Wayne Cook--BMI Songwriter, Freelance Photographer, Composer, Poet

Ideas

2009-06-25T11:37:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, I had an idea. Not a great one, but an idea that I would do something to prepare myself for a longer term task. I would pack my things in advance of a departure.
I found a fairly large suitcase, which would accommodate the materials I needed for this voyage of sorts. Clothing, Camera, personal items, and some electronic gizmos. After all, part of my work in life, has been to document moments. Aural and visual.

So I packed. From a faulty memory. Once again, I’d left out several items that I would need. This time it was a book for writing my poetry, my journal, my lyric book. Those sheets of paper bound together that comprise my closer held existence within its covers. And I forgot to pack my vitamins. My idea was pretty good. Prepare. My ability to store the details of that idea, were not so good. It had a mental form, but not anywhere near the substance I needed, to make it work to completion. What it lacked, was a written outline.

Ideas are like candy, sweets, as it were, without substance in fact. You can formulate an idea and it will become concrete in your mind, and perhaps your companion’s mind, but it remains a picture, without substance. Some people can create an idea so strongly, that people around them will see and feel the object, as if it WERE real, that is the domain of the mind, only.

How can this be? How can one person, relate an idea to another, and it is so powerful, that the ears of the receiver, transform that idea into a real, living, often vibrating with vitality, object? Some people are so filled with ideas, that they overflow onto other people, and once in a while, one of those people will connect with them or their ideas and go on to create those ideas.

First let’s ask, where these or any ideas, come from?

Secondly, what makes an idea seem real?

Thirdly, at what point does an idea become a solid bit of creation in your mind, so that the nails, and plastic and wood of that idea, are the next logical step?

Ideas, in their purest form, come from a fertile and creative mind….like a farmer’s field, that has good dark, brown loam in it, a mind draws upon the nutrients of its soil to grow things. Some are weeds, which grow quickly, but are of no use in a production or harvest, and others….those that bring forth fruit.

The fruit are, or is, as it were, useful in our careers, our hobbies, or even help other people. Some people have so many ideas, that their minds seem to hold rapid and concurrent multiple conversations. They can think outside the box as if it were the norm. And they tend to seek artistic forms of employment. A mind that is the milk and meat of existence, provokes both support and opposition, oft-times to the same idea, from vastly different people and perspectives. But creative and original minds find not only good in objects that the rest of us pass by, but good in people that we also pass. One person’s handicap, is another’s specialty. A man born without arms, learns to play the guitar with his feet, and plays one day for a world leader. His drawback became his primary creative force. All he needed was the idea and incipient desire to succeed. He created, within the mind, the world that he needed to make his plan work. And it did.

Our minds do generate the worlds in which our ideas would flourish. We create, not only the idea, but dozens of them simultaneously, surrounding the original seed with the soil it needs to grow. It seems real, because we built a world, a cosmos to sustain it.

Your idea, my idea, may well be bits and figments of our own imaginations, and only exist in the virtual world, so much like Second Life…and simply die the death of forgetfulness, to be replaced by another seed. But then, once in a while, one of those ideas, becomes a macrocosm, a single flame, germinating. When and why does this happen?

Each of us sees merit to one idea or another, a big picture view. We see that idea in terms of the materials available to build it. And sometimes, materials that don’t exist. A bridge, a museum, concert hall. A beautiful car, violin, guitar, a wheelchair for a marathon, a cure for breast cancer. We take that idea and begin to dig out the pieces of puzzle that will construct that idea into being, and the world in which it will collect meaning, and that seed, that cosmos, begins to take form.

Other people now see it. It is not necessary for anyone but you, to believe in that idea. But you have to be willing, cognizant of the great obstacles you must surmount, if your idea is to come to reality, to endure, ridicule, hard examination, and mountains of obstacles. Prototypical or mass produced, you idea must capture the imagination you have, from others, for its future to have a chance.

It it were not for ideas, we would not have light at the darkest hours, transportation at supersonic speeds, delicacies from around the world, nor the keyboard, on which I so effortlessly type this essay. Ideas have been the backbone of progress for the last 7,000 years of recorded history. If we are to succeed in the coming years, ideas must flow freely, without constraint, or we will regress as we have in times past. The destruction of the library of Alexandria and other more recent suppression of men’s thoughts are highly recognized examples. Ideas, however foreign to our way of thinking, are necessary to balance one side or the other on an intellectual playing field. Time has a way of even-ing things out, so that ideas that have merit, will get to the surface, and become part of history. Part of our lives, useful and productive.

Language

2009-06-25T11:36:00.000-05:00

For some thirty five years, a portion of my life has been linked to, and a practice of, foreign languages. From 1966, when my family first attended the University of Oklahoma, sleeping in antiquated dorms, cooled only with fans, to this day, I have been a part of a group, that studied language as means of relating between humans.

The study of language, is so complex, that I have met linguists who have worked on one language group for most of their lives. We think of objects like sheep and thread to be so common that we don’t give the definition of either, a second thought. For the Mayaruna Indians in the Amazon Basin, however, the sheep was as foreign as the car, before 1975 or so. To zero in on this group, the Mayarunas are a small tribe of indigenous people to the Amazon for at least 500 years. Before that, history is both ambiguous and unknown.

Linguists look for patterns in language, as well as parallel patterns between the languages, to try to find points of commonality, sometimes to provide links between language groups, sometimes to establish historical points, other times to get meanings to words and phrases.

One phrase the Mayaruna’s had, was a lengthy description for a picture of a sheep. The word or rather phrase, was nearly 30 seconds long and went something like this…”the animal which has four legs, two ears, a nose, an eye, perhaps two, a small tail, is rather simple minded, and has a lot of curly hair, which can be the color of the clouds or the corn when it is ready for harvest” That…was a sheep to a Mayaruna, until at least 1975.

Even amongst technologically adept languages, there is disparity in meaning because of where the language is spoken and how life progressed in that geography. Even adjacent countries have developed different words for the same thing. Lift for elevator, lorrie for truck, Truck for camio’n, then camion in Spanish, to camion in French, and camion in Spanish to caminhao in Portuguese. There are even differences in European Portuguese compared to Brazilian Portuguese, just as American English differs from British English.

Conceptually, the gap widens, when one attempts to describe scenes that are common to one region and foreign to another, even in the same country and language. Language is so intricate and complex, that the people who study it, are mostly bald! Ok, I exaggerated that one. I remember seeing linguists working into the early morning hours on translations of school materials and parts of the Bible to one of these remote languages.

New Guinea, with all of it’s islands and isolation, is divided into language families, because the count of distinct languages, is in the hundreds. http://www.ethnologue.com/show_map.asp?name=pg

The problem for linguist in any place, be the scientist English, French or Korean, is that each of the mother tongues of the translators, is also at a comparative disadvantage against its sister language.

Language is only pure to the group that bore it to life. For anyone who comes in from the outside, language translation, is an approximation of definition. Words in one language have a regional meaning that is different from any other region in the whole world.

Yes, in English, means different things in the US, whether you are on a farm, or in a city. A farmer with say yes to a banker who loans him money and asks for a promise to pay it back. The farmer says yes and means, ‘I will promise to pay you all this money and the interest, so help me God”. The City person will ask for a contract, because he doesn’t trust the banker, not to over charge him, and the banker will ask for a contract, so that if the borrower lapses on a payment, the banker has recourse to get some value out of the city person for that money he loaned.

Language and it’s use, is a mighty tool. A precious jewel, and a gift for all reasons.
God may well have done us both a favor and cursed us, when He divided us in to language groups at the ancient tower of Babel. I dare say it was a good thing, because it has caused nations to work hard, not only at understanding each other, but to explore the universe and give us meaning to life.

Thank God for language! It is a far better thing I do, to speak with humility, than to grunt in greed.

Community

2009-06-25T11:25:00.003-05:00

Community

The way I title this, does not reflect so much on a group of friends so much as a group of people. I included this shot from my visit to Stonehenge recently, to illustrate the point. Stonehenge is one of the oldest momunents to commumity and unity in the world. Shrouded in symbolism and history, before the dawn of writing, Stonhenge provided a link to our past, which is so far distant from our present, that we will study it for many years to come, in order to find out the extent of this community's unity, purpose, and....perhaps why they are no more....

One can have a sense of community right here on I Thank You. A powerful sense of friendship and affection exists here. As I contemplated who this might be about, and the profound sense of thanks I have for what I have experienced in the last month, several things, several ideas, and an overarching principle began to take shape in my mind. There are patterns of principles which stay true through out the history of man, and those which come and go, based on the applicability to a time, space and culture.

Community is an enduring idea, from which several branches of philosophy have sprung, including schools of governing, organizational togetherness, symbology, language, and lines of thinking, even cultural cohesivity. There is a bedrock of commanlity throughout the history of all mankind, which provided the impetus and framework for community for thousands of years. It could be slavery, or the advancement of civilization, two opposites, which demonstrate the importance of the idea of unity in community, if not the commonness of either idea, or any between those two extremes. Community is, if dissected to it’s base components, a unity of perspective, thought, and purpose, between two or more individuals….most likely, in a larger group, as the two individuals, perhaps long ago in history, sold the ideas they had to others, who nodded in agreement and joined minds.

And that is the premise of what I am going to present today. The internet, is a vast diverse, and huge community. But even though the feeling is strong between members of various Internet communities, it is not what I am driving toward or proposing. And there are now thousands of them. People who would love to live near each other, spend time together and enjoy the presence of each other. Internet communities have largely replaced the physical communities of our towns and neighborhoods. And that is the community I want to address.

