4/20/11

A sunset never tires, although witnessed countless times.

Though blue skies commonly transpire, still they tantalize.

Familiar are the sun and stars, yet often they entrance,

And frequent vistas near and far will conjure our romance.

These backdrop constants never cease to summon wonderment,

And majesty, though they may be an everyday event.

So lives true love, habitual, enduring through the years,

Yet witnessed with enraptured soul each moment it appears.

4/19/11
Today it was a nothing day,
No circumstance of consequence,
No lofty contributions made,
Nor pivotal turn of events.
Just ordinary segments stitched,
Together in dull tapestry.
And yet, I find it fortunate,
That quietness has come to me.
Far better to be unconsumed,
Than faced with frantic woes to bear.
For those today engaging doom,
My boring day is but a prayer.

4/18/11

The tiniest of wounds affect us so,

And ache beyond their scope in heart and mind.

Perhaps these slight offences swell and grow,

Infectious, left to fester, by design.

For if life’s trifles may be amplified,

And pondered by the soul obsessively,

Our deeper injuries may be denied,

Distracting us from greater misery.

Perhaps an unjust weight is thus bestowed,

Upon the lighter pains which we may feel.

The tiniest of wounds affect us so,

Lest we should anguish that which never heals.

4/17/11

A person with conviction can’t be  reached,

For he becomes a prisoner of his mind.

The arguments of truth may be beseeched,

But cannot pierce presumption’s iron blinds.

It’s vain to whisper reason or to shout,

For deafness shall afflict the satisfied.

Each time, somewhere, a man abandons doubt,

A piece of wisdom everywhere has died.

4/16/11

One month ago we cursed the snow,

And wished that it would finally wane.

But now at last, the cold has passed.

Therefore, we damn the falling rain.

Then once the Spring has taken wing,

Heat shall receive our censuring.

Is comfort rare, or to be fair,

Is it our solace to complain?

4/15/11

When someone tells you they don't like a thing,
It's best if you refrain from asking why.
And if you ask, it's best not arguing,
Against the reasons that they might provide.
Then if you argue, you should not insist,
And force it on them once they've made their case.
Concede your own dislikes, and each man his,
Lest you become the object of distaste.

4/14/11

A telegraph tapped from within the mind,
To warn our paths away from worldly harm,
Electric networks, threaded and entwined,
Protecting flesh through guidance and alarm.
Advising us of varied stimulus,
That consciousness, perhaps, has not perceived,
And every point our fragile skin may touch,
Awaits the cold reply of honesty.
But once our other senses grow aware,
And know from whence a wound originates,
To let it's trauma linger seems unfair.
Should not our pain more readily abate?
What purpose does it serve that hurt extends,
Beyond initial scope of injury?
It may be to remind us once we mend,
The lesson of our own fragility.

4/13/11

Some artificial flowers on a table in a vase,

With nature’s semblance caught in cloth, time helpless to erase.

Its beauty trapped eternally and yet we must confess,

For all its loveliness unfading, still we love it less.

Is it the lacking fragrance?  No, sweet scents can be applied.

And clever crafting of synthetics clearly fools our eyes.

What is the flaw of frozen blooms which we cannot forgive?

The curse of that which never dies is that it never lived.

4/12/11

Another year of weighty taxes paid,

And what have we received in equal turn?

Can any of us claim we’re less afraid,

Of loosing comforts, arduously earned?

Has anything discernibly improved?

Is anyone informed or less misled?

Have legislative cancers been removed,

Or do they amplify when aptly fed.

What purpose serve these dues for which we’ve toiled,

To guard this manifold from breaking down?

What use is keeping mechanisms oiled,

When those who tend them leave the springs unwound?

4/11/11

As creatures sleep to bear the winter’s cold,

And gardens keep their seeds safe ‘neath the ground,

I too must be withdrawn and rest my soul.

Until relief of warmer days is found.

Inside a shallow, hollow place to stay,

Where no one shall go follow in my steps,

I’ll weather sorrow’s harrowing dismay,

‘Till I may know exposure from the nest.

When nature’s brutal scourge at last abates,

Perhaps I shall emerge to kinder fates.

4/10/11

To stand upon a precipice,

And be not too afraid to leap,

Is often seen as fearlessness;

To brave the cliff despite how steep.

But whether bravery or might,

Shall bring one fortune in effect,

Depends upon the ledge’s height,

And what is worn about the neck.

