
And as the day approaches nigh, I find,
This book of poetry is almost done.
This daily challenge, I myself assigned,
At last, shall be complete and put to rest,
This journal's journey reached it's fateful end,
And yet, i feel i haven't passed a test,
So much as lost a dear and constant friend.
The year's long course is finally almost run,
And as the day approaches nigh, I find,
This book of poetry is almost done.
This daily challenge, I myself assigned,
At last, shall be complete and put to rest,
This journal's journey reached it's fateful end,
And yet, i feel i haven't passed a test,
So much as lost a dear and constant friend.
12/27/11
The strangely still and quiet time that falls,
'Twixt Christmas night and after new years day,
Of unexpected cards and happy calls,
As obligations drift and schedules stray.
All business is conducted half asleep,
Deferred, adjourned, extended and postponed,
By those who stop the ticking clocks to keep,
The season, safely hidden in their homes.
The days are long and lasting, soft and warm,
Like twilight's edge, suspended in the cold,
An eye in life's relentless raging storm,
A chapter closed, before the next is told.
12/24/11
Why are my childhood thoughts of Christmas eve,
So full of happiness and free of care?
Perhaps it was the myths which I believed,
Of sleigh and reindeer flying through the air,
Perhaps anticipation through the night,
Of gifts that made their way beneath the tree,
By steady glow of softly blinking lights,
And snow swept scenes appearing magically.
Yet, as I grow, I think such memories,
Must issue from a youthful innocence.
As I have lived my daily destiny,
I know more of this world and trust it less.
And so on Christmas, I think i must try,
To put aside my disenchanted woes.
To see this earth as through a child's eyes,
May be the greatest of all gifts bestowed.
12/22/11
One last chance before the coming storm,
To execute the lengthy list of chores,
To clear the clutter of our daily norms,
With only fleeting hours left before
The frantic winds of celebration start,
And carry us away in happiness.
We shall proceed with love within our hearts,
Providing they don't give out from the stress.
12/21/11
Once every year we happily,
Explore the attic and retrieve,
The dressings for our Christmas tree,
As we festoon its boughs and leaves,
With ornaments and artifacts,
Collected over time and stored,
All bric-a-brac which harkens back,
To times remembered and adored,
Bright points of life, lit on display,
That tell of ages come and gone,
Like trees, so we shall wilt away,
But through these trinkets linger on.
12/18/11
An antique sofa seat
It's inner springs gone askew
The padding once soft and replete,
Diminished and almost worn through.
It's threadbare fabric strains,
And pulls against weakened seams,
Held rough on a weak creaking frame,
Of damaged and shifting beams.
And yet, one still may find,
Great pleasure that is to be known,
When taking a beat to recline,
And think about each separate home,
This furniture has seen,
Grand moments in life it has shared,
Idyllic days,calm and serene,
And comfort from darkest despair.
Agreements and dissent,
The happiness countering tears,
The jubilant cheers and repent,
Of long passing months and quick years.
A resting point for souls,
Who stop for a moment and stay,
To catch a quick breath and then go,
As life leads them off on their way.
12/14/11
A year of long planning shall end tonight,
The hour resolves our worried wait.
The realization of our foresight,
All hopes and all fears shall culminate,
This one moment holding all potency,
Contained in the instant of a wish.
Although there's no knowing of what will be,
For better or worse it has come to this.
12/9/11
We may worry all we wish,
We may wring our hands and fret,
But reality is this,
And what hasn't happened yet,
Will transpire as it will,
Though we wait with tortured souls,
We will never know until,
Future hours chime and toll.
'tis far better to reflect,
On the best of all that's been,
Than to painfully expect,
What is still yet to begin.
We may meddle to no end,
We may writhe in agony,
But for all we may pretend,
Nothing changes what will be.
12/8/11
The earth is angry 'neath it's shifting soil,
It's heat is seeping through rough broken seams,
Releasing clashing forces long embroiled,
In elemental pressures, belching steam.
The billowing of gasses to the sky,
Will tell us of a fury forged below.
The passions of creation never die,
And shall provide a shrine where we might go,
To be reminded of our fragile place,
Where, for the moment, we're allowed to be,
And live upon this skin by nature's grace,
As masters, only of fortuity.
12/6/11
As I was floating aimless in the ocean tides,
Between the windswept surface swells and teeming reefs,
An aged passing turtle happened swimming by,
While crossing through the endless waterways beneath.
He fanned his flipper limbs and turned about to see.
Through curious black eyes, he gently set his gaze,
Upon this strange invading, abnormality
Who's home did not belong at all beneath the waves.