I recently had the extreme privilege of an extended trip to Lisbon, Portugal and then on to Newbury England. What I learned, observed and participated in, brought to my scope of learning, a principle that I shall not forget. The people who taught me about this, were perhaps not seeing themselves at teachers, for we all enjoyed other activities, such as parties, photography, laughter, and even tears. But the deeper sense of fellowship I enjoyed, came as a further blessing, that spun off the original intent of my visit. That was merely to meet the people who have enriched my life over the last year or two, and to get training, in England on some specialized equipment. But to a mind that constantly inquires, is never satisfied with the learning I have, I was and am in perpetual and sometimes agonizing pursuit of knowledge.

Community. There is a general disintegration throughout the world, of a SENSE of community in our neighborhoods, towns and cities, which is gradually pulling us apart as a world of people, most of whom have the same or very similar goals. Improving life for our families. There is more, depending on the strata of life you work and play in, and the mind that you posses to drive your thoughts. Each of us longs for communication, further than the keyboards we use to type emails. But the indescribable friendships that develop between members of this world community, are only possible because the souls of the people long for more than a lifetime of internet chat. A handshake, a hug, kisses to the cheeks. Meals together, face to face conversation, laughter in dining rooms, time spent looking at photographs together. This is the stuff of not only friendship, but community.

I sat down two weeks ago, with two friends from Newbury, at a local pub, over a Shandy. The conversation that ensued, showed me the trend that I observed in the two cities I traveled through.

Pubs in England have existed for hundreds of years. Used to be, they were for men only. The rise and fall of economic times, the passage of life, politics, and work, all flowed through the pubs. Men would gather there, across the English Commonwealth, to discuss and partake. About a generation ago…a change took place that nearly destroyed the central meeting place of these men. The economy took such a down turn, that pubs which had been open since the 1500’s, were starting to close. What the towns and villages around them did, to bring on a change, to revive that ancient system of gathering, was to open the pub to the families. What this meant, was that the former men only gatherings were now open to children and wives as well.

I watched for 3 and a half weeks, through many visits to pubs all over the area around Newbury, of the interaction between people of all ages, young to old, women to men, families with each other. What I observed, made a profound impression on me. The policy of opening a pub to the family unit, drew the community, the villages, the towns, the cities, together. The neighborhood was gathering.

I noticed the same phenomena in Lisbon, London, and it appears to be happening in other European cities as well…each with its own cultural version of community. Lunch meetings, regular assembly of local organizations around food.

A sense of community is a powerful way to bring support to the individuals of that neighborhood. In a very real and palpable sense, it is a philosophical watershed. Whatever the group that homogenizes around a table, a meal, a common interest or panoply of symbols, community is a return to the ancient idea that people together, means that a village, an organization, a town, will stick together. Cohesive in friendship, philosophy.

A sense of community is a powerful weapon of unity to a town. It brings many types of strength to that geographical location. Emotional, mental, political, physical. There is a power in unity that cannot be gained in any other way….

As I compare what I observe here in the US, to the communities surrounding Lisbon, Newbury, I hope that more people throughout the world begin to think about community as a WAY OF LIFE. Perhaps the paradigm has forever changed and we are bound by love and friendship through the internet. I have deep friendships through this medium. However, there is no substitute for a shared walk down a street, conversation across a supper table. No….community has taken on many wonderful forms, but let us not forget the groups that are around us…my neighbor, Otis, our new widow, and old, old friend Betty down the street, Orlando next door….The guys at our local Freemason’s lodge.

This site teaches us much about God, philosophy, friendship, love, and each other. Let us not forget the community in our towns. If we are to make positive change in our world, and I guarantee change comes, whether you like it or not, our proactive stance, our personal philosophy must be to effect change that will grow our communities, not disintegrate them. We must come together, to promote a world of peace, my dear friends.

It starts with you and me, and you, and you….and you.

Thank you so much, if you have endured and read this.

Philosophy Can Wait One More Day

2009-06-25T11:19:00.001-05:00

Sometimes, the mere presence of thought, like quivering Jello, causes you to wonder if you've arrived at some state of genius when all that really transpired was the caffiene from your coffee is making its way through your arteries.

Something of an intellectual rise in blood pressure, with a concurrent jolt to the nervous system. You are relieved this morning, because the alternative would be facing another day with bloodshot eyes. That realization that, upon looking in the unforgiving mirror, you are having a bad hair day. Somewhere in the restless night, you lay up on a lock of hairstrands and make a natural curl. It is cute, but in the wrong spot, so you hold it down with a brush and spray "product" on it. Ahhhh, that's better.

Now discontent with the clock, you hurry through dressing, absentmindedly pulling a polo from the closet, a pair of jeans from the stack and hurredly pull them on. Oh, gosh. I think I gained 5 pounds from partying this weekend. I thought you could only gain that much in two weeks! Gracious! And I was going to be so svelte today at work! Inwardly, you snarl at youself. It's payback time!

Facing the front door with less than satisfaction with your appearance, body, and thoughts, you turn the knob, sigh, and head for the car. So far, not one worthy shred of philosophy has escaped your infertile soul, not one redeeming sigh has wormed its way to your brain. Even a crumb of unsorted letters would be a help right now. You could pretend to catalog your idea, approach it from several perspectives and further pretend to segment, analyze, tag and hypothesize this bit of linguistic doggerel into SOMETHING!

Monday, Monday. Am I even following the mantras of my own making, much less the reading I enjoyed Friday night in that lovely book? Today, following my angelic passage through a weekend of hedonistic pursuit of foods and laughter for my grandkids, I am burrowing through the mud of a barbequed and simmered aftermath. I took it to the limits, one more time!

I practiced a philosophy of Live for the moment and am now Suffering for the moment! I would not change the philosophy, just the excess. It appears that over the past week, I've indulged several spin-offs of my proscribed and essayed world. As I faced myself during this introspection, I discovered one other thing. I practice, if not enjoy, exfoliating something of my spirit within the safe confines of this group, this family. I leveraged one thing. Trust...here amongst the brothers and sisters of our community.

You now know. I ate too much! But it was sooooo good, and my granddaughters make me laugh and smile with their shy and sweet comments. A lovely weekend with not yet corrupted grandchildren. There will be time later to lament their behavior. For now, I love the wee tykes.

Philosophy can wait one more day :)

Azoia

2009-06-25T11:18:00.001-05:00

The Rhythm of the Planet

2008-12-31T09:49:00.000-06:00

It was an earth, unlike this one, today,
You could smell the pine, the lilacs that lay,
The towering cedars, old buffalo bones
Water falling from the ragged stones,
No contrails from jet exhaust,
No raspy chain saws, no sawdust,
Just the quiet of the forest breeze,
The soul’s poetry, if you please…
Just the heart beating to the rhythm of the planet

A Humble Scrap of Paper

2008-12-31T09:46:00.001-06:00

My heart cries for the pain,
That I have caused you this day,
The pain of a love nearly in your hands
A song, a few words, trying to understand
On a humble scrap of paper, caressed before it went
Can you sense the love, Touch my face,
Feel my arms around and about you,
A few tender words and not much more,
Can you live day to day, just the love I give you,
Our friendship and love are all we have in truth.

Penny

2008-10-07T22:22:00.000-05:00

Penny stood by the bed, a plastic smile on her face,
No rich man’s mistress, no Hyde Park Place,
Still she managed a bit of dignity of sorts,
Gazing into the afternoon haze, she wasn’t so coarse.

The fan cast its shadow on the headboard’s wall
Soft and still, the blades soothed not at all
She felt more alone this day then any this year
This day, her mother’s birthday, slowly her cheek wet with a tear.

Considering her life from school to career and this tenement room
The knocks on the door each night, faces blurred in this tomb
Spasms of nothing, fake sounds to please a man
None of THEM would care or understand.

Tomorrow would bring more of the same
A knock, shuffling, squeaking, no names
Eternal sadness, and creeping death in her soul
Saturday at the park, watch the families, completely alone

Oh, the light was beautiful this Sunday afternoon,
Her bosom rounded in this forgiving gloom
She’d pretend she was at the palace, some elegant night
While her soul continued its spiral downward in the half light

A Stop-off in Lima Peru!

2008-04-29T14:52:00.003-05:00

It's hard to think of myself,
As anything but country,
Country may have been,
Nine thousand miles away,
But next door in my philosophy.

I grew up in a wood frame house,
Not much but screens in the windows,
Barefeet was safer than shoes,
So's you wouldn't have to deal with moss on your toes.

We could play outside,
In the cool sweet grass,
Often spy a half grown boa,
As curious and fearful as we were,

The land all around,
Flooded for three months a year,
Our seasons were divided by half
Never saw a leaf turn orange.

News was what you could hear,
From VOA or Radio Havana
Them fellers from Cuba are slick,
Talked just like most New Yorkers!

I turned seventeen,
Got a letter with fancy writin,
Some man in the army,
Making requests of my presence.

They even got that mixed up,
'Cause they sent the darn thing
With dry goods and tools,
On a ship from New Orleans.

My pap, he went to the city,
Got with the bigwigs at the government
They and the Marines on guard laughed
There ain't much love 'tween the Army and Marines.

Turned out that letter,
Well, it was six weeks late,
The army was threatenin',
Wonder how the Peruvians would feel,
About our army stampin' on Peruvian dirt.

Yep, I was nine thousand miles
Fur enough from New York City
And some beaurocrat and his soldiers,
Was coming to take me away!

The folks at the embassy called to Panama,
Told a general's aid there,
In some steamy, jungle office,
Nearby that big ole Canal

How dumb his general staff was,
Writin' letters and sendin' 'em by boat!
How do you figger you're goin' to arrest,
Some feller in the backside of nowhere.

It ain't your get up to invade some country
'Cause you messed up communications
You sent a military letter in a boat bound for Malayia
With a stop off in Lima, Peru!!