4/9/11

Our Saturdays are for the things we don’t get done all week.

We promise all procrastination will be put aside.

But so many distractions turn our streamlined aims oblique,

We must plan next week following to mitigate our pride.

And if next Sunday we should find that nothing’s been achieved,

We'll blame our inconveniences, and obligations met,

Pronouncing, manifestos, of our productivity,

Till all ambition turns to grief and, piecemeal, we forget.

4/8/11
Life shall go on because it must,
And we will wake to greet the day,
We will be strong because we must,
Despair stands not in time's fixed way.
We'll laugh again because we must,
And pleasures still shall be enjoyed,
We'll mourn our friends because we must,
For this as well, we can't avoid.
But life goes on because it must,
Despite our thinking it must end,
And it will go on after us,
When those who mourn us start again.

4/7/11

Cleaning the mud off one's shoes from a grave,
Would seem such a strange occupation to spend,
But what disturbs most in this manner behaved,
Is that they must track through the mud soon again.

4/6/11
A lawyers job is telling us what we already know,
But often lack the wherewithal of truth to comprehend.
And when a name for all our pains is capably composed,
We nod our heads at what is said and feign enlightenment.
The obvious unveiled at last for us to finally see,
And act upon these facts anon, once council is conveyed.
Perhaps the one surprise we realize would be the fee,
We must afford for being reassured when we're afraid.

4/5/11

Why does each new day blur into the next,

So we cannot recall with clarity?

Is this some way of blotting out regrets,

And granting ourselves safe serenity?

Is it some callous act of carelessness,

To let the moments fly by unobserved,

Or are we meant to taste forgetful bliss,

Regardless of remorse we might deserve?

I think perhaps we skew the passing time,

So it can be recalled in better light,

Revamped, and re-imagined in our minds,

To armor us against all future fight.

Perhaps the world is seen, and then dismissed,

To guarantee our courage to exist.

4/4/11

Dishonest men will always find a way,

To pilfer that which isn’t theirs to take,

Unless we keep their cunning plans at bay,

As they attempt to gain by our mistakes.

We must be vigilant of those who prey,

Upon our naïve vulnerabilities,.

We must be wary every waking day,

Lest we be victimized by such misdeeds.

And yet, there is what lurks in every mind,

That seeks to earn and then abuse our trust,

As often we will tell ourselves such lies.

And childlike, believe them as we must.

We let ourselves be fooled by fantasy,

And fabricate excuses for each ruse.

Perhaps, we should fear less those who deceive,

And guard against pickpockets of the truth.

4/3/11

In life, true bliss comes from the little things,
The simple pleasures, healing heart and mind.
It's curious despite the joys they bring,
How oft we don't allow them any time..

4/2/11

How quickly we congratulate ourselves,
When fate delivers us prosperity,
When lightning strikes us in the form of wealth,
When triumph shines by serendipity.

How easily we let ourselves grow proud,
Expressions of contentment, calm and smug.
When all is well, we praise ourselves aloud.
When all falls into rot, we blame our luck.

4/1/11
The great clairvoyant searched the crowd,
In search of supple minds to read.
His eyes intense with heavy brow,
Like bird of prey intent to feed.
He set on an expressive face,
And thus began to search her mind,
While all the crowd looked on amazed,
Her whole condition was described.
In stunning color and detail,
Each aspect of her life was touched,
Her loves, her losses, her betrayals,
Deep hopes and wishes, all discussed.
But what the grand magician knew,
Which most times we choose to forget,
Is every life and all we do,
Are more alike than separate.
All joy, all want, all loss and pain,
Which we may feel are not unique,
Each person's story is the same,
The tale retold each time we speak.
And so the charlatan's deceit,
Though quite corrupt, shall teach us this,
Our common similarities,
May hold the key to earthly bliss.

3/31/11
We must not gaze at foreign shores,
Afraid of waves which rage between,
Forever longing to have more,
Of vistas which we've not yet seen.
Instead we plunge into the cold,
And risk the cross of unknown depths,
To cast off fear, to venture bold,
And brave beyond our scope and breadth.
If all our perils are survived,
If somehow we prevail intact,
When landing on the other side,
We'll catch our breaths and glancing back,
From where we've come, we'll realize,
The distance was not much at all.
And yet, where we now stand, we'll find,
New oceans and far shores that call.