This chance encounter, intimate yet far away,
Like somehow reaching through a wall of solid glass,
Connection, precious, but not ever meant to stay,
Two oceans overlapping as the currents pass.
12/5/11
I met a man who lived in paradise,
And on a simple whim I asked him this,
What place on earth could possibly entice,
More than his own abode, what would he wish?
Where would he choose to go if he could fly?
What other vistas might he long to see?
And so this lucky, lonely man replied,
That he would visit friends and family.
11/30/11
Not enough hours throughout the day,
To manage all matters which must be done.
No measured span that can fast allay,
Assignments which hemorrhage as dies the sun.
No ample planning or strategy,
Shall render this randomness organized.
Yet, all this chaos may set us free,
While casting ambition out from our lives.
11/29/11
The anchor man who held the rope,
Within a bitter tug of war,
He stood his ground and strained and coped.
Where others weakened he gave more.
As one by one his team withdrew,
And selfishly released their grasp,
His perseverance carried through,
His might increased, until at last,
The anchor was victorious,
The other team at last succumbed.
The winners cheered, uproarious,
Though thanks belonged to only one:
The man who wondered quietly,
At how his arms had scarred and grown,
And how his fond society,
Had left him strongest, yet alone.
11/28/11
There was a little girl,
Who wanted nothing more,
But to appear to all the world,
As those she'd seen before.
She craved a grown up life,
And things that grown-up's own,
To be a mother and a wife,
And have a fancy home.
Despite all she achieved,
She never really grew,
It isn't what you have, you see,
It's all in what you do:
Like being fair and just,
Not arrogant and vain,
And being someone you can trust,
With both one's joy and pain.
That's how adults behave,
Through kindnesses they choose,
So, still she stands, small and afraid,
Dressed in her mother's shoes.
11/27/11
The true solution we so often find,
That yields the precious answers we may seek,
Is simply disregarded at one time,
And overlooked- our vision incomplete.
Any yet when outside circumstances change,
We find ourselves returning back again,
Our preconceptions are at last estranged,
And starting over, we achieve our ends.
11/26/11
Hotel rooms are haunted places,
Hotel rooms are haunted places,
Cursed as travelers come and go,
Seeping stains upon these spaces,
By the weeping of their souls.
Sadness soiled in the carpets,
Happiness caught in the drapes,
Places tainted by quick respites,
Passions born of love and hate.
Time blows through, thoughts fogged and clouded,
Lives roam in and out like wraiths,
In such rooms so marred and crowded,
Should we not pay lower rates?
11/25/11
People will hurt you because they can,
To increase their status or self respect,
By cold crushing blows which will favor their plans,
Or worse, unaware and through selfish neglect.
Yet, you must resist them because you can,
Ignore all their quick-cutting stabs jabs and twists,
To lighten, despite them, your burdens and stand,
Dispelling their hellishness with happiness.
People will hurt you because they can,
To increase their status or self respect,
By cold crushing blows which will favor their plans,
Or worse, unaware and through selfish neglect.
Yet, you must resist them because you can,
Ignore all their quick-cutting stabs jabs and twists,
To lighten, despite them, your burdens and stand,
Dispelling their hellishness with happiness.
11/24/11
Thankfulness is not mandatory,
Gratitude is not a state always shared,
Everyone has a separate story,
Not all receive what is right and what's fair.
Such celebration and grand emoting,
Arrogance wrapped in a holiday cheer,
Rather than thankful self promoting,
Might we not venture to better the year?
Thankfulness is not mandatory,
Gratitude is not a state always shared,
Everyone has a separate story,
Not all receive what is right and what's fair.
Such celebration and grand emoting,
Arrogance wrapped in a holiday cheer,
Rather than thankful self promoting,
Might we not venture to better the year?
11/21/11
My car is my confessional,
My therapist and confidant.
The chamber shell to safely tell,
All buried fears and secret wants.
Along my daily long commute,
I shall expound my love and hate,
My inner thoughts conveyed forsooth,
Across the threads of interstate.
Where might and madness are confined,
Where dreams and demons may be met,
And all the miles I leave behind,
May let me journey and forget.
11/17/11
The winter's darkness reaches us again,
Announced by daylight's grey and evening's pitch.
Formation flocks of fleeing geese and wrens,
Abscond to kinder climes, still lush and rich.
The cool seeps into corners, where it rests,
And chills the pockets in which summer hides.
All clinging greenery that still protests,
Is slowly overcome by frost and dies.
The days are short as if the sun itself,
Shall seek to nestle 'neath the skyline's brink.
The creatures scurry with alerted stealth,
To hoard their stores by cunning and instinct.
And so, we too must gather and prepare.
The light of spring is lost and far away.
For months to come, our breaths adorn the air,
As we recall the warmth of gentler days.