Honeysuckle Yellow

2008-04-27T22:06:00.004-05:00

I’m down in the cool grass on a Friday afternoon,
Staring at the blossoms while the sun shines through
Honeysuckle blossoms, tastin’ airy wine
I don’t even care if it’s tresspassin’ vine

That pretty yeller flower, got a language all its own
Come on, play in my yard, its magic fallin' down
It crooks a petal at me, like a siren calls my name
My mind’s playin’ tricks, fantasies and games

Inviting and enticing
Like that honeysuckle wine
I can’t turn away, girl,
From that wild in your eyes

Honeysuckle yellow,
Honeysuckle vine,
Feeling so mellow,
Kissin's so fine,
Girl, you got to get up,
You take my heart and play.
You smell like honeysuckle,
We got to dance the night away

Back in Vietnam

2008-04-27T11:23:00.002-05:00

I cried pretty quickly, though I tried to hold them back...
it's really hard to read, then you just lose track,
No one really notices, and if they did, I wouldn't care,
It's folks like you, who are kind enough to share.

Looking at one grave, and another's headstone
you wonder how these people died, being hugged or just alone,
I guess it doesn't matter, they're heroes all the same,
'tis a sacrifice, and very little fame

I often think how it would be different, were it me, 'stead of them,
no kids in this house, just a pretty woman with no man
would I have honored myself, my family, and gramma, yes ma''am
Had I gone to war, tramped the swamps, back in Vietnam

I can hear the rolling thunder, some rifles fired near the graves
for the fellows and women, who know up in Heaven, Jesus Saves
He protected one fellow who by providence was spared
And I write this in honor of the proud ones who dared
........Back in Vietnam

The Moon

2008-04-25T14:41:00.001-05:00

Yellow the moon that dark night,
Taking my soul into its orbiting flight,
Reminding me of love,
Yet unrequited,
Silent and imposing,
Marked and unknighted,
Sadly it marches acros that deep sky,
With hearts, and love,
Trailing the baleful eye

Red Dawn

2008-04-21T16:03:00.001-05:00

Red dawn,
Like ions burning in a cauldron of Hades,
Plastered against the climbing cumulus,
Their bottoms lined up like an army of night,
With camoflauge of cyan and and white,
Pitted against the coming day.
Gathered as ghosts of ancient Greece,
Arrayed like infranty on battlefields of fleece,
A lone abode, stolid at their feet,
Ten thousand to 1, the odds on this day.
The house all quiet, ready the fray,
All are sleeping unaware of the play
Unaware of impending war.
Clashing and clanking of ghostly spears,
None but those with souls can feel the tears,
The ranks upon ranks of these hairy trolls of hell.
Look toward the blackened and baleful third world,
See toward the snarling whorl,
With muted whispers and excited shouts,
Invisible battle arrays about.
A land of the sky,
Where angels and demons,
And fairytales fly,
Fantasy, and children and kittens play,
Peter and his pirates,
Daniel and his den,
Thor and his minions for an hour a day

Old Love

2008-04-16T13:42:00.002-05:00

It would be good to sit across from each other,
in a coffee house and write,
cowrite, ponder and love,
two old wrinkled friends,
who would have seen the better part of 70 years,
and can write about it with meaning,
with authority and with charity.....
Perhaps that is the advantage of age.
The love can spring from the mind,
without the complication of the body.....
Confident that you share ideals and goals,
far beyond the temporal physical pleasure,
That you treasure what you have,
knowing together,
That the spring of breath each day is a gift.
That the wink of the eye carries affection,
that the freckled old hand is tender,
that young people can never understand,
it's not flirting between two old friends,
It's an understanding that,
there is far more to love than the linen sheets cover
There is communication that takes place.
Takes place on a level most people will never understand,
because they fear to think.

No Caffiene!

2008-04-14T12:14:00.002-05:00

By Kathy Workman

I’m facing a Monday
with no caffeine
No soda pop bubbles
no fragrant bean!

The infusion of energy
I want in my vein
causes my heart
to race and complain!

Jump in the shower,
Rattle my head,
stretch to the left,
bounce on the bed!

Nothing quite does it
the fog doesn't clear
The thinking stays muddled
all day, I fear.

In two to three weeks
the ban will be lifted
I'll grab the bean bag
the choice ones, sifted

Brew me a cup
drizzle in cream,
hot and uplifting!!
My coffee bean dream!

Fragrant for a Time

2008-04-14T10:48:00.001-05:00

The kidders, the friends, the visionaries, the brothers.
Writers, shooters, hikers and lovers.
Adventurers, dreamers and laughing smiles,
Enjoy it a moment, or more, a little while

We are here like incense,
fragrant for a time and then sadly gone,
we attach our emotions to that rising trail,
only to find that we cannot prevail.

None the less, we love, we cherish,
these friendships, this mist
passions, sharing, talk, and caring
time, and imagination, nothing sparing

God bless you, my dear friend.
We know that love never ends,
though mountain fall and rain floods in.
Love never fails, because He never fails

Natalie And Nashville

2008-04-11T20:31:00.004-05:00

Natalie kicked her butt at 6am,
punched a clock and home again
Every Friday night, she'd drink and dream
and spin the bottle in that water ring
Takin’ chances with the winkers,
makin’ love with stranger men
Then up on Sunday mornin’
going down to confession again

Her fingers wrapped a pen last night
inkin’ in blood, her broken pain
Dropped off in the rain, at music row
he'd cursed as the car sped on again
You can take your damned old songs
sing them in bars until you’re hoarse
They don’t care about your hometown songs,
just the polish you scratched on the lobby floor!

Natalie and Nashville are gonna collide on I 95
She’s got this idea and hell couldn’t make her fry
She’d kill for country music, She’d lie to save her soul,
She’d sell herself to make a hit, down on Music row

Twinkle, Twinkle Little Dream

2008-03-23T17:17:00.002-05:00

By Heather Duncan &
Wayne Cook

Never thought I'd stand before
Never thought I could get over
A wall is just a stepping stone
A helping hand, I’m not alone
Another hand took my own
Lifted me past the great unknown
Suddenly, I could see my star
Now my heart can dream afar

Children pray and Heaven hears
Dreaming helps relieve our fears
It only takes one candle light
To pierce the darkness of the night
The past is gone forever gone
Tomorrow may not ever come
Today we have few short hours
My wish is that you find your power

Twinkle, twinkle, little dream
Never mind what the world thinks,
Reach for all the stars you see
Renew your soul, when you dream
Twinkle, twinkle eager dream
Close your eyes, pray to keep
Wish by distant starry frames
Guide us to our candle's flame

Jamie's Garden

2008-03-23T17:02:00.002-05:00

By Wayne Cook

Once upon a faerie-tale,
My sister and I, plotting,
Squirmed into a looking glass,
All to escape our chores,
And perhaps penmanship from class,
Found ourselves in Jamie’s garden,
Amongst faeries and blooms
The fragrance at once intoxicating
And convenient for a hot Saturday noon!
What once was cold Indian tea,
Became a potion for pretending,
travel to exotic lands and social grace
laughter, forgetfulness,
And soliciting.
Soliciting! How’d that get in our tale?
Well, once in a great telling while,
Even a storyteller of great renown
Gets lost in words, my sweet child!
Since we had plenty of potion in sight,
And since were now so small,
We’d no reason to go home,
And oh,
The tale we’d tell was too darn tall!

Ansel, Why?

2008-03-23T14:48:00.003-05:00

By Wayne Cook

The clouds drift upward,
Cutting the sun to gray
Burning orange cuts through a hole
A fire of heavenly play

Towering walls; fogged granite,
Fluted rock; earth’s own teeth
Reflections of the hills in the lake
Still waters like silvered leaves

Nearby the branches bend
Creaking wood; popping bark
Morning sun splashed mountains
Darkness shrouds the evergreen hearth

A waterfall plunges breathtakingly
Down the cliff in halos of light
Crashing to splinters of wet below
Fading sun sparkles into night

How could one life and two eyes see
How could one pair of hands do
How could we ever realize the power
Ansel, why did you leave us so soon

Perfume...On a Sunday Afternoon

2008-03-23T14:41:00.002-05:00

Dedicated to Corina, whose photography inspires so much of my poetry....

Suddenly, just for a fraction of a second,
I could smell the perfume....
A whiff, like a Sunday afternoon,
Deep in Aunt Kathryn's garden,
Grass cooling my bare white ankles,
Bees buzzing in the heavily scented air,
Then, as quickly, as sensuous,
As had been the evocative thought,
The picture, the sound, the pleasure,
Sadly it was gone....so terribly sad,
Like rose sweetened love, evaporated.
Fluttering through sheer curtains,
Upon a bed of cooled linen sheets,
How wonderful a memory is....
In time, yes….lazily, leisurely,
It will return

I'm A Blue-eyed Son

2008-03-15T13:37:00.003-05:00

I was winding down the highway
With a bag and a cheap guitar
Humming Pre Road Downs, kicking rocks
Looking for a passing car

Looked once at that bag
When I sat down to rest
A bedroll, some clothes
Sun settin' in the west

Some fool yelled from a shiny Deuce
New York's the other way!
I was too tired to get mad
So I just laughed and waved

What was I lookin' for ?
Was it a woman or a holy place
Was it Yellowstone or Yosemite
Or sweet Amazing Grace

Was it Yellowstone or Yosemite
Was it just my wander lust, runaway
Can't do that anymore
Leastwise, not where I live today!

I'm a blue-eyed son from Kansas
Product of my momma's eyes
Part of me's in the concrete landscape
Just a tow head boy, with dreamer's eyes

Peach Blossom

2008-03-10T11:13:00.003-05:00

Dedicated to my friend, Corina....

This morning,
I peered from my window,
Hoping for a glimpse,
Health giving rays,
A smile from my old friend,
That golden sphere,
But!
My eyes fell on a bush,
The old peach tree in our garden,
Aglow with life and color,
Blossom after blossom,
Joyous sprouting of color,
pink petals,
Miracles of spring.
I saw them,
And my heart knew,
Life was to be renewed,
Surging happiness,
The plant raised its soul,
To thank its creator,
To give honor to Him,
Who had imbued it,
With such glory....
Just a humble plant,
No Lily of the field,
No Iris,
Or Morning Glory,
Just a peach tree.
But God has given,
Even the humble fruited peach,
honor this freshened morn!

