If We Listen

Tags

fantasy, love, personal, romance, spirit, spiritual

 

A wraith was writhing in the air,
its undulating shape so fair;
just like a woman slim and tall —
I followed with no fear at all.

Drifting, she led me through the trees
under branches, upon my knees,
until I found myself quite lost —
my folly gained, but at what cost?

I sat upon a log and thought
of this misfortune I had wrought —
from the mist, to my surprise,
a female form materialized.

A lithesome beauty, to be sure,
approached me with a gaze so pure.
I sat transfixed, afraid to move
expecting that this shape would prove,

perhaps, to be a daylight dream,
evanescent, not what it seemed —
a vision that would fade from sight
as quickly as a beam of light.

Yet, she remained and held my hand,
explained, so I could understand —
the holy earth is our Mother,
the deer and trees are our brothers.

Everyone shares a common root
though each produces different fruit.
Our Mother Earth gives birth to all —
the things that walk, fly, swim and crawl.

This planet is here for us to use
to grow our crops, not to abuse.
Winds and rains and things that glisten
each have stories if we listen.

 

 

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Prairie Crocus

Tags

Buddhism, Christianity, flowers, mystery, nature, personal, philosophy, spiritual

 

After the snow moves north
the prairie crocus,
native anemone,
ears of the earth
listens
for the rustle of summer.

Gently she sways
to moments of truth.
In her petals
the purple-blue mist
of far distant mountains;
a small golden sun
close to her heart.

Eternity
folds close around her,
warms her
from the cold winds
of spring.

…

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Vacant Homes

 

 

23 February 2011

Joy greeted me this morning, “Hi Sweetie, it’s good to see you. I’ve been sick lately due to this cold. The guy, who sometimes sleeps here, told me that he’s been staying at the Shepherds, but he finds it very rough and noisy. Still, I’m happy that he isn’t sleeping on the sidewalk. I stayed there once, but never again. It’s no place for a woman.”

When we finished our conversation she said, “Bye Sweetie.” It made me feel so good seeing her again, knowing that she was uninjured and relatively safe.

~~~

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Heaven’s Daughter

 

 

Sitting near the water weeping,
lonely maiden in deep despair.
Whippoorwills are snugly sleeping.
Willow weeping yet unaware.

Flowing gown of melancholia,
gentle goddess softly sobbing.
Moonlight mist and sweet magnolia,
tears like diamonds dripping, dropping.

In love’s embrace, friend and lover,
their cheating and their lies unveiled.
Double blow, she can’t recover;
her hopes and dreams at once curtailed.

Betrayed, dismayed, spirit shattered,
all is lost by cruel deception.
Without the one true love that mattered
death arose in her reflection.

Slowly walks into the water,
footprints soft upon the seashore.
Ripples radiate heaven’s daughter,
sorrow departs forevermore.

Sitting near the water weeping,
her lover mourns in deep despair.
His true love forever sleeping;
his only thought to join her there.

~~~

 

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Beneath the Cedars

 

I sit
beneath the cedars,
in solemn serenity.
Face red
with asking questions,
seeking answers
to the ways
of life and death —
molecules and atoms —
and how we’re all
connected.

 

My fingers
stiff, from cold —
a child’s stubby crayons —
make difficult the task
of turning pages,
jotting notes
about impermanence,
attachment
and letting go.

I’m surrounded
by spirits of seasons past.
I fear not —
they mean no harm.
Their faces radiate,
coming from the light.
In their eyes
I see peace and love —
they are free
of mortal suffering
they endured
in life.

 

They comfort me.
Grieve not, they say,
soon enough, you will join us.
You will experience the universe
and all it has to offer.
You still have much to learn.
When you are ready,
we’ll be waiting.

 

I feel the joy of life —
(maples sailing leaves
of red and yellow)
moments, lifetimes pass…
then they’re gone,
as they should be.

Beneath the cedars,
in their realm of wisdom,
reverently
I sit.