11/15/11
There is a woeful narritave,
Of sorrowful and desperate scenes.
Attaching segments as we live,
It slithers, skulks, and serprntines.
About the corners of our souls,
It runs a circle that repeats,
Until this tale is all we know,
A recitation of defeat.
We must dissect this worm of words,
With sharpened will, deft and controlled,
To sever all we've known and heard,
And live a story unforetold.
There is a woeful narritave,
Of sorrowful and desperate scenes.
Attaching segments as we live,
It slithers, skulks, and serprntines.
About the corners of our souls,
It runs a circle that repeats,
Until this tale is all we know,
A recitation of defeat.
We must dissect this worm of words,
With sharpened will, deft and controlled,
To sever all we've known and heard,
And live a story unforetold.
11/14/11
Tickets, passes, reservations,
Moments planned for our vacation,
Days laid out like brochure pages- bright gems strung on chains of gold.
Yet, upon more contemplation,
Should we not show hesitation,
Lest fall prey as countless sages who thought future days foretold?
When we paint the future's portrait,
Do we not engage a forfeit,
To the very fragile fabric, canvas tautened underneath?
Though we may choose to ignore it,
Time obscures all sight before it,
All itineraries - magic tales suspending disbelief.
11/12/11
Discretion never worked to save a man
Who wasn't at the time already saved,
And prudence never once ensured a plan,
For which the path was not already paved.
No caution ever set a rising trend,
No heedful care acquired accolades,
Yet recklessness has molded gods from men,
Who saw the risks and ventured anyway.
11/8/11
I live as if watching a foreign parade,
Of marching, and fanfare and frivolity,
And though I may sing with the grand music played,
I understand not, what I hear and I see.
Although these transitional passions inspire,
One's full comprehension- as much as I try,
I have no more choice than to stand and admire,
And let this processional life pass me by.
11/5/11
Beneath a hundred voice's babbling din,
Inside the chattering cacophony,
We sit protected, nestled close within,
And share our conversation privately.
Between the teeming threads of speech, our words,
May safely make their meanings known to us,
But travel incognito and unheard,
Kept undeciphered from outside our trust.
We plan our fledgeling futures publically,
Our deepest needs, desires, hopes and fears,
And openly discuss our destinies,
In buried prayers which only God might hear.
11/4/11
Most fires will ignite from carelessness,
Their tinder, lack of forethought, sparked by haste,
Then fanned to flame by panic's panting breaths,
As fumbling countermeasures feed the blaze.
Some quickly run about with stomping feet,
To minimize the quick combustion's rate,
While others stand, observing uselessly,
To cry, accuse, complain and speculate.
The clouds of acrid smoke shall blind our eyes,
Thus we must search within for our defense,
Infernos feed on fuel of fear and pride,
And only shall be doused by common sense.
11/1/11
Tonight, there is an unplanned holiday,
The hearth's hot fires crackle, hiss and roar,
Delectables are laid out on display,
As fragrant wine and bubbling champagne pour.
The sounds of mirth and laughter fill the night,
As soothing, fluid, music gently sings.
Tonight, the winter blackout stole our lights,
But here together we shall live as kings.
10/30/11
The skeletons untethered from their strings,
Are gathered up and swiftly packed away,
Become abeyant, harmless, lifeless things,
Possessed by neither terror nor dismay.
The witches rest. The lycanthropes transform,
Back into human shapes and slink away,
The undead flee from mundane, daily norms.
And ghosts retreat from coming light of day.
We say good-bye to all our giddy frights.
And put aside our silly childlike fears.
We shrink the shadow's stretch, we raise the lights,
And don the costumes we must wear all year.
10/27/11
From midnight shadows into morning light,
I creep about, and forge ahead despite,
My tired bloodshot eyes and weary limbs,
So much to do before the day begins.
The sunlit hours shall suffice for most,
But here I haunt and wander like a ghost,
For I have promises I need to keep,
And dreams to carry out before I sleep.
.
From midnight shadows into morning light,
I creep about, and forge ahead despite,
My tired bloodshot eyes and weary limbs,
So much to do before the day begins.
The sunlit hours shall suffice for most,
But here I haunt and wander like a ghost,
For I have promises I need to keep,
And dreams to carry out before I sleep.
.
10/16/11
Some claim arriving late is very rude,
A careless, thoughtless act of indolence,
A crass and disregardful attitude.
Yet, I would venture that the worse offense,
Occurs when one is strictly so inclined,
To planning perfect, punctuality.
That they arrive, instead, ahead of time.
The late, at least, may garner sympathy,
For what misfortunes and adverse events,
Conspired to restrict them in their gait.
