Category Archives: 10 to 17 February Afternoons
The Heavens appear As the cloud cover dissipates. Full Moon Rising in the valley Of mountain peaks. Light— Reflecting on calm river. Fog forms veils On the valley floor— Eerily midnight approaches; April Full Moon.
Wherever I go, It remains so. . . At my side You walk, In my mind We talk.
Today a feeling has possessed me Of Life and a Love For Man and Nature. A calm understanding grows In a body Which a disturbed restlessness Once called home.
The creative castle contains Uncountable passageways Leading to hallways And unopened doors. A random selection Has been the key.
Unable for so long to smile— Tense facial muscles ache, Yes one’s heart has grown Three fold. The body relaxes From previously unthinkable And unknown tensions.
Poetry is flowing today; Thoughts of John Keats Not so far away— Neither in his verse Nor of his time, But writing only to release Others so they may find A smile on their lips And no fear in the … Continue reading
It is now winter; The end— The beginning— And an avalanche of thought For everyone.
Help is coming— It is in your mind If you stop your games And find the time. And if you look You still can see Your non-existence Must cease to be.
Its flame is a unifying force, Illuminating the once dark, Giving dimension to technopomorphic entities, Bringing light and undulating shadows To once bleak walls. It opens your eyes for you see, It is your heart and soul, For you feel … Continue reading
White caps appear between the grey Of the free and angry sea, As I stand with hands pocket deep Tasting the salt spray on my lips. Wind blown tresses cover my face. Whisking them away I feel the flame of … Continue reading
Living life In a dream of oneness for all. We touch with our heart While feeling with our soul, For we are together On the cold and long road Of our dreams.
We become strangers to each other And also to our selves. Our paths have strayed Although we are together. Friendly bonds grow To become what they will. A painful re-acquaintance is undertaken, For we stand at the crossroads— Of love?
A stranger walked into town, A dog at his side And pack on his back. He inquired of the townsfolk, Receiving only cold long stares And no reply, For no one could look This man directly in the eye.
We have passed this way before On our journey to the lake. We have seen the rapids, The falls and the pools Of life, Of Man, Yet we continue our trek For the cycle Never ends.
I want to taste your love As together we become one In the warmth and security Of each other’s arms and bodies. While two days will be eternal to us We shall experience all in total. All will end, but … Continue reading
Tomorrow—a new day To be dealt with as we will. A new life’s door is before us, Yet we open yesterdoor Without thought In the habit of our ways.
Leaving our footprints In the sands of time We walk till sunset Your hand in mine.
We hold the key To see the light Of our past failures, Yet we stumble through the darkness Of daylight Without noticing Our shortcomings.
I sit with autumn Entering the prairie, While spring is Eternally reborn. A tear momentarily Distorts perspective For departure Looms on the horizon.
The time has been reached, The limit surpassed, For the games of old Reoccur at last. You try so hard, Though you’ve failed before To bridge the stream And open the door.
Far away the children play In a world shrouded in innocence. Let them play— And learn to deal with life.
Yellow dandelions Dot a sea of green; Walking in a field As if in a dream. A bird sings a love song So new, so sweet, Ushering in spring As the sun warms Your cold, bare feet.
Dreams built on sand Crumble before our eyes And we cannot understand Why it is so. . . . Dreams cascade Like waterfalls From a sky of rock.
Windy is the night. The storms of passion Turned out the lights And the love and the dreams Of Two. Grey clouds cover all In their world As the rains fall, Streaming down the cheeks Of Two.
Look in the mirror It will not lie. Answer the question— Look yourself Square in the eye. Look again, What do you see? Just a façade— Not your identity.
Live every day, May it be your last. Love every winging bird, Every blade of grass. The rain from the heavens, The warmth of the sun; Breathe and touch all life With Love and Affection Till your day is done.
The gift was not given For obligatory purposes On either side. Twas given denoting A temporary abundance On the part of the giver— Who knows, Later the tables may be turned.
The spigot will open gushing When the handle In your mind Is found.
Lurking as a shark Is the dog’s empty bark. It has pierced your soul For tis love she demands Not gravy in the bowl. She is not so unlike us In many ways, For like a child In her innocence … Continue reading
The owl has spoken His final piece As a token Of his inner peace. With ease flow his feelings While clear is his fear That the love he is giving May not last the year.
You tell me That by walking the same road, You see more each time. Possibly. . . Minute details appear That your mind was unable To comprehend the first, Second or third time. But does that logically erase The possibility … Continue reading
Tis your rhyme That transcends all time. Tis my mind To you I send this time.
Extinguish distractions Lighting your mind, Seek the answers And food for thought You shall find. Searching your depths Surpassing all time Peace can be found In life’s endless rhyme.
We all have crutches, It would be a lie to deny it. We must therefore decide Which are needed to keep Man On this side, Just above the line Between we and animals.
The history we hold so dear Study and dwell on is Rubbish quite clear And deserves that end. If we cannot learn From its sad tale We might as well burn In our hell, or Set Noah’s sail.
With strength of mind And purpose, One may Force the Seer To close his eyes In perplexing confusion, Thusly freeing The sixth sense From becoming Someone’s bondage, God and guiding light.
Most males are cold Unfeeling Individuals. . .? Possibly this explains An ability to relate to women And the feelings of love We have for them.
One cannot be held For his lack of consistency. We must be free thinkers— Always progressing. And if at any point We feel we know The absolute Truth for everything, We must And have an obligation to Write it down— … Continue reading
Creative thought— That which is progress Is found in the form of escape, or Whether it be daydreams or Balancing on the fence Between sleep and wake; for it is Sleep and Poetry.
In the city, Alone Becomes mechanical, For one must Turn off all The corruption And pollution.
I fondle you In my mind Only to feel Your existence And presence.
As long as We keep telling Ourselves Love and Compassion Are idealistic— They will remain such.
Another day Today As bright and fresh As any day ever. Today Is upon Us all.
After you begin Appreciating life In its entirety, People seem so busy In their trivialities— Usually involving money.
Until you sanely Define insanity, We cannot converse, For you become more than a Brick wall, With much Too much Antiquated cement Filling your cracks, Destroying your balance, Putting yourself On a collision course With your fate.
Your dreams Will come true When you— Dream them.
Anticipation In waiting— In loving— In living???
Standing— The metal bull Appears statue-like. For it is.
Feeling and flowing We became Though most think it Totally insane
Common sense, What is it? It was once a pamphlet, But now what?
Learning is quite simple— When you Slip through the reef Of despair And the barriers Of fear.
Do you fully understand— Your mind? ? ? ? ?
Mislaid Afterthoughts Bring new life To the afternoon.
Is it valid to Orderly push Ones mind— Milking it Expanding it Thinking. . . . Being?
There is no way They can completely understand us— For we have been experiencing A new perspective On life For years now.
For years we have acted And been treated like— Dogs. We are as free As the soaring eagle; As active as a Hummingbird, Yet we wallow in the mud Of our own making, like Hogs.
The treatment of love— So immature Is a cultural disease For which society Has no cure.
There were those we could not Communicate with then. There are those that still Cannot be reached, Yet some with which We are together For their knowledge That Communication transcends death.
Today Can I totally relate My inner feelings And experiences To You? I think not, But I must try. . . .
From the book 10 to 17 February Afternoons We have been alone too long— Frustrations caused by our inability To communicate with each other And Nature Have pushed us Over the edge Of living And feeling life.