 

~~~

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Take It Off!

Tags

empowerment, eternal, lonely heart, longing, mystery

Hot lights,
hot music.
You’ve got it now
but, soon you’ll lose it.
Perfumed skin,
leather and lace,
long blonde hair,
an angel’s face

Slow touch,
slow smile,
make me want
to stay awhile.
Take it off!
Grant a guy an eyeful.
Lend me a dream
for the lonely night.

Tough life,
tough city,
take my money,
gotta make it pay.
Shake it slow,
take it easy.
Make it last
for another day.

Lonely crowds,
crowded minds.
I get my coat,
dreams left behind.
Leaving alone,
leaving empty.
Night is cold
when I feel this way.

~~~

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My Muse

Tags

compassion, emotion, empathy, empowerment, eternal, forever, kindness, longing, mystery, spirits, spiritual

“Untamed Muse” by Tom Kidd: A great depiction of my vision of a poet.

 

 

Sometimes, my words won’t come,
no matter what I try to write.
I softly call upon my muse,
entreat her
to visit me this night.

I feel her warmth within the room,
I’m instantly at ease.
I sense her reading my scribbles,
she knows my thoughts
and hears my longing pleas.

I feel her delicate fingers
upon my clumsy hand;
her words and phrases flood my mind,
things I’ve never seen before
from some far distant land.

I don’t know where she comes from,
(perhaps, from up above)
where ever it is
that she calls home,
she comes to me with love.

 

 

~~~

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New-mown Hay (1962)

Tags

deep emotion, first love, heavenly touch, longing, mystery, romance, sighs, sweet lips, true devotion, young love, your embrace

 
 

In memory is the scent of new-mown hay
wafted softly over moonlit, prairie fields.
Car audio music eased the tensions.
Fingers, hormones and pounding hearts collided.

CKOM Radio’s “Hi-Fi Club” with
“Digger” Dave Palmer spinning the platters
blasted over empty high school stadiums,
riverbank parking lots and secluded fields.

No past or future. There was only present.
Only that one unforgettable moment
forever etched indelibly in memory.
At the time, it seemed, a moment to die for.

Clumsy fingers fumbled with stubborn buttons.
Heaving breasts longed to be released at last.
Guilt, knowing that parents would be home waiting.
Excuses that begged for plausibility.

Many a romance was started or ended
to a favorite beat, harmony or chorus.
The first three bars still stimulate the passion
and bring the past thundering to the foreground.

Where are those unforgettable moments now?
Where are those raging hormones and pounding hearts?
I look back, over years of maturity
and long for the scent of warm, moist new-mown hay.

~~~

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The Lost Boys

Tags

Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, destiny, disabled, empowerment, illness, last rites, polio, spiritual, vigil

.

I was a young boy with a withered leg,
abandoned, in a cold hospital bed.
Faceless attendants wore gloves, masks and gowns.
No parents for cuddles, kisses or love.

Alone were the Lost Boys with polio,
the silent, unpredictable killer.
Quarantined, isolated like lepers,
our only strength came from one another.

Expected to die, we boys joined forces.
We supported each other, forming a bond.
After lights were turned out we would whisper
together, “Shush, the Sisters are coming.”

Older patients had access to wheelchairs.
Sometimes they’d transport me to other wards —
to meet other boys was high adventure.
An empty bed usually meant a death.

Seven decades since, in the still of the night,
after lights are out, I can sometimes hear
that haunting refrain I heard as a child,
whispered, “Shush, the Sisters are coming.”

 
 
Note: Polio was one of the most dreaded childhood diseases of the 20th century. By 1910, much of the world experienced a dramatic increase in polio cases and frequent epidemics became regular events, primarily in cities during the summer months which left thousands of children and adults paralyzed. The first polio vaccine was developed in 1952 by Jonas Salk and announced to the world on April 12, 1955 – Source: Wikipedia.
Image: http://www.immunize.org/photos/polio-photos.asp

~~~

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Chickadee

Tags

birds, Buddhism, compassion, empathy, empowerment, kindness, loving kindness, nature, personal, spiritual, unconditional love

 

It was a crisp, sunny
October afternoon
in the arboretum.
I was meditating.
My mittened hands
rested,
upturned on my thighs.

  

A chickadee hovered
in front of me.
Seeing a convenient perch,
it landed in my open palm,
then hopped upon my thumb.
She looked me up and down,
side to side.
Having seen
all there was to see,
she flew away.

  

She brought such joy,
this tiny feathered thing.
I valued her presence
as a gift of trust,
a gift of love,
a sign from nature
and the universe
that all was well.
  

 
Image: http://ow.ly/TL7MW

~~~

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Lioness in Heat

Tags

free, frustration, lions, lust, mating, mystery, nature, romance

I heard her
from a ways off,
the distinctive mewl
of a lioness in heat.
I licked my paws.