Hibiscus World

2008-03-09T08:28:00.001-05:00

Always when someone,
So pleasantly announces themselves,
I'm curious as a kitten to come calling,
Gently meowing,
Eyes aglow,
Tail flipping,
Padding softly at your door...
Is this your house?
I ask,
Wondering at the magic,
Of the image before my seeking,
Darting eyes?
It seems to tell a wonderland,
Alive,
Perhaps covered 'neath a Winter snow...
A fantasy in miniature,
This tiny world I see...
What is hiding 'round that corner,
A warm light beckoning me...
Pray tell!

Crisp And Silent

2008-03-06T08:41:00.004-06:00

Photo used with permission by Stacy Hamilton

Dedicated to my friend, Renee

Crisp and silent the wood this morn,
Crystals by the millions form,
The birds huddle 'mongst the branches,
By the creek,
We draw a breath,
Early day,
Nature sleeps.
Romance spreads it's warmth and cheer,
Away go pressures and yesterday's fears,
The cold, the crunch, the white of snow,
The purity of God, and mercy flow.
I like it here mid the trees,
Somehow, I can hear His voice of Peace..
Still, small voice,
Awaiting my soul's inner choice,
That calm,
That cleansed mind,
While God waits with His so kind.

A Dear Friend

2008-03-05T17:22:00.005-06:00

By Renee Dawson,

A dear friend took a walk with me,
Down our snowy winter lane.
We talked and laughed,
As we took our stroll,
Through all the pines of white.
The sparkling snow,
The chickadees,
Red berries over there...
Everywhere we looked,
The view was just as bright!
Our time together was not enough,
So much to see and do.
This friend of mine,
An Angel must be,
One of God's brightest shining lights!

Droplets

2008-03-03T11:41:00.004-06:00

Splashes of color,
Sun light and wind,
Scattering droplets,
Ink that swims,
Patterns and chaos,
Imagination and skill,
Glowing with passion,
Exlosion, creative will

What Secrets Does She Hold?

2008-02-29T23:11:00.003-06:00

By Renee

Just a hint of light,
Bringing this beautiful bloom,
Hiding in the shadows,
to life.
What secrets does she hold?

If Ever

2008-02-22T13:25:00.003-06:00

If ever I should walk away, it would not be in morning
While daybreak shows the blue of your eyes
Shining in the warmth of the early dawn
No, I couldn’t leave you under this kind of sky

If ever I should turn away, it wouldn’t be at noontime,
The bright sun warming the love of our happy meal
Highlighting you through the print of your cotton dress
No, I couldn’t leave you, while your love I feel

If ever I should say goodby, it wouldn’t be at evening,
‘Cause evening makes you glow with love
Your hair casting golden sparks in the red sunset
No, I couldn’t leave, you’re such an angel from above

If I thought to leave you, it wouldn’t be at night time
Your body close to mine and I touch your silky skin
Night time is for loving and I lay there by your curves
No, I can’t leave you, when you light that fire within

Sunrise

2008-02-22T10:56:00.002-06:00

The glow of birth on a joyous morn,
The sun anew, alight, beautifully reborn,
Brief pause in breeze, in tree,
And sky and ground,
Paying homage for the happy return.

The Rose

2008-02-20T09:44:00.002-06:00

The rose,
Deep emotional iridescence,
A blend of color, texture,
Line and scent.
So like a woman,
Serene in her art,
Glow of romance,
Beat of her heart,
Passionate red,
Desire of the flower,
Mind and soul,
The touch and power,
Love flows between her and him.
Mind and soul, skin to skin,
The rose quivers beneath the dew,
Morning comes, beauty renewed.

Your Insigficant Fist

2008-02-19T15:58:00.005-06:00

There is wonder in the smallest of things,
Whether snail, or leaf,
Or imagined unseen fairy ring,
Hidden beneath bark and its rough-hewn face,
The life of the whole,
Depends on each organism's place.
Each twining of precarious life and death,
Reflects the larger frame,
The fragility of our drawn breath.
Without the small,
The larger does not exist,
Remmember that O soul,
When you tighten your insignficant fist.
Love must precede, envelop,
And come after all,
Else the plan that supports cannot but fall.
Love then, is the answer to prevail,
It must, lest all else fail.

February 29th

2008-02-17T00:13:00.003-06:00

You could hear the marble crack, the sound like a rifle shot,
I crouched cold in my steps behind an oak, looking over a railing top
Nothing seemed amiss, up or down the walk,
Must have been a branch, trees sometimes do talk

I stood up to peek about, and heard the snap again
This time I kept my wits, this time I saw one statue bend
Bend! Statues don’t bend! Well, this one did, plain as day!
You have to live on the wild side, to see a statue play

The marble commenced morphing, from mottled white, to pink skin,
Eyes of blue , a billowy white shirt, who would triumph marble or him
The change now complete, he dropped from pedestal to walk
Stood straight, and wiggled his toes—for me, time had abruptly stopped

Striding across the park like grass, held his hands high for a figure,
Still and white and serene, It turned to she, and jumped secure
man and woman, in love, she in his arms, a laugh and a smile,
They clung to each other, for a long, long while

Then walking about hand in hand, his eyes seemed locked to hers,
As if they’d never take each other all in, a mysterious curse
Modestly, in my feeble attempt, to let them be for the hours
I looked away, gave them time, to bend and share the flowers

Finally, they returned, he put her on her stand
Slowly, he watched her return to her marble state again
With tears streaming, down his aqualine nose
He climbed his pedestal, and assume his former pose

He looked at me as if to explain somehow, one last time,
seeing a natural unspoken question in my eye
“To embrace, to kiss, to hold, to find,
We only get a few hours of, one day only, February 29th”

Cruel Mistress

2008-02-16T15:22:00.002-06:00

She was living in San Francisco
Just a hundred yards from the bay
Watching the ships steam in and out
And shared the ocean’s play
Her mind would number the boats,
She could name the distant lands,
Of the crews from which they hailed
Then wipe the tears and say,

The ship is your mistress
When you leave your girl behind
You worship a capricious god
And she steals you, O, so blind
You gamble for a pittance
Serving lovers you cannot please
And the sirens songs echo from the seas
Yes, the sirens seduce another man,
To the seas.

She’d watched her father climb the gangway
Of a clipper ship in eighteen eighty six
Her mother held her hand that morn,
The home’s front door had never been fixed
Tears streamed down that woman’s face
Some fear in that woman's way
And the word had come from a trawler
That Davy Jone’s had had his say.

Yes, that ship was a cruel mistress,
And I can near him muttering still
But he’s gone to the locker below
And Jones has gotten his fill
That front door ne’er got the hinge
Nor the garden the new spring seed
For Anson took his chances
Now, Kathryn has his soul indeed.

Lonely Widow's Beds

2008-02-16T14:37:00.002-06:00

Ten thousand men were crouching
On the crest of Gafton Hill
Each one with a sharpened sword to bear
All of them a single will
Twas early March and early morn
You see their nervous breath
Before the dark of this English day
Five thousand would meet their death

Ten thousand men would run the vale,
To fight brothers eye to eye,
Cannon ball, arrow and bow,
Death’s stench would reach the sky.
The sky and sun don’t care about,
Your rank, or pause at your name
Their silent witness tells no tales,
Of soldier’s deeds or fame.

You can hear the ghosts of horses,
You and smell the ghosts of men,
If you squint your eyes a bit,
You can see the wars again
The ringing of steel on steel,
The pounding of the hooves
Shaking of mount and moor and hand
I could feel it where I stood.

It takes blood and bone,
Skin and pain to build a single man
It takes blood and blade,
Hell and hate, to kill him where he stands
You swing the sword, sever air,
You can fill the stream with red
But you can never replace the souls,
Or fill lonely widow’s beds.

Love's Milk

2008-02-14T01:06:00.001-06:00

It must have been that Monday, now it feels so far away
Maybe the summer sunshine, perhaps a lazy day
You fingers in my hair, you lips across my neck
It became so easy to fall, my life seemed so surreal

Makes the pain sting even more, each time I give a kiss
You face floats before me, of scented air it consists
I could fly forever, when you were my wings
All that lost, all is lost, everything

Your promise lifted me, from dusk to pearly dawn
Then sun broke through turbulent mist, a newborn fawn
I breathed the crystal air, drank the morning breeze
Though tenderness was ever warm, I watched it freeze

How could two hearts so entwined be torn so easily
Words will never describe, words like this are never free
How can you be so calm, old leather dried and cracked
When my drink is poison, love’s milk cannot come back

Maybe this is the way I know, what you can do to me
Just one more day of questions, one more day
Now I know what leaving means, rejection and the pain
‘Cause I’m standing here, just waiting in the rain

The Bolero

2008-02-12T23:11:00.001-06:00

He put on a disc of Maurice Ravel
And as the music began to swell
He removed his clothes with careful grace
And drank slowly from the melody’s well

It was soft and mellifluous
And blocked out the memories
Of a love he’d lost 20 years ago,
As he moved the tears cleansed his cheeks

His eyes drifted to the ceiling
Though his gaze went far beyond
To a sky that was blue and happy
And he danced quicker now

She came from the kitchen with her hands wet,
Wiping them on a towel
She’d been doing the dishes alone
Hearing that music up loud

A little perturbed,
She was going to speak to him sharp
Started swaying with the roll of the drums
As she watched him there in the dark

His body was lithe from the movements
And her body began to shake
She could feel the tension inside mount
Her soul started to quake

That passion of 15 years past
She hadn’t felt in a long time
Gradually, a change came over her
As she touched the sublime

Sublime was meant to be shared
And share it they did through the night
Dancing to Ravel
The bolero and the soft morning light

Three Little Brothers

2008-02-12T22:44:00.002-06:00

Three little brothers,
Hiding in a nest,
Each of them precious,
Each to be blessed,
May none disturb,
Their slumbers and place,
God, look down,
Touch them with sweet grace.

