Sometimes the good moments in life can be measured in seconds
Seconds, smearing into minutes
Minutes clicking through the clock wheels of time
Falling from the hour hand that moves quickly toward the mundane everyday
But these minutes lived far out weigh the everyday
Moments lived much like the life of a snow flurry
Weightless stars of ice floating in perfect beauty
Glistening crystals suspended
Drifting in a snowdrift
Unstressed by the hand of the dealing
Untouched by the world at that moment
A moment that can’t be taken away
But away the moment will fade
Or melt by time passing too quickly
By circumstances out of our control
But as one moment fades
The next is starting to build
Perfect conditions to float on nothing but feeling
Coast through the day
Waft wildly without restrictions that sometimes clutter our sight
One tiny moment
One tiny flake of possibility
One after another
Moments of happiness are built by the building
The goodness will eventually keep coming
Changing your life for the better one moment at a time
Published at Dead Snakes 9, 30, 2011
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Poem : A Woman’s Woman’s Woman
There’s a woman’s woman’s woman that feels all she is feeling
Over and over again
Again and again over and over
Honestly looking into her soul
With eyes that see into the depths of her existence
Seeing the raw power of heartbeats a beating
In the most wonderful way
Spinning in a world brought on by her need
Her need for the woman’s woman inside her to feel love
To be heard
For someone to walk quietly beside her and listen to all she has to say
To comfort her fears
Wash them away
Like the sea gently brushing footprints in the sand
Her need to be needed
Is the biggest need of all
And one that is long overdue
The touch of this woman’s woman is all but entrancing
Her skin turns warm in my hand
Her hair lays gently about her neckline
Patiently waiting for fingers to slowly slide through
The smell of her body is the most alluring sent of all
Intoxicating
Enthralling
Gripping me tightly
So much so I feel dizzy
Confused in the most clear minded way
Perfectly honed this woman’s woman is
With a touch as soft as a cool morning breeze
A touch that only one can feel
Waking me from a long sad slumber
Opening my heart like the flowers of spring
Bringing me to a state of short breaths a taking
Is this woman’s woman’s woman
Published at Books On Blog Sep 17, 2011 From the Book of poems called : Don’t Get It Twisted
Over and over again
Again and again over and over
Honestly looking into her soul
With eyes that see into the depths of her existence
Seeing the raw power of heartbeats a beating
In the most wonderful way
Spinning in a world brought on by her need
Her need for the woman’s woman inside her to feel love
To be heard
For someone to walk quietly beside her and listen to all she has to say
To comfort her fears
Wash them away
Like the sea gently brushing footprints in the sand
Her need to be needed
Is the biggest need of all
And one that is long overdue
The touch of this woman’s woman is all but entrancing
Her skin turns warm in my hand
Her hair lays gently about her neckline
Patiently waiting for fingers to slowly slide through
The smell of her body is the most alluring sent of all
Intoxicating
Enthralling
Gripping me tightly
So much so I feel dizzy
Confused in the most clear minded way
Perfectly honed this woman’s woman is
With a touch as soft as a cool morning breeze
A touch that only one can feel
Waking me from a long sad slumber
Opening my heart like the flowers of spring
Bringing me to a state of short breaths a taking
Is this woman’s woman’s woman
Published at Books On Blog Sep 17, 2011 From the Book of poems called : Don’t Get It Twisted
Poem : Came To Be
Making up stories from the pictures in a book
From the books I could not read
But being up against it early on wasn’t all that bad
My outlet became art, this was my purpose
My constant
Always with a smile folks would say, man you sure are creative
I replied, no, I just grew up poor
For imagination keeps your sprit alive
When your body has long since gave out
Sold and broken to pay for minimum wage housing
Where you don’t walk out the door at night
Where candied apples are made from government tickets for eating
Then sold for cash to buy liquor and cigarettes
Cigarettes that were flamed to ward off the worry of living
Exhaled smoke that drifts in the night
But you can climb out of what hell hole you’ve been given
For a shovel is a great motivational teacher
Making you think, how do I change my life
Change for the better
Change by reading every book in sight
Callused hands shuffling flash cards
Spelling was the unspoken viper coiled and ready to strike
Anything can come to the ones that will work for it
Obstacles only exist in your mind
Published at Books On Blog Sep 17, 2011 From the Book of poems called : Don’t Get It Twisted
From the books I could not read
But being up against it early on wasn’t all that bad
My outlet became art, this was my purpose
My constant
Always with a smile folks would say, man you sure are creative
I replied, no, I just grew up poor
For imagination keeps your sprit alive
When your body has long since gave out