She’ll find me.

She found me,
paraded around
with her tail in the air,
leaving her scent
on the breeze.

I was interested
but didn’t show it.
She began licking me
I licked her back —
we licked a lot.

She crouched
belly to the ground,
tail to one side.
I bit her neck
then mounted.

This continued
for five exhausting days.
Eventually, she wandered off.
Perhaps, we’ll meet again,
or not.

~~~

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Silk Ropes

Tags

BDSM, bondage, domination, masochism, pain, punishment, sex games, spanked, submission, tied, whipped

 

Black silk ropes
tied to bedposts
secure her white wrists
and ankles.

 

Voluntarily
under his control
she wants, needs
to be dominated,
spanked, whipped
by the one man
to whom
she will submit.

 

~~~

 

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There Are No Horses Anymore

Tags

animals, compassion, despair, desperation, destiny, dreams, emotion, empathy, eternal, fantasy, fear, forever, free, imagination, lifetimes, longing, loving kindness, mystery, personal, philosophy, spiritual, unconditional love, universe

 

 

 

It’s like you’ve been reading Dostoevsky
and your mind is heavy,
so you go for a walk.
You haven’t eaten,
but instead of soup,
you order two glasses of beer.
You know how Rodion felt,
because you’re him.
You walk into the street
and a dark horse is being beaten,
but, that can’t be,
because there are no horses anymore —

that was only a dream;
only in the book.
You think you’re going mad,
but, it’s alright,
you don’t have to worry.
Someone has just closed the cover —
you’re tucked away, safe inside.
Everything is alright.

~~~

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Morning Star

Tags

compassion, destiny, dreams, eternal, fantasy, imagination, lifetimes, love, mystery, romance, sighs

 

Morning Star, Evening Star
North guides the sailors
count us our blessings
long into the night

weave me a blanket
made out of moments
dreams of discovery
adventures now past

will me, be still me
arms be my cradle
comfort and kindness
within your caress

sing me forever
that place far away
close as a heartbeat
our home where we’ll stay

~~~

 

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Careful With That Axe, Eugene

Tags

Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, despair, desperation, emotion, empathy, loving kindness, mental health, music, mystery

 

Eugene had a mind of his own,
not, as some would say, a sound mind,
but his own mind, nevertheless.

“It’s awfully considerate of you
to think of me here.
And I’m most obliged to you
for making it clear
that I’m not here.”

Eugene was a great musician,
taking music to the limit;
his songs will always survive.
Eugene took drugs to the limit;
he’s now in Interstellar Overdrive.

When we observed him with an axe,
you may understand our concern.
Was he in danger, or were we?

Eugene had already left us in spirit,
but he wandered away that day
and was lost to us forever.

~~~

 

This poem is dedicated to the memory of “Syd Barrett (born Roger Keith Barrett; 6 January 1946 – 7 July 2006) who was an English singer, songwriter, guitarist and artist. He is most remembered as a founding member of  band Pink Floyd, providing major musical and stylistic direction in their early work, although he left the group in 1968 amidst speculations of mental illness exacerbated by heavy drug use.”

Axe is also British slang for guitar. Pink Floyd’s use of the title Careful With That Axe, Eugene may refer to “Barrett’s behavior (which) became increasingly unpredictable, partly as a consequence of frequent experimentation with psychedelic drugs such as LSD. Many report having seen him on stage with the group, strumming on one chord through the entire concert, or not playing at all. At a show at The Fillmore West in San Francisco, during a performance of “Interstellar Overdrive”, Barrett slowly detuned his guitar. The audience seemed to enjoy such antics, unaware of the rest of the band’s consternation.” (Source: Wikipedia)

~~~

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unobserved

Tags

dreams, erotic, fantasy, free, imagination, longing, mystery, nature, romance, sighs, spells

 

unobserved
i gaze upon you
lost in the world of a book.
i wonder which poet,
which author
holds your wrapt attention
to the exclusion
of all else.