3/30/11

At times the only way to bear this life,

While wading through the depths of deep despair,

Is keeping busy and preoccupied,

And so exhausted we no longer care.

Our lethargy deflects.  Each drowse defends.

A tired mind, befuddled, numbs our fears.

Fatigue is suffering’s enduring friend,

For weary eyes sleep tight and shed no tears.

3/29/11

No matter how much we may try,

And strive to finish in one day,

A curse befalls us each sunrise,

To have one item slip away.

One task will fail to be complete,

And sit uncrossed-off from our lists,

Accomplishments, commitments, feats,

Among them, one thing will be missed.

It may be something we forgot,

Or else, some unseen circumstance,

That renders efforts all for naught, 

And thwarts our every move by chance.

Yet, life goes on despite demands.

And thrives oft times as aims fall through.

A note to mock all great laid plans,

Should top the list of our to-do’s.

3/28/11

We run ourselves into the ground,

Like inexpensive toys,

And when we finally do shut down,

We all get quite annoyed,

For like all things that we may waste,

And carelessly mistreat,

Our bodies, when they fail, shall break,

Beyond their warranties.

3/27/11

From time to time old friends are met,

And, through them, all our years betrayed.

The mirror, day to day, forgets,

But rare reunions reckon age.

The memories that we maintain,

Like dreams on waking, are dispelled.

When hearing how much life has changed,

No longer, can we fool ourselves.

Long friendships are a blessing, yes.

I pray that mine shall never end,

But, some small grief, I must confess,

For, no young man has lifelong friends.

3/26/11

Gazing up into a star filled dome,

Lost in the vastness of this endess sea,

Who’s speckled dark expanse sets minds to roam,

Among its clouds of luminosity,

To ponder our existence, so minute,

To wonder what significance we have,

And in this beauty lies such mortal truth,

The sight of it must be why men go mad.

3/25/11

Another week has reached it's end,
And brought it's scheduled reckoning,
To look back seven days again,  
And steep my soul in questioning.

What is the bounty of my toil,
Where have my steps and stumbles led,
How weighs my fortune with my foils,
Wherein is worth interpreted?

But what is this day from all else,
That marks it's dread significance?
Should I account all sense of self,
In spans that bear no relevance?

If time defines us, then perhaps,
I'll count this moment now, alone,     
My temporal assessments lapsed,
To greet next week,  peace in my soul.

3/24/11

What dormant seed inside of us,

Sprouts forth when we must speak?

Whose stifling, strong, constrictive vines,

Constrain us, mute and meek?

These grappling, saplings of the mind,

That smother forming words,

That thread our hearts and doubt entwined,

With thoughts that go unheard.

How diligent must be our skill,

To trim these web-like weeds,

To rend and rip, to strike and kill,

These creepers where they feed.

And yet, at times, in retrospect,

My clever comments lost,

Have kept my clumsiness in check,

And spared me precious cost.

And so, a gardener I must be,

To tend the wilds within,

With brush permitting gentle breeze,

But, blocking brutish winds.

3/23/11

A frost in Spring cuts short impatient growth,

Those buds which strive too ardently to be.

This chill conveys a warning to us both,

Lest we press our advance too eagerly.

And yet, my heart goes with those brazen plants,

Who rose ambitiously in Spring’s first light, 

Who broke new ground to rise and take their chance,

Their swift emergence stilled by chill and ice.

To know of nature is to be afraid,

For chaos is the hallmark she portends.

Though caution is consulted most our days,

We must dream past our winters now and then.

A frost in Spring reminds to seize the day,

To know the danger and bloom anyway.

3/22/11

I’d like to think the fact that we must wait,

Has purpose and exists by some design,

A pause penned by the architects of fate,

That keeps an ordered universe defined.

Perhaps, it teaches patience and respect,

Our reverence generated over time.

And maybe it dissuades us from neglect,

Lest we, unwary, leap and venture blind.

Could waiting truly be a random thing,

For does not our delay have some reward?

As wait abates the painful hornet’s sting,

Is not some method of prevention stored?

We earn our wings by each delay from flight,

Thus, boredom wets ambition’s appetite.

3/21/11

I write another poem,

To prove that I still can.

To show myself, if nothing else,

I meet this one demand.

Cause if I still am writing,

It must mean I’m still here,

This poetry is proof of me,

Albeit most unclear.