The Eagle

2008-02-12T09:02:00.000-06:00

The eagle soared on wings of grandeur,
Lifted by currents of sun heated air
Ever looking, ever vigilant,
He spied a young salmon leaving its lair
Twisting to dive and hide his shadow,
His elegant head thrust on its mission
Body focused on terrible speed,
Feathers constantly adjusting his direction
The salmon leisurely swam quietly,
Waving its tail to remain in place
Its meditation was not to be altered,
While above the torpedo raced.
Bird toward silvered water,
Fish aimlessly swam and pattered
Surface shattered by talons of steel,
Scales raked by knives and dented and splattered
The salmon struggled in fright and anger,
The eagle struggled to regain the sky
Wings ponderously wagged up and down,
Air trapped beneath pushed him higher
Salmon gasped for air and freedom,
The Eagle triumphant flew toward a tree.

An Angel's Touch

2008-02-10T22:21:00.000-06:00

She's a mystery in her disguise,
She's a temptress with those deep blue eyes
She'll draw you in, and tease you mad
She'll make you hot and leave you sad
Like roses on a Spring time eve
Her skin will touch, you'll never leave
Her hands will pull you to her tight
Embrace you in the June moonlight
Something that you'll ne'er forget
Her lips will touch, but never get
As close as you will want her to
She'll make you feel like she is true
And at the last you'll feel complete
But with the last sigh, rise and flee
For in that last kiss she'll require
Your heart and soul and your desire.
You may give and not regret
I think you will not object,
A woman of this kind of love,
Is rarer than an angel's touch.

The Moon Drifts

2008-02-10T18:34:00.000-06:00

The Moon Drifts

Night falls over the city close,
Floating a Technicolor dreamcoat,
off the celestial hat stand,
painted in hues I would love to blend.

Muted buildings in dull black,
Smoke curling from one lone stack,
Shapes in cones, trees, and squares,
Naught down there but worldly cares.

Up in the sky, the moon drifts,
In a sliver of light like a candlestick,
In a shadow box of pinks and blues,
A vast canvas of galactic hues.

Mr. Bug

2008-02-10T18:22:00.001-06:00

A bug may be a common sight,
people step on them day or night,
all you might hear is a slight scrunch,
as they expire beneath the shoe's crunch.

Slow down!
Take that closer look,
that dear fellow is an open book,
of science, and life, and mystery, just look!

Sluggish and unattractive he might be,
But he pays no rent and he lives free,
Food is usually stuff we leave behind,
Scraps of things, whatever he finds.

Why does he have six legs,
He looks like a tank on tent pegs,
With pads for landing should he fall,
At ½ inch, he really isn’t very tall.

A skin that is more like sheet metal,
A pair of wings to fly, an airborne kettle,
He dives and rises like a drunken bird,
But he doesn’t care and utters not a word.

Sometimes, Mr. Bug’s life is also hard,
Natural enemies, such as the birds are,
I wonder if he’s even aware of them at all,
I even wonder if he can hear his mother call

The Secret

2008-02-07T23:41:00.000-06:00

Wind blows through the ancient parapets
Whining down the crumbling stone steps
Listen carefully—the watchman calls
Crying out the hour, as fog and darkness fall

The grass and stone court yard shadow eerily
Clanking heard from the blackened armory
Iron to rusty iron, screeches at protesting door
Horse and squire, slowly exit, to the drill floor

Thudding resonates from polished equestrian boots
A figure saunters steadily toward his snorting brute
A swordsman, regal in flowing couplet and pants
Proud in bearing, take the reins, attention stands

Unaware, 500 years and counting, separate ghost and reality
Booted man, his steed and squire, turn their gaze upon me
Eyes are questioning, probing, intent and wordlessly
Turbulantly, I reach for answers, am I to search endlessly?

As I watch this scene passing, ragged pages, faded frames
I turn those storied sheets, my mind and soul, jump and fly
Imagination, aided with author’s pen, and artist’s curves
Their question, spoken silently, reveal the secret in the words

Sugar Cane

2008-02-06T23:12:00.001-06:00

It's taken me years and years to remember
I may forget in a second or so
That often happens at my time and age
The chaos of a lifetime ago

I have hung my hands over a cold steel railing
to watch the leaves floating down the river
You memory drifted through my windblown mind
with the cold lonely twinge of a shiver

I can see your sweet eyes on the murky, cold water
Like you are still calling out to me
But I know there is no going back there
We agreed long ago to let it be

Like syrup raw from Louisiana sugar cane
I smooth out as I get refined and grow older
Like Whiskey from the bottom of the aging keg
Women like me better if I go slower

Worse or Better

2008-02-05T12:45:00.000-06:00

She was gone with the wind
Running and breathless,
No time to think or pause to smell the roses.
Life can be like that
You think you have control
Suddenly, the escape door screeches and closes.

Dark magic on the loose,
A day turned tense,
And nothing has the glow it had yesterday
The sky might have warned
But most often it won’t
And now…now you have no time for play

A battle of the senses,
Not one thing tangible
You have to close your eyes, and depend on the wisdom of your soul
Does faith or fate win
The heart war seems grim
However, there be tricks and tools you have from an ancient scroll

Those writings were faint,
And spiritually quaint,
No one pays attention to those things any more.
Do you choose the wisdom
Or your physical power
As one by one those paths blink shut, door by darkened door.

Burning the future
To take care of the present
Hit with events, and unexpected force.
You’re a fighter, you’re a winner,
Not much takes you down
But you’ve tempted fate and fate has changed your course.

Sometimes in fear
Sometimes in joy
You look and feel your way hoping you’re allowed a voice
What is the end?
A beginning of something else,
Worse or better, no one tells the future yet mandates a choice

Sneaking Out

2008-02-04T13:20:00.000-06:00

Last Friday, I went over to your house,
We watched TV, your mom screamed at a mouse,
The show was about rising teenage pregnancy,
Your mom has always been a little tense,
Your dad yells at her, she's not making sense,
And it drove you crazy and a little antsy.

About 30 minutes in,
You changed the channel again,
But we got bored with reruns,
So we went for a walk on the wild side.
Boy, the night had blown, the dots of stars around,
All you could hear, Were raspy chirping sounds,
Our hearts beating, and our hands starting to sweat.

We snuck down, the back orchard path,
To an old willow tree, with darkness at last
And crawled up next to the trunk were we could touch.
It wasn’t long before our panting,
Had a heat of longing,
And hands were touching things they shouldn’t feel.

Passion is a wonderful sensation,
But it can lead to desperation,
And we were inches away from exploding into the moon.
All that stuff about pregnancy,
Waddled off with the fading images,
And we were flying up there near the clouds.

We lay back afterwards,
Not thinking much about the future
Just happy in the glow of two hearts as one.
About a month and a half later,
You called me in such a lather
And I nearly fainted from the shock of your news.

School was out the next summer,
And we had already said hurried vows,
I was looking for a job at the nearest drive through.
Amazing how a tiny little baby,
Makes life hard on a teenage lady,
And a man out of a boy, pretty damn fast.

We’ve made it now for a few years,
Lots of arguing and trails of tears,
We don’t know if we’ll make it to our tenth.
I still love her, she loves me,
But we’re sill kids anyone can see
And that little one sure is cute, but we lost something.

Hard to be romantic,
With a baby and the neighbor's static,
Seems we’re counting pennies and marking crying time
We get day old bread,
Oat meal and grace is said,
Without much to spend we each lot of burgers and fries.

Yeah, it was fun under that tree
Learning about you and me
The birds and bees, and forgetting about life.
I hope we love each other
Praying it doesn’t become a bother,
But we’re paying long and hard for Sneaking Out

When Unicorns and Fauns Gather

2008-02-02T18:44:00.000-06:00

It's a foggy morning in the woods of the past,
The wizard has woven his spell and left,
All that needs happen now,
To fall upon this ground, the magic spell.
When unicorns and fauns gather and tell,
of the tales of knights and kings.
Regaling each other with the memories,
Of crowns and sceptors and rings;
Of polished armor and clashing steeds,
Spears and swords, and broken reeds,
Men struggle and sweat in fear
Grunts and pain, and blood and tears.
And when the telling was over,
All had drunk of the memory ale,
And all were satisfied with the tales,
They rose and toasted with blackberry wine
How must they missed the old times!

Mr. Hawk!

2008-02-01T20:51:00.001-06:00

Hello there, Mr. Hawk!
You are a dignified looking chap!
What morsel today, have you caught,
What are you sharing with the cat?
Your eye is sharp, your head proud,
Mind, you are ahead of the pecking crowd!

My Heart Laughs at My Dreaming Mind

2008-02-01T08:42:00.000-06:00

Floating nebulus,
An ethereal spaceship,
Painted in pink, orange, and white.
There, see it! Above the trees,
Majestic, fearsome,
I cannot move my transfixed eyes.
Spewing vapors from exhausts,
My mind creates a crew,
A band of miscreants from Katmandu.
What purpose, what sinister plot,
Purveyors of planets,
Scouts on a celestial field day.
My heart laughs at my dreaming mind.

