Category Archives: Poetry

About love

I don’t want to write about love.
Because it seems to go only two ways.
Either the heart is broken
or you’ve found your everything.

A twist in fate or
a “how it should always be.”

There are other kinds of love,
I know,
but this one gets most of the stories told.
I think it’s because people crave it the most.

Maybe I shouldn’t focus on the beginning or end.
But the in between.
The real center of
how it was and came to be.

That’s where you find the labor,
the heart of the binding and intertwining.
Where everyone wants to be.
That milky world of planning futures and learning
how each other see.

But then,
even the middle will split like a rotted tree.
So many paths could a relationship go,
but in the core of it,
though complicated,
there is still only one of two ways that unfold.

Together or alone.

Mountaintops

At the summit
we have only boulders
to bear witness
to our gain.

The upwards march
of a silent cadence
through the trees
now below us
like the cities before.

The wind has strengthened.
Clouds move fast
and though we are closer,
the sky still stretches
beyond the horizon.

Our bodies are tired
yet resilient
such a natural place of rest.
The worry of tomorrow
seems so distant
when the world
is laid out before you.

Good Boy

There you sit on the deck,
paws so elegantly crossed.
Head held high,
observing your lot.
The breeze brings a scent
that distracts you
for but a second.
Ears perked tall,
the sound of a door
closing in the hall.
But funny you missed
the squirrel on the fence.
The warm sun
was just too much,
as your snout tipped down
and sweet sleep you found.

Paths

The forest is full of green,
dripping with the dew of spring.

Wildflowers open to the sun.
To such beauty, you cannot be numb.

Birds chatter and then sing
songs about the seasons changing.

Though the path through is narrow
the world around appears so wide.
Ever stretching beyond my vision
into the far depths of the mind.

Helen’s

The twang of strings
echo all around the yard.
Cousins are playing over there
in the sheltered garage.

The chairs have been set out.
Wooden, iron, and folding.
Mismatched but jovial
like the family they are holding.

We run along the porch
barefoot with dirty grins.
The summer nights are long
and the planks below us have become
the deck of our pirate ship.

There’s a tower out in the woods
that the older kids climb.
They yell at us from above
smiling and hiding their smokes
like it’s a crime.

Food on the table’s gone cold
but nobody cares.
Desserts all ready gone
even the dogs got their share.

Harmonies meld on the wind.
Dancing has started on the gravel floor.
Laughter and love shared by all,
a piece of the family core.

Silence

With silence it kills
the routine and comfort.
Fear has grown to its strongest hold.
Do you look forward to another day,
empty and silent?

As we hide,
time and limits play our minds.
Another era is left behind,
the unprecedented rises.

With it comes forced change,
death of old ideals,
preservation of false security,
and the birth of another reality.

It is in dark times
when we can be at our the weakest.
Do not forget the freedom
that was once yours.

Bent River

When the moonlight peaks over
those softly swaying cottonwood trees,
you’ll find me by the river
dancing to the rushing water’s beat.

Cool air drifts into the valley,
driving away the summer’s heat.
Barefooted, young, and naive,
no one could ever make us leave.

With the comfort of the river,
we share our happiness and grief.
Weaving tales that become legends,
the things of old, the things we keep.

It’s there that I found my first kiss.
Moonlight dazzled and drunk on the night,
she was more than beautiful;
my friends say I was just a lucky guy.

When people hear that water humming,
they begin to relax about their day.
Laughing and sharing with one another,
fear and worry is easily washed away.

I learned secrets not yet forgotten.
Heard things I can’t repeat.
I will never forget those nights
and everything they mean to me.

When the moonlight peaks over
those softly swaying cottonwood trees,
you’ll find me by the river
dancing to the rushing water’s beat.

The Light Around Me

The light around me has grown dull.
It’s brightness keeled
and the sharpness blurred
to edges black.

Understand that the sun
is still high above.
This gloom is just a setting
projected from myself.

It shapes the world I see.
Experiences curtailed.
Faces lost.
Misplaced fears.
Diving emotions.

I am blind to the periphery.