 

Is it Burroughs?
Aristophanes?
or is it lighter reading,
a novel perhaps?
erotic historical romance?
i could ask you
but hesitate
to break their spell.

 

…

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borderlands

Tags

Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, destiny, free, homeless, imagination, love, philosophy, psychology, romance

i live in the borderlands,
between reality and imagination,
just this side of fantasy.

 

reality is okay.
i visit there
to check my mail,
earn a few dollars,
pay some bills,
buy groceries.

 

reality is an okay place to visit
but, i wouldn’t want to live there.

 

i’m happiest in my mind
where I filter my thoughts
like an answering machine.
i delete the negative,
dwell on the positive.

 

people may see me walking alone.
they don’t see the beautiful woman
at my side
with her hand in mine.

 

i may be seen sitting at a table, alone.
nobody sees the delicate hand,
with the magic fingers,
sliding up my thigh.

 

or, the passionate kiss
being planted on my throat,
the fingers running through my hair.

 

where i work
people see me smile.
they think I enjoy my job.
they don’t know me.

…

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Fairies

Tags

dreams, eternal, fairies, fantasy, folk tales, lifetimes, love, mystery, nature, romance, spirits

 

If you wander into the woods
stealthily peek behind the trees.
Fairies may be in hiding there;
they’ll vanish, quick as you please.

The fairies are a friendly folk,
at least, they may appear that way.
They’ll lure you with their fairy wiles;
siren-like, they’ll lead you astray.

Timid, beautiful woodland nymphs
swathed in soft diaphanous gowns.
In subtle shades of nature’s hues
bright leafy greens and somber browns.

Whispers in the rustle of leaves
will lead you to their secret glade.
They’ll gently soothe away your cares.
Why would you need to be afraid?

Fairy maids will wine and dine you.
They’ll whisper that they love you so.
You’ll think that you’re in paradise.
They’ll never, ever let you go.

Weeks and months will pass unnoticed.
What seems a day maybe a year.
The world outside continues on,
while you remain in limbo here.

Fairy mists will envelop you
so you can never see your way.
Memories are, but long lost dreams.
From Fairyland you cannot stray.

…

Image: http://ow.ly/U5zcU

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Fireplace

Tags

dreams, emotion, eternal, fantasy, forever, lifetimes, longing, love, personal, romance, sighs

I’ll put a fresh log in the fireplace
if you’ll pour us a glass of wine.
We’ll relax on overstuffed pillows,
smell the scent of burning pine.

Leave stress and hurry behind us.
It’s the time to let worries lie.
We’ll watch the constellations
appear in the darkening sky.

Magic, your eyes by the firelight.
Warm, your smile as you hold my hand.
Tell me your grandmother’s stories
of a nearby but distant land.

We communicate in silence,
My reflection is in your eyes.
Soft and gentle, your fingers.
Delightful, the sound of your sighs.

Stories of us to remember,
our stars melting gently above.
Never before have I felt such joy
as our presence together in love.

…

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borderlands

Tags

Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, destiny, free, homeless, imagination, love, philosophy, psychology, romance

i live in the borderlands,
between reality and imagination,
just this side of fantasy.

reality is okay.
i visit there
to check my mail,
earn a few dollars,
pay some bills,
buy groceries.

reality is an okay place to visit
but, i wouldn’t want to live there.

i’m happiest in my mind
where I filter my thoughts
like an answering machine.
i delete the negative,
dwell on the positive.

people may see me walking alone.
they don’t see the beautiful woman
at my side
with her hand in mine.

i may be seen sitting at a table, alone.
nobody sees the delicate hand,
with the magic fingers,
sliding up my thigh.

or, the passionate kiss
being planted on my throat,
the fingers running through my hair.

where i work
people see me smile.
they think I enjoy my job.
they don’t know me.

 

…

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Gotta Find a Home: Conversations with Street People
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Concrete Box

Tags

blues, dreams, entertainment, fantasy, free, imagination, longing, love, music, mystery, universe

 

I work in a corporate, concrete box;
no windows, only a computer terminal
to link me to the outside world.
Only second-hand accounts
of weather, traffic,
whether it is day or night.