Thor and His Minions

2008-01-31T14:21:00.001-06:00

Red dawn,
Like ions burning in a cauldron of Hades,
Plastered against the climbing cumulus,
Their bottoms lined up like an army of night,
With camoflauge of cyan and and white,
Pitted against the coming day.
Gathered as ghosts of ancient Greece,
Arrayed like infranty on battlefields of fleece,
A lone abode, stolid at their feet,
Ten thousand to 1, the odds on this day.
The house all quiet, ready the fray,
All are sleeping unaware of the play
Unaware of impending war.
Clashing and clanking of ghostly spears,
None but those with souls can feel the tears,
The ranks upon ranks of these hairy trolls of hell.
Look toward the blackened and baleful third world,
See towared the snarling whorl,
With muted whispers and excited shouts,
Invisible battle arrays about.
A land of the sky,
Where angels and demons, And fairytales fly,
Fantasy, and children and kittens play,
Peter and his pirates,
Daniel and his den,
Thor and his minions for an hour a day

When God Stepped Down

2008-01-31T14:06:00.000-06:00

Like fire from a mountain,
The clouds mounted the sky,
The sun broke through them,
Without asking why,
A torrent of air,
With moisture in tow,
Bullied the column,
As if it were snow.
You could see them,
The shapes and the flowing robes,
Flashing in the sun,
With hearts pounding,
Vaporous boulders ready to blow,
Like dynamite without sound,
Imagine lightning without thunder.
My eyes glowed from exhiliration,
My hands clenched with anticipation,
I could scream in fear;
But not miss this moment,
When God stepped down and left me glowing!!!

The Kiss Never Happened

2008-01-30T23:17:00.000-06:00

You were the faint sight on a far off isle,
Your hair blowing wild in the salty ocean breeze,
The apparition I wanted to grasp for my own,
The woman....the one I knew I'd never see

I would clutch in the enveloping darkness,
A pretty ghost with a faintly mocking but enchanting smile
A siren for which I would gladly give the world
Because you had becalmed my ship with guile

I cared not that it would be fatal
Nor a whit that I'd drink to death, alone and apart;
I could never wrench you from my mind,
Because you had already taken my heart

It was a mystery of infinite beauty,
A woman without compare
The oceans could not contain you
No chains would bind you here

You were free to leave on the evening wind
The tide could take you anywhere,
But you lingered as if you had mouthed an excuse
To touch my face with a kiss we shared

Now it seems that the kiss never happened
And I look as a man in a devil's trance
No embrace is left for me to treasure now
No trace of the woman or that wondrous dance

Tomorrow, Please Don't Come

2008-01-29T22:40:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, was like sand,
already gone through the pipette of the hourglass,
precious moments for two,
spent with love and care,
words to soften life's blows,
and embraces to touch.

Today, was like the lift,
of a early June breeze
the scent of roses in the air,
an afternoon on the sands of South Padre.
making spiritual love through
eyes of gentleness,
a soft touch of a finger on my cheek,
the happy voice of my loved one.

Tomorrow, please don't come so quick
I am enjoying today
for it's eternal joy and the cheek of my lover.

Soup Is Warming on the Stove

2008-01-29T22:22:00.000-06:00

My friend, you are about to embark,
On an adventure of friendship,
The likes of which you have never seen.
This group of happy miscreants,
Is a family of unprecedented love...
Like a well tempered coven of brothers and sisters.
You don't have to earn your way,
Or prove your mettle with this or that....
You will find that the chocolate,
Is hot and plentiful,
The coffee smooth,
Cookies are always to your liking,
Crisp or chewy,
And the kitchen is large enough for one more.
Soup is warming on the stove,
And you will find,
Sooner or later,
I am in a corner for some wisecrack or other...
All in good taste,
But momma Kathy,
Has a wonderful dry sense of humor,
And loves a good laugh.
Bring your hat and coat,
Prepare for fun chats around the table.

Gingerbread House

2008-01-29T22:11:00.000-06:00

Snows lies on my fence,
Like crisp vanilla frosting,
Thick, sugary, creamy white.
Each slat in the fenceline,
Like a milk chocolate bar,
A fairy tale complete,
With a fantasy gingerbread house.

Little Boy Draw

2008-01-29T21:08:00.000-06:00

Drawing girls on the back window,
Like dreaming on a frosted glass
Fancy fingers with softened insight
Life will pass him all too fast.

Her Laundry

2008-01-29T21:06:00.001-06:00

Her laundry left o'ernight to dry
became the object of a falling sky,
She knew at once what to do,
but left the chore for him to pursue...
Can't say as I blame her!

God Forsooth

2008-01-29T21:03:00.000-06:00

Startled sun,
Thicket of branches,
Barring me from god pursuit,
May I thread the tangled wood,
Touch the orb, god forsooth

Face Upon a Wall

2008-01-29T21:01:00.001-06:00

Face upon a wall look down,
Find my isnificant self below,
I would the artist mind to probe
Find his soul, find the lode.

Color Wheel

2008-01-29T20:58:00.001-06:00

Like colored filters and liquid sun,
My mind remembers; soul undone,
My heart enjoins the color wheel,
Yellow, green, and reddened still

Azure Dropped

2008-01-29T20:55:00.000-06:00

Crystal of nature built,
scattered through the petal's tilt,
Yellow bright to tease my eye,
Azure dropped from lilting sky

Ancient House

2008-01-29T20:53:00.001-06:00

Ancient frame like ancient house,
Left to nature and squeaking mouse,
I passed this way, to see the sight,
Left with image and inner light

Piny Woods

2008-01-29T20:51:00.001-06:00

The sun set in the piny woods,
Softly glowing sky,
I'd rise to meet you if I could,
But wishing leaves me teary eyed...

Three Inches!

2008-01-29T20:48:00.000-06:00

Street is a torrent now,
Three inches of water log,
If I were to blame the sky,
He might turn and spit in my eye!

Can't See My Way at All

2008-01-29T20:45:00.000-06:00

The water drops,
The rain falls,
Can't see my way at all,
But I'll be ok,
As long as I look,
With a mind to see,
Each dewy nook.

A Few Tiny Flowers

2008-01-29T20:29:00.000-06:00

Dedicated to my friend Jozef....

The softened yellow against a sea of dark blue,
Makes me wonder how the sky ever broke through,
To make this tiny miracle of a buttery hue,
Just a few tiny flowers against a sea of blue....

It Was August

2008-01-29T10:08:00.000-06:00

It was August of ’72, and summer was ending
The night before had seen the moon,
Watching over lovers in their embraces
Like the end of the world had come too soon.
Something told me that this evening
Was the last I’d see of my love
With the light fading; the sand cooling
I turned and embraced a heavenly dove
With the stars exploding,
and the earth trembling,
the twilight showed our faces in blue,
but it was anything but blue,
anything but sadness
as we split crimson rays with our kiss.
The ground stopped moving,
The sun kept setting,
And her face faded in the mist.
But my mind is taken each day at sunset
To that angel, that God let me kiss.

Dreams

2008-01-29T10:05:00.001-06:00

Dedicated to Corina Daniela Obertas...
Her sunrise...
http://outdoors.webshots.com/album/562150910eQCkOV

When I look at a sunrise, I think of Africa,
With its Hemingway Skies, and its grasses beneath
The glow and the clouds, relieve a city's dark crush;
Unfold my soul and release me to the sky.
I look at yours, and I see the dream,
I see the sparkle and I see the gleam....
Burn that bridge that would let you turn back,
Dream of wings and then take flight....
nothing but dreams can inspire you,
nothing but dreams can drive you on,
nothing but dreams can lift you to light,
nothing but dreams are enough tonight.

Sun Peep

2008-01-29T08:03:00.000-06:00

Sun peeps through the lowering clouds,
Touching the peaks of the snow capped mounts,
I rise to the sight of a mystical day,
Light and shadow and magic in mind,
Soul frolicking in kind.

Yellow, The Moon

2008-01-29T07:53:00.000-06:00

Yellow the moon that dark night,
taking my soul into its orbiting flight,
reminding me of love, yet unrequited,
silent and imposing, marked and unknighted,
sadly it marches across that deep sky,
with hearts, and love, trailing the baleful eye.
Sadly, I turned my face away,
lest I be one of the hearts flayed.
Desire, imagination, tenderness undiscovered,
what future is there with love unsatisfied.
My hope, will strain its leash,
My best friend, love and peace.

Heart and Soul

2008-01-25T09:38:00.000-06:00

I was motoring to work in the driving rain,
Remembering the softness of your lips again,
Making promises in my head that I'd kiss you,
until it made the world stop.....

Your gentle eyes against the pillow white,
I wonder how the angels aren't envious tonight,
and the one thing I know for sure,
Is the beauty you possess,
Just drives me wild,

You've got my heart and soul tonight,
It's just a moment from my mind's delight,
And there's no way I want to leave,
The heaven in your eyes......

The Brass Plaque and Naught Else

2008-01-24T14:55:00.000-06:00

It was early morn, in 1885,
I was out for the air,
Bled Lake by my side.
Through the soup like mist,
I saw the distant and faint spire,
Like a proud lighthouse,
Without its morning fire.
It was shrouded, to be sure,
But not without view,
And the land it stood on,
Embellished its height anew.
The fog lifted slightly,
And the island I could spy,
With glows here and there,
From windows through the still darkened trees.
My breath caught a moment and I could envision,
A damsel peering out,
Across the rippled sea.
Hair black as night,
And piled across her shoulder,
Like the moss on the rocks,
Thick and rich and flowing.
The water of the narrows,
Was pink form the sun,
But, blue from the lingering night,
And I scarce could take it in,
Without rubbing my eyes.
Shadowed though the island was,
And terrible in portent,
It contrasted that,
With romance and madness.
Rowing with all my might,
Poor though that was,
I sweated my way to the rocky shore.
I threaded my way up the pebbly bank,
To further glimpse the maiden I'd seen.
A man though I am,
And glad of a comely woman,
I was tense as if,
By my presence, she'd be gone,
In the flash of a moment.
Finally, puffing,
I emerged from the trees,
There she was, standing, still,
Looking to see.
I laughed though I admired,
For the beauty she surely possessed,
A statue, a momument,
brass plaque and naught else.