Sold and broken to pay for minimum wage housing
Where you don’t walk out the door at night
Where candied apples are made from government tickets for eating
Then sold for cash to buy liquor and cigarettes
Cigarettes that were flamed to ward off the worry of living
Exhaled smoke that drifts in the night
But you can climb out of what hell hole you’ve been given
For a shovel is a great motivational teacher
Making you think, how do I change my life
Change for the better
Change by reading every book in sight
Callused hands shuffling flash cards
Spelling was the unspoken viper coiled and ready to strike
Anything can come to the ones that will work for it
Obstacles only exist in your mind
Published at Books On Blog Sep 17, 2011 From the Book of poems called : Don’t Get It Twisted
Poem : The Mighty Trees Of The City
The cold wind brings the last freeze of winter
The last frost of a bitter spring morning crunches under my feet
I watch as the sun reflects a thousand colors of light off an icy ground
Starting my day of work in what’s left of this ancient forest of trees
The forest that lives in the city that no one stops to see
Or what’s left of the forest after the city’s moved into where it once stood
Giant trees that survived the roads and bulldozers
Mans quest for bigger and better
Mans greed
Yet, just a few rings in their massive trunks of time
Growth rings that stretch through a century here, a century there
Rings from a time when their kind were many and man was few
From stone axe to chainsaw
From campsites and tribes of few
To suburbs and real estate signs of many
Somehow these giants still stand amongst us
The buildings and cars
The roads of hot oily asphalt poured all around them
Forcing their roots to dive deeper for life giving water
Or to push up the bump in the road
The crack in the walk
Fighting to survive surrounded by the city of concrete
The Mighty Trees I see
Published at Books On Blog Sep 17, 2011 From the Book of poems called: Don’t Get It Twisted
The last frost of a bitter spring morning crunches under my feet
I watch as the sun reflects a thousand colors of light off an icy ground
Starting my day of work in what’s left of this ancient forest of trees
The forest that lives in the city that no one stops to see
Or what’s left of the forest after the city’s moved into where it once stood
Giant trees that survived the roads and bulldozers
Mans quest for bigger and better
Mans greed
Yet, just a few rings in their massive trunks of time
Growth rings that stretch through a century here, a century there
Rings from a time when their kind were many and man was few
From stone axe to chainsaw
From campsites and tribes of few
To suburbs and real estate signs of many
Somehow these giants still stand amongst us
The buildings and cars
The roads of hot oily asphalt poured all around them
Forcing their roots to dive deeper for life giving water
Or to push up the bump in the road
The crack in the walk
Fighting to survive surrounded by the city of concrete
The Mighty Trees I see
Published at Books On Blog Sep 17, 2011 From the Book of poems called: Don’t Get It Twisted
Friday, March 2, 2012
Easels
Easels in the meadow
Van Gogh on the hill
Memories of madness swirl in the blood red sky
Razor in one hand, ear in the other
For the whisperers spoke too loudly at times
Adjustments had to be made
Tone down
Tune out the racing of the mind
Sunflowers wilting, withering without water, while the artist transferred them to canvas
Locked them forever in layers of paint
Smearing them back to life with his bristled stick brush
Blurry bright colors bursting with energy
Creativity dripping from each drop of the painting
Raining with life
Flooding out of his mind
The creative floodgates did open
For the artist understands time is just what it is
Time
It’s quickly running out with each second wasted
But slowing to a craw with each second lived
Moving way before man started counting it
Moving, just moving
Is all it’s ever done
Whether we’re here or not
But the artist is a master at feeling the moment
Feeling all the intensity of the world that’s around him
A second lived was more than others live in a lifetime
Van Gogh the painter of the people
Lived one brushstroke at a time
Published at The Camel Saloon 10, 16, 2011
Van Gogh on the hill
Memories of madness swirl in the blood red sky
Razor in one hand, ear in the other
For the whisperers spoke too loudly at times
Adjustments had to be made
Tone down
Tune out the racing of the mind
Sunflowers wilting, withering without water, while the artist transferred them to canvas
Locked them forever in layers of paint
Smearing them back to life with his bristled stick brush
Blurry bright colors bursting with energy
Creativity dripping from each drop of the painting
Raining with life
Flooding out of his mind
The creative floodgates did open
For the artist understands time is just what it is
Time
It’s quickly running out with each second wasted
But slowing to a craw with each second lived
Moving way before man started counting it
Moving, just moving
Is all it’s ever done
Whether we’re here or not
But the artist is a master at feeling the moment
Feeling all the intensity of the world that’s around him