I sometimes go to work in darkness,
return in darkness.
I don’t know if the sun
remembered to rise at all.
Like the light in a refrigerator.
Does it really turn off
when I close the door?

At a keyboard, my fingers type numbers,
millions of numbers.
My mind wanders woodland paths.
I watch birds flitting from limb to limb,
chipmunks scurrying, stopping,
looking around, then scurrying again.

My mind plays tricks on me.
I imagine that just 26 floors down
I could exit on Beale or Bourbon Street.
Hear sounds of the South,
guitars, saxophones and raspy voices
that rule the rhythm of my body and soul.

Take me on a blues ride.
Let me wander with the lyrics
down Highway 61, “The Blues Highway”.
Let me smell the sweat and the booze,
the jostling at the bar,
the waitress who will smile for a tip.

Let me smell magnolia, bougainvillea,
where Spanish moss hangs below the branches,
see the darkest eyes and brightest smile,
hear that special whisper, “Come with me.”
We’ll walk for miles, be holding hands,
and never want for any more
than our window to a dream.

…

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Image: http://www.neworleans.com/nightlife/bourbon-heat/

Tennessee Honey

Tags

destiny, dreams, emotion, fantasy, imagination, longing, love, lust, mystery, romance, sighs

 

Thoughts drift south,
Jack Daniel’s country
where the weather
suits my mood.

On a barstool
I park my bones
Inhale the Jack, magnolia–
sweet, sweet surrender.

A woman alone
at a corner table–
darkest eyes,
brightest smile,
auburn hair
to her shoulders.

I think, Why not?
Our eyes meet,
I saunter towards her
and know, from the look she gives,
she’s heard it all before.

“Ma’am, It would give me
the greatest pleasure
to buy you a drink
and share your table for a while.
If I can’t keep you smilin’
I promise,
I’ll take my conversation elsewhere.”

She said with the utmost
southern grace, charm
and hospitality,
“You’ve got ten minutes.
I don’t like to be disappointed.”

I fell into her raven pools,
somewhere, I got lost there.
I don’t know my way too well
around these parts
but, I’d swear she lured me
with some kind of mojo.

My eyes refused to look away
from ruby lips (so sensual)
as they spoke words of love
in a voice
of the sweetest, southern honey,
words…dripping…
tantalizing.

The evening passed,
holding hands across the table.
I was enthralled and enchanted.
Where it went from there
I refuse to say
(gentleman’s code of honor).

Such beauty
I have never known.
It keeps coming back
to haunt me.

My thoughts
were only passing through
but, in my dreams I see
the darkest eyes,
brightest smile,
hear her voice–
Tennessee honey.

…

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The Silver Fox

Tags

alcoholism, Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, despair, desperation, emotion, fear, homeless, loneliness, longing

 

Slouching
in forgotten tap-rooms
dirty old men,
forgotten old men,
slop piss-colored beer
from, wet, dripping glasses.
The hollow din,
the retelling of “the good old days”,
echoes sadly
as life quickly passes.

“They used to call me ‘The Silver Fox’
What do you think of that?
They used to care.”

An empty glass crashes
to the muddy floor.

“I guess I’ll be hitting the street tonight.
Sleep in an alley tonight.
Nobody cares.”

Slouching
in forgotten tap-rooms
dirty old men,
forgotten old men,
slop piss-colored beer.
Nobody cares….

 

Image: http://ow.ly/RNSi3

…

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Gotta Find a Home: Conversations with Street People
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First Kiss

Tags

dreams, emotion, empowerment, free, imagination, longing, love, mystery, personal, romance, sighs

 

 

my first kiss
so long ago
(not yet in high school)
in the back seat of a ’51 Ford
at a drive-in theatre.
I’ll remember ’till I die
my nervousness,
perspiration,
her perfume
(Tigress by Faberge)
her warmth,
angora sweater set
(pastel yellow —
no buttons
to hinder progress)
the sweetness of her kiss.
She knew much more than I
about such things

another world
had opened to me
desire and heartache
go together —
there’s seldom one
without the other
but, would we want it
any other way?
would we want
a safe, yet loveless life
without the up
without the down?
or, take the ecstasy
and risk our hearts
being trampled
to the ground

…

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Gotta Find a Home: Conversations with Street People
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.