So Many Miles

2008-01-23T09:29:00.000-06:00

I wanted to tuck your forehead,
beneath my cheek
feel your lashes brush my throat
sense you breathe against my chest
I wanted to feel your neck
pulsate to our love
feel your heart beating
on the other side of your breast
I wanted to put my lips to yours
and feel the heavens
spin around and around
for no reason at all
I wanted to caress your fingers
and feel that softness
from the tenderness in your hands
as we whirled about our nest
I wanted to feel your hips
against me as we danced
in reckless abandon,
through the thickness of the night
But you are there,
and I am here, and it's miles before we meet
so many miles before we meet......

Why, Oh, Why is Love so Powerful?

2008-01-23T08:58:00.000-06:00

I see her in the morning dark,
and want to crawl back in bed,
to feel her warm skin against me
her fragrance to fill my head.
Terrible the sense that I must leave
like work is some kind of awful god
It tears the the bond I feel this morning
And cruelly on our love it trod.
I kiss and kiss again
For I may not return home
Who knows what awaits me
On the lonely way I roam.
God did not create us,
To stop with loving this way.
He made us to be together
And I hurt from each parting, every day
How can I bear this,
I see your eyes as I drive
How much hurt can I walk through
How much pain before I fall.
Trembling I forge forward
Why, oh, why is love so powerful?

Rose Bud

2008-01-22T21:35:00.000-06:00

Curled against the chill,
The bud huddled as well as it might,
Atop the thin but sturdy stem,
Against the encroaching night,
Petals held tightly together,
Leaves trapping a little heat,
You could imagine,
Stem, stamping its rose feet
Suddenly appeared,
An admiring eye,
A gentle artistic soul,
Hand quick with lens and light
The rose stood tall
With pride and patience
The camera flashed,
The near hushed, hurried dance.
The night closed in once more
The little flower,
Tingled in the wind
Time marched past
The bud, curled against the chill

Romance

2008-01-22T13:02:00.001-06:00

Today, I realized that what I thought was romance
was just two people living as friends under a roof
A pleasant home, with generally a happy dance
We started wtih that, then children came
And gradually, the glue cracked and ...air took its place
Romance grew old and antique yellow
It wasn't the pretty rose or the hotter red
It seems that romance
Has joined the tattered wedding dress

Friend from a Purple Cloud

2008-01-22T10:33:00.000-06:00

Dedicated to my cowriter, and friend, Corina Daniela Obertas

It was Tuesday morning, the middle of fall
I was surfing through albums and photos and all
I was wandering in my fingers, my mind was flat
I saw this image on a website, of flowers and plants
Some one had a green thumb and a garden of eden
How could they do this with the weather getting grim
I poked around and looked and saw this smile
I swear it was sunshine and happiness and joy for miles
Most people you don’t think of as angels right off
But this one, this girl looked like she just dropped from a cloud
I returned to the picture of the garden again,
Some of the things she’d shot from here and then
I sent her a note, about friendship and shots
Wasn’t too sure what would happen or not
You never know how you’ll be perceived,
But you sure won’t know unless you believe
Wasn’t long before she replied back
Like she was a neighbor just down the street
Puzzled and pleased and confused by the smile
I sure pondered the niceness for a great while
How can anyone be that nice and caring
Gentle and kind, and sweet and sharing
I sure wanted whatever she had
I wanted it, make no mistake about that
Man, a friend like this, you don’t find real soon
In fact, you may not find one as giving by day or moon.
Sometimes you’re hurt and no one understands
And she steps alongside to hold your hand
It’s not like other people wouldn’t work,
She just came and did it first
A friend will forgive you when no one else will
This one…this one came, her voice, hell couldn’t still
And I can remember the day that I fell and cried
She pulled me back and sat down beside.
My friend from a purple cloud,
With the heart of a lion, but voice soft, not loud

Flitter and Flutter

2008-01-22T08:35:00.000-06:00

Dedicated to my friend, Corina, who gave me the idea...

The flitting and flutter
And flashing of wings,
The color of a canvas
With plenty of paint.
Splashed and stroked,
And touched by a master,
This fellow carried his art
Like it didn't matter!
I watched him as he wobbled
From one flower to another
Seemed he wasn’t content
Sniffing this bud or that nector.
He’d alight delicately on a petal
With magical dancing feet
As if to follow the drum
Of a mystical drum beat.
This was a fine day for watching
With just warmed sun
Like the dawn of a red sky
With clouds just having fun
The leaves of my shrubs
Reaching once more the orb
It’s burning not yet arrived
Yet proclaiming its domain as lord
The butterfly flew on,
Content with the pursuit
Of daisies and roses,
Even a dandelion or two
Finally, on his mission complete
He flew off around my head
As if to say, you silly man
You only have two feet!

Paddie

2008-01-21T12:39:00.000-06:00

We had a visitor the other day, didn't come in the usual way.
He was so dimunitive, he quite fell in to the pool!
He thought for a moment that the water was grand,
But soon wished for solid, dry land.
A hedge hog isn't made for swimming pools;
It wasn't something they'd taught him in school.
His little face was passive,
But inside his heart was pounding, his feet quite active!
Not to fear, this house,
Who's hostess is turned to love of smallish beings,
Rescued little Paddie from this ignominious dunking.
Inside, in the arms of his new heorine,
He, now exhausted, fell to sleep.
She laid him to sleep in the cat's soft bed,
And he lay quite still in teh tufts of the quilt.
It wasn't long before he awoke with some measure of curiosity,
Padding the house with pomposity.
The story of how he came to the state of musical genius
Is a story I'll have to nab from his hostess.
I hear she's done rescues and restorations like this before!!
White and black keys....my wondering mind pursued...
A little of this sound and some of that,
Like peanut butter and lip smacks....
Satisfying and playful,
Long as you desire...
One note, two notes, a magical musical fire!
A genius is born, and he needs not be big,
He's got the pitch in his mind,
And the will to succeed!
How did God come up with a being so small,
When most of the world around is so darn tall!
Tell you what, a droll idea,
We'll take him to Concerts and excercize his ears...
A set of strings, the bark of horns,
The ping of chimes and My Sweet Lord!
Paddie loves this new world so far from the hedge...
With music to enjoy, why return to his bed?

Such a Smile!

2008-01-21T09:52:00.000-06:00

Through the woods, I tread one day,
the leaves crackling underfoot.
I wondered as I passed,
why I needed those hiking boots.
Then happened, as wondrous suprises always do,
I arrived at a hillocks edge.
The pebbles tumbled down,
I feared I’d made my last step!
A vista of land spread before me,
with valleys and hills, and clouds.
I gasped, my heart paused,
my breath caught aloud.
Barely a breeze, but O, the art,
The panorama lay for miles!
The sight rose as if a movie shot,
Now left me….with such a smile!

Bright Star

2008-01-21T08:29:00.000-06:00

By Ramona

You shine like a bright star at night,
I look at it, but see you!
Like a twinkling eye.
Comfort from above,
"I am here not too far from you,
Sleep well you say,
And dream the sweetest dream "
What blessings come from heaven above?
Wherever I look,
I see the grace of God,
And you are there, held under His wings,
To send greetings all the way to me,
All through that twinkle in the sky

The Bug That was Mike!

2008-01-20T23:33:00.000-06:00

A tree, a post, that bush rolling through the field,
I suspect it had a previous life it filled,
A mouse, a horse, or God forbid! A man!
Now I know I recognize,
The bug that was Mike,
Is the orchard where I stand!

Hoping For You

2008-01-20T23:22:00.000-06:00

A memory not yet complete,
May only be a fantasy today,
As a reality not yet realized.
But the hope, whether answered in a few moments,
Or delayed for years,
Keeps the heart young, the thoughts loving,
And the anticipation sweet to the soul.
If not for hope, much of life would be,
The sad exercise of climbing the mountain,
Only to find nothing at the top.
Hope, is that for which you have faith,
Faith in a love, Faith in a God,
Faith that wll not die, because there is a rope,
Between the two, which held tight,
Reveals that there is someone at the other end,
Who is pulling it just as hard,
Hoping for you.

Remember Me

2008-01-20T00:29:00.001-06:00

Oh, the twists and turns, have brought me here
The choice, the sins, the unfaced fears,
Faces in the dark, of the dark, behind the dark
Crusting and aging and destroying my heart.

Here I kneel, before the tomb,
One last time I crave the womb
The warmth that I left far behind,
Innocence lost, the devil reminds.

I would beg forgiveness, could I remember the words
I would ask the last chance, if I could just stop the world
The Thief mustered one last shuddering breath
Remember me, just before his death

Baloney!

2008-01-20T00:09:00.000-06:00

I get tired each day of eating food just right
I get tired of my fiber count every night
I get tired of making sure the vitamins are there
And I sure get tired of my physician’s frowny stares

It’s impossible to eat just one baloney slice
It’s impossible as teaching lions to be nice
It’s impossible for boys not liking baloney pies
Thick chewy slices like my momma buys

There oughta be a committee, a baloney lobby
We could introduce a bill for kosher salami
There oughta be a law about baloney for cheap
Someone could invent a way to eat it in our sleep

So, I’ll have baloney for breakfast, Baloney for brunch
Baloney for my snacks and baloney for lunch
I’ll have baloney--any time that I feel
I’ll have baloney right now, baloney for every meal!

You May

2008-01-20T00:00:00.000-06:00

You may not feel like a beautiful woman today,
But you are my angel
You may not like what you see in the mirror,
But you are a queen
You may not feel like you can make it through another hour,
But you are the sunshine to my day
You may be a small person in a big world,
But you are a tall willowy woman in mine
You may think that you’ll never accomplish much in life
But you have touched mine with heaven
One’s value should never be measured by feelings,
Although we all do, sometimes,
And have negative feelings about ourselves.
One person, every person,
Born on this earth is of such value,
That the creator of the universe,
Sent his one priceless child
To affirm your value to Him.
This isn’t a Christmas thought,
Or a poem to celebrate a day….
It’s my thoughts about you,
My appreciation for a friend….
My attempt, poor as it may be,
To let you know how wonderful you are

Siren's Song

2008-01-19T23:35:00.001-06:00

Morning dawned crisp, cool, and fragrantly
I saw a strong young child lying in a meadow thus contentedly
The bright green grass waved hypnotically
Even I was lulled into tranquility

As the sun rose, the child stood to play,
arms outstretched; ecstatic day!
touching end of twirling green fingers.
The plants caressed his young skin
They seemed to say
“Oh, son of man, join us today!”