A second lived was more than others live in a lifetime
Van Gogh the painter of the people
Lived one brushstroke at a time
Published at The Camel Saloon 10, 16, 2011
 |
| Painting by Vincent van Gogh |
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Poem : Teardrops Of The Soul
Teardrops of the soul fall in the most honest of ways
Plummet from your eyes with joy filled emotion
For, nothing that is true could ever be hidden
Hidden by a smile saying, all is what it must seem
Seem to the watching
The watching gaze that caged you for much too long
Locked you away from the happiness of having
For bars of stress are far worse than bars steel
But one day your lock was finally broken
Your tears cut through the strongest words from the chaining
Binding your spirit no more
For, teardrops of happiness drop with such beauty
Such strength
Falling diamonds from your eye screaming with whispers of joy
Whispers of freedom shouting from your insides laying softly on your out
Like a shawl of the shoulders holding you warmly
Shaking your world with the slightest of ease
At last you see freedom in the new eyes that behold you
Dripping from the eye, yet streaming from your heart
Dripping to the pool of consciousness
Smashing the pools surface with the softest of weeps
For weeps of happiness have the power to pierce the hardest surface
Creating waves in your mirrored refection
Distorting the face looking back up at you
The waves will finally fall into ripples
Settled are these waters of change
Gentle is the reflection from the pool right below you
As your face comes into focus and your teardrops stop falling
You see the new you looking up from the water
A new life for the having has finally come
Published at Dead Snakes 11-18-2011
Plummet from your eyes with joy filled emotion
For, nothing that is true could ever be hidden
Hidden by a smile saying, all is what it must seem
Seem to the watching
The watching gaze that caged you for much too long
Locked you away from the happiness of having
For bars of stress are far worse than bars steel
But one day your lock was finally broken
Your tears cut through the strongest words from the chaining
Binding your spirit no more
For, teardrops of happiness drop with such beauty
Such strength
Falling diamonds from your eye screaming with whispers of joy
Whispers of freedom shouting from your insides laying softly on your out
Like a shawl of the shoulders holding you warmly
Shaking your world with the slightest of ease
At last you see freedom in the new eyes that behold you
Dripping from the eye, yet streaming from your heart
Dripping to the pool of consciousness
Smashing the pools surface with the softest of weeps
For weeps of happiness have the power to pierce the hardest surface
Creating waves in your mirrored refection
Distorting the face looking back up at you
The waves will finally fall into ripples
Settled are these waters of change
Gentle is the reflection from the pool right below you
As your face comes into focus and your teardrops stop falling
You see the new you looking up from the water
A new life for the having has finally come
Published at Dead Snakes 11-18-2011
Poem : Love
Like a whirl wind a whirling
Love gently turns your world upside down
Shakes you a bit
Yourself is a shaking in the kindest of ways
Tossed about by the hormones a tossing
Love
In the darkness two heartbeats are beating
Pounding with speed from their embrace in the night
So lightly a drag from fingernails a dragging
Makes shivers shiver ever so softly
Gently right down my spine
Like a tattoo on the skin of stinging hot flesh
The endorphins rush is almost to much to bear
Love
Like a thousand love lines of a thousand love letters
As much passion drips from the last word of the last line
As the first word of the first line
For the power of love is as blind as the blinded
For it sees no boundaries
No marks scratched in sand
Love
It follows no rules made by the making
For the making seldom feel love at all
So if love sneaks up with tiptoes of quiet
Take it for all that it is
For it might not come back for a long, long time
So hold it tight
Never let it go
Published at The Rainbow Rose 9-13-2011
Love gently turns your world upside down
Shakes you a bit
Yourself is a shaking in the kindest of ways
Tossed about by the hormones a tossing
Love
In the darkness two heartbeats are beating
Pounding with speed from their embrace in the night
So lightly a drag from fingernails a dragging
Makes shivers shiver ever so softly
Gently right down my spine
Like a tattoo on the skin of stinging hot flesh
The endorphins rush is almost to much to bear
Love
Like a thousand love lines of a thousand love letters
As much passion drips from the last word of the last line
As the first word of the first line
For the power of love is as blind as the blinded
For it sees no boundaries
No marks scratched in sand
Love
It follows no rules made by the making
For the making seldom feel love at all
So if love sneaks up with tiptoes of quiet
Take it for all that it is
For it might not come back for a long, long time
So hold it tight
Never let it go
Published at The Rainbow Rose 9-13-2011
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