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Beach Girl

Beach girl
silhouetted
against the horizon.
Wild hair fluttering
flag of the evening breeze.

I sit
admiring
this distant beauty.
Heartfelt rhapsody
engulfed by remorseless night.

I see
small footprints
in the moist sand.
I know them as yours.
Would that I could take them home.

…

Sample my books for free — To date, $1945.00 has been donated to the homeless:
Gotta Find a Home: Conversations with Street People
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Frost

 

a dove sits on a snowy bough,
her song cuts through my heart.
we both know how the lonely feels
when love is torn apart.

there never was an emptiness
the way i feel inside.
the ache is deep within my chest,
i have no place to hide.

was once a time my heart was full
when spring was in the air,
but Frost has draped me with her cloak,
my tears fall in despair.

the midnight train is leaving soon.
my bags are packed to go.
i shiver on the platform bare,
a spectre, slinking low.

…

Sample my books for free — To date $1995.00 has been donated to the homeless:
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when buffalo roamed

• 

I pray
there is a place
beyond the pain
where we will rise
in purity
above the cedars.

look down
our hearts have claimed
a rock ledge
to escape the rain,
a cathedral
among ancient pines.

stories
your grandma told
of a past
when buffalo roamed —
we were there,
we are still there
using different names.

…

Sample my books for free — To date $1995.00 has been donated to the homeless:
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Wild Rose

 

Her sweet breath fell warm and soft
like a gentle prairie breeze
wafting the scent of wild rose,
delicate, but mostly wild.

Her mane, red and dangerous,
sometimes concealed then revealed
chameleon-like features,
an emotional rainbow.

Her full lips would pout or smile
like a sudden summer storm —
thunder, lightning then sunshine,
frighteningly beautiful.

Temperament like a mustang,
skittish, demanding patience,
or she would bolt for the wild.
Gentleness would subdue her.

For a while she could be held,
raging passion directed,
hunger could be satisfied
briefly, then she would be gone.

I would not hope to contain
or to harness the wildness.
For me she will always be
my sweet, delicate, Wild Rose.

…

Sample my books for free — To date $1945.00 has been donated to the homeless:
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New-mown Hay

Tags

deep emotion, first love, heavenly touch, longing, mystery, romance, sighs, sweet lips, true devotion, young love, your embrace

 
In memory is the scent of new-mown hay
wafted softly over moonlit, prairie fields.
Car audio music eased the tensions.
Fingers, hormones and pounding hearts collided.

CKOM Radio’s “Hi-Fi Club” with
“Digger” Dave Palmer spinning the platters
blasted over empty high school stadiums,
riverbank parking lots and secluded fields.

No past or future. There was only present.
Only that one unforgettable moment
forever etched indelibly in memory.
At the time, it seemed, a moment to die for.

Clumsy fingers fumbled with stubborn buttons.
Heaving breasts longed to be released at last.
Guilt, knowing that parents would be home waiting.
Excuses that begged for plausibility.

Many a romance was started or ended
to a favorite beat, harmony or chorus.
The first three bars still stimulate the passion
and bring the past thundering to the foreground.

Where are those unforgettable moments now?
Where are those raging hormones and pounding hearts?
I look back, over years of maturity
and long for the scent of warm, moist new-mown hay.

…

Sample my books for free — To date $1945.00 has been donated to the homeless:
Gotta Find a Home: Conversations with Street People
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whisper and moan

Tags

alcoholism, compassion, death, despair, desperation, emotion, empathy, eternal, loneliness, longing, lost love

 

troubled blues with feeling
may ease my tortured mind;
free me from the clutches
of those I left behind.

these dirty hobo rags
hang on a wasted frame,
haunted by the memory
and rhythm of your name.

walking through this alley
shrouded, dark with death.
evil deeds will haunt me,
until my final breath.

craving me some whisky,
a friendly word and smile.
you can spend my money,
just stay a little while.

booze, it clouds my thinking.
your face is just a blur……
few more drinks together
i may think you are her.

guitar strings, whining steel,
a whisper and a moan.
use me and abuse me;
don’t leave me here alone.

…

Sample my books for free — To date $1945.00 has been donated to the homeless:
Gotta Find a Home: Conversations with Street People
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