His face answered with a delighted smile,
I’ll stay, but just a little while
I’ve mountains to climb, trails to hike, valleys to explore.
If I stay too long, I may not leave forevermore.

The he played and played the morning long
That finally he forgot the young explorer’s song
He forgot to strive, struggle, and yearn
And slowly, slowly forgot to learn
Forgot the thing that brought him here
The seeking mind, the joy, the fear
The grassy siren’s song had claimed his soul
No longer cared he of its toll

Fat and sleek now still he played
The grass had won; his plan delayed
Forgotten were the eager boy’s pursuit
Forgotten was the prize and fruit

The child, lay down now and weary, no longer played
The grass waved on; the trap was laid
And finally closing puffy eyes;
The grass began its waving sigh

Day was dying in the west
The beckoning sun lay down in rest
The siren’s song began again
Sweet and soft it hid the sin
It spoke of lust, of fun, and play
You need not work again today

Then I spied another child
Slowing walking toward this terrible wild
This time I didn’t hesitate or stay apart
I ran to her to warn her heart

The morning dawned, crisp, cool, full of light
This time Joan of Arc stood….quite prepared to fight.

Pieces of You

2008-01-19T23:33:00.001-06:00

I found a piece of you
on a soft Sunday afternoon
The sky dripped you on me
while the Brazos crooned
Like the fragrance
of a morning mist in early June
Then, with the morning mist
you drifted far from our room
I found a piece of you
on a lonely road
While struggling home from Beluxi
with a heavy load
I could see your outline
as the rain pounded the wheatfields
I burned to feel you closer than
that vision in the windshield
I find pieces of you
in nearly every day
Your loving covers me
with the sun’s warm rays
Rainy days your tender arms
take me on quiet flights
When it snows,
your body warms me in the wintry night
I close my eyes
and there’s pieces of you in this simple line

Now at Rest

2008-01-19T18:59:00.001-06:00

I spied that shore, the gritty sand
The water’s foam, the drier land
Treading lightly, upon the grains
The water washed, little remained

I raised my eyes to roiled clouds
The darksome sky, the hissing sounds
Of troubled wave, of windswept air
Smell of salt, wetted hair

The storm approached, demonic power
The sky arose, clouds turning sour
The heated day, broke in a clash
Of lightning bolt and thunder crash

And then it swept, the air now clean
It broke the evil, on which I leaned
Replaced with peace, ‘peace be still’
No longer sad, not soul was ill

Then I walked with lighter step
The sand showed how I leapt
Joy of freedom, ‘neath my breast
Now at rest…..yes….now at rest.

Love Isn't Love 'Til it Bends

2008-01-19T18:02:00.000-06:00

His white head is bowed with the weight of his age
The blue eyes gaze far from the room
His sadness is etched in more than his face
And his heart beats a deep mournful tune
The friend of his youth, the passion of his soul
No longer she whispers her love
Her face shows the smile of the morgue owner's hand
Her lips mind a sad mourning dove
Where is the answer to an old broken heart
How do you wipe tears from the soul
Where do you go when the end of the road
Makes you stand alone in the cold
Why does death leave no flowers behind
Who says the pain ever ends
What do you say to the one who is left
Love isn't love til it bends

The Orchard

2008-01-19T10:31:00.000-06:00

Dedicated to my great friend, Mike.

A tree, a post, that bush rolling through the field,
I suspect it had a previous life it filled,
A mouse....a horse, or God forbid! A man!
Now I know I recognize,
The bug that was Mike is the orchard where I stand!

Looking Out

2008-01-18T23:52:00.001-06:00

I love the color in these leaves...
it's like the hand of God,
brushed across the tops of them,
somehow made them bleed,
they look soft as a lamb's wool,
but they stood the test of storms,
it only took a little time to see the buds
then He'll write another line about

How, He's looking out for me and you,
just like He does the leaf,
His hand trembles every time we fall,
and tears fall in His grief.
He loves everything He made,
most things love Him back
But me and you will strain to leave
And sometimes, the rope will slack

Sunfish

2008-01-18T07:34:00.000-06:00

Dedicated to my friend and gifted writer,
Corina Daniela Obertas,
who has inspired me anew,
given fresh life to tired hands.
Fresh words to worn soul......

They had just gotten a tiny sailboat, a little Sunfish,
Plastic frame, wooden tiller,
Nylon sail, and vastly sensuous.
I've devoured sailor stories,
read books about navies
Going about solely driven by the wind fascinated me.
Scudding across the deep blue waters,
Ducking my head when turning on a tack,
Hull heeling as the wind caught the sheets again,
Blue breeze ruffling my young boy hair,
Bretending to be the captain of a clipper.
I've grown physically since then,
But I watch the boats and ships from afar,
And wonder at the lands from which they hail....
No doubt each is from the dock nearby,
But.....that doesn't matter to my young boy mind...
Imagination drives my sight.
You continue to inspire me, my heart pines.
Perhaps, you are the young woman figurehead on my ship,
Beautiful, smiling, ever close, my dearest friend.

Rules, Rules!!

2008-01-17T16:06:00.000-06:00

Mightily, the drops cascade from a lowering sky,
drooping as if to emit a fragrant sigh.
Each stamen, each petal, each flowering gem, accept the sky's abuse,
some must fall beneath the blows, an existential, unwelcome truth.
I walk between, betwixt the plants, to touch each head,
As if by name, I should call the fallen ones, back from their watery death.
Of course I know the rules, and rules this time, are harsh and cold.
Still, more to grow beneath the sun, as if defiant and bold.

Fallen

2008-01-17T15:58:00.000-06:00

Fallen, fallen, the ground absorbs them all,
From berry to bark, to branch, none can escape the call.
No romance, this circle of growth to grave,
Each must contribute, each must accept the end of this day.

Old Sun!

2008-01-16T08:38:00.000-06:00

Agonizingly slow, the sky peeps Sun’s color into my view,
For once the pollution appears beautiful and new,
From brown to orange and muted deep reds,
The clouds visually resonate the sun rising from His bed.
Like an indirect light illuminating my room,
The walls take on a pastel color yellowish hue.
A lower level of clouds rimmed across its ragged edge
With burning orange-white, a splash of mystic sedge
As though the sun had toasted the night,
The once blue vapor into a magical light.
"Rise, Old Man, Rise!" and trembling he seems to fear!
Wavering, the crescent rises into the visible atmosphere,
As if the introduction once again to a mere human,
Somehow frighteningly intimidating against its burning brand.
I laugh at the thought, Old Sun has been caught, revealing,
His one weakness this morn. I have but one moment for stealing.
His one weakness this morning opens a crack, I seize the door,
The sky, the color, the sun are mine for a flash of time, no more

Thin Air

2008-01-13T17:47:00.001-06:00

Thin Air
©2008 Wayne Cook

I could see the sky
In her doe-like eyes
The earth silent at her feet
Her shoulders rose proud
Like the tops of clouds
The sun worshipped her when in sleep

Her body was lithe
A sculpture alive
With flesh and bone and blood
Gentle of face
I could sense her grace
Desire and my tears mixed flood

I played my guitar
As my mind strayed afar
An invitaion played in her smile
The image would stay
Then it would fade
My arms reached for her all the while

My soul sang a song
My heart panting, longed
For her fragrance and skin drove me mad
Her breath sighed anew
Finally I knew
The dream through, desperate, I grabbed

Thin air……

Rio Colorado

2008-01-13T00:17:00.000-06:00

©2008 Wayne Cook

They say this land is largely untouched
People disappear into vines and brush
They go on in, may lose their mind and never care
You don’t wear shoes much down here
I’ve seen them rot off in under a year
Stand 50 feet from a man; you may never see him there

It’s a land of beauty, just untamed
Like Eden… just slightly stained
Each man watches where he walks with careful grace
Jungle is a woman with her black hair down,
Smile on her face, her morals on the ground
Knife behind her back; man, you better know your place

You might hear that dart fly past
And again you might breathe your last
A blow gun is deathly quiet in the hands of the right man
You’ll swear you had the best intentions
But best intentions were a shameless sin
You fade away with nothing but your empty hands

Indian trails will seduce you and not deliver
Seduce you again with the curves of a lazy river
And you’ll never get out of the arms of the fragrance
Orchids dangle from wet black dados
Or carelessly from rocks and shadows
You may walk, you may run, but you’ll not get a dance

You’ll find gold down on the Rio Colorado
Gold like you’ve never seen this side of El Dorado
Gold nuggets you can hold with your trembling bravado
Cause you’ll never get out of the arms of the Rio Colorado

The Leaf

2008-01-12T00:21:00.000-06:00

Used with permission:
By Corina Daniela Obertas

You stop for a moment...
Because you see a fallen leaf in your way
So fragile and bereft of power...
A tear is oozing slowly
And the leaf looks at you with an warm smile
Saying thank you in this way,
because you came closer,
That you were impressed by her beauty,
Saying thank you because
You didn't trample it under foot without mercy...
Than your heart was softened
And you decided to immortalize that moment
In order to give it eternal life...

The Silence of the Wood

2008-01-12T00:17:00.000-06:00

Used with Permission:
By Corina Daniela Obertas

Step by step you stride into the the silence of the wood,
Little by little, everything behind you vanishes,
Suddenly, you realise that the only sounds you hear
Are the rustle of the dried leaves over which you walk,
Birds singing, and the soft sigh of your breath...
And then...you feel your heart intensely beating.