An early caller claims no such defense,
Implying that you were not worth the wait.
Some claim arriving late is very rude,
A careless, thoughtless act of indolence,
A crass and disregardful attitude.
Yet, I would venture that the worse offense,
Occurs when one is strictly so inclined,
To planning perfect, punctuality.
That they arrive, instead, ahead of time.
The late, at least, may garner sympathy,
For what misfortunes and adverse events,
Conspired to restrict them in their gait.
An early caller claims no such defense,
Implying that you were not worth the wait.
10/15/11
Wraiths and fiendish ghouls descend,
May attic stair- it's time again,
For wicked creatures, seldom seen,
To walk the earth on Halloween.
The skeletons, the living dead,
And several disembodied heads,
Awaken from their cardboard crypts,
To revel in mischievousness
One by one, they slowly rise,
From yearly slumber to reprise,
Their roles of terror, shock and fright,
Which feed our morbid, dark, delight.
Release all creatures from their tombs,
All-Hallow's-Eve approaches soon!
Wraiths and fiendish ghouls descend,
May attic stair- it's time again,
For wicked creatures, seldom seen,
To walk the earth on Halloween.
The skeletons, the living dead,
And several disembodied heads,
Awaken from their cardboard crypts,
To revel in mischievousness
One by one, they slowly rise,
From yearly slumber to reprise,
Their roles of terror, shock and fright,
Which feed our morbid, dark, delight.
Release all creatures from their tombs,
All-Hallow's-Eve approaches soon!
10/7/11
An unexpected change of standing plans,
May seem at first an inconvenient thing,
But altering ones course from where it stands.
Is valued for the promise that it brings.
While fine to have our expectations met,
And realize our visions seen in deed,
Our regimented minds must not forget,
What inspiration comes of being freed.
10/4/11
When one leaves home they are themselves,
For nothing stands to alter them.
Their routine life shows someone else-
A false appearance they pretend.
But does conformance, day to day,
Definine our minds and shape our souls,
Or is it when we step away,
That we assume our own true roles?
We're, all of us, chamelions,
Who let the darkness pale our skins,
Then change our shading in the sun.
Are such disguises worn within?
Which life is real, which one untrue?
Does truth discern between the two?
9/29/11
We quickly pack our things and swiftly flee,
Abandoning our livelihoods and home.
We stow possessions under lock and key,
Protected in our absence as we roam.
We leave behind all comforts known to us,
To venture forth as wanderlust compels,
Upon this self selected exodus,
Escaping from the island of ourselves.
9/27/11
Why, in our lives, are we so often asked,
To render pure impossibility?
We somehow rise up to the lofty task,
Then hear that our results are under par.
For every mountain moved, another test,
Awaits the strain of our abilities.
We're called to catch the moon upon request,
Then criticized for leaving out the stars.
9/23/11
A friend's success we hear by word of mouth,
Is no less very pleasant news indeed.
A happy tale transferred by any route,
Is welcome to be told and to retell.
Yet fortune heard firsthand is without doubt,
The kindest way to have such news received,
For when we are included and sought out,
The blessing then becomes our own as well.
9/20/11
There once was a person who needed to show,
That he was the best and the smartest of all,
And even in times when this just wasn't so,
He learned to inflate things, no matter how small.
Thus people would think he did more than his share.
Of course, if he couldn't, he simply would steal,
But give minor credit, to prove he was fair,
And make his contrived contributions seem real.
He'd always agree, whether falsehood or true,
Unless he could profit from shooting you down.
When no one was watching, he'd ask what you knew,
Then make you look small with his betters around.
He did all these things to help get him ahead,
This talentless hack with an envious thirst.
The irony is, one fine day he was dead,
And for all his plotting, he'd gotten there first.
9/19/11
Words running rampant,
For every detail,
Thread like a serpent,
That eats it's own tail.
No resolution,
As each cycle breaks,
Waxing solution,
Then waining opaque.
Soon we are swallowed,
By all our own thoughts,
Proffered and followed,
Then countered and caught.
Whirlpools in oceans,
Which drown and destroy,
Spiraling motions,
Encircling a void.
Growth in slow tangents,
Like shell on a snail.
Words running rampant,
For every detail.
9/18/11
At times we find ourselves involved,
In needed fits of exercise,
A newfound passion and resolve,
To physically achieve our best.
More oft than not this task revolves,
Around financial enterprise,
Investment as a means to solve,
The issue of our laziness.
For nothing else will guarantee,
Our promises remain intact,
Than offering a precious fee,
Ensuring we obtain results.
We join a club and hope to be,
Enabled through this costly pact.
For only by these means shall we,
Behave at all like grown adults.
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