That Melody

That melody's name escapes me
The way good dogs
Sometimes go off the chain.

Searching for the tune’s name
Rummaging mental files
Humming it to friends
Absorbs much time
Requires great thought
And results in extreme frustration
When no successful conclusion is reached.

Recovering that melody's lost name
Is like attempting to recall
The craters of the moon
From sheer memory
Is as remembrances stored
Through no criteria but aroma
Like the leathery smell
Of your first baseball mitt
But whose manufacturer's name is forgotten.

What is the name off that melody?

I can recall the names
Of every player on the ’68 Cubs.
I remember phone numbers of friends
From fifty years ago.
I remember the numbers on the sides
Of school busses in which I rode home from fifth grade
And the pattern of freckles across the nose
Of the girl I took to homecoming in 1970.

But I cannot remember the name of that melody!

Perhaps I will be jolted awake at three in the morning
With a victorious Ah hah!
But I doubt it.

It goes something like this…
Dah Dah Dah…Dah Dee Dah
Lah De Do….Dee Do Dee.
Does that sound familiar?

The car in which my parents
After my birth
Carried me home from the hospital
Was a burgundy 1950 Ford Custom Coupe
With a ding in its right rear fender.

Go figure.

No-Show*

I waited for you
Drinking coffee
Cup after cup
Until it was obvious
You were not coming.

The walk to the car
Felt far longer
Than it really was.

I sat a few minutes
Before turning the key.
Passersby seemed gloomy
Although I was certain
I was transposing my melancholy
Onto them.

The radio was playing a happy song
Seeming to taunt me.
I turned the radio off
And drove home silently.

You owe me nothing.
No explanation.
No apology.
No rescheduling.
Nothing.

Not much of value
Ever begins in coffee shops.


* The only real coffee shop date I ever had was actually very pleasant and animated, and many years in the past. Writing verse is odd. Sometimes the work that is produced is surprisingly different from actual experience.

Empty Coal Cars

The Burlington was on time
Its bright light gleaming
Where the tracks
Distantly joined.

Resting my bike in the tall grass
I carefully placed a bright ‘64 penny
On the rail nearest the blacktop
And awaited its metamorphosis.

The Burlington arrived as a thundering storm
Of energy and hurry.
I counted eighty seven
Empty coal cars
Pressing their tonnage
Onto my copper penny.

As the caboose chased the train
I retrieved the copper
A penny no more.
In its transformation
It was warm to touch
A misshapen blob as thin as paper
Made into a talisman of childhood.
In the draining days of innocence
I fingered that copper slug along with pocket change
Until it disappeared in the tumult of years.

I continued to put pennies on rails.
But not real pennies
And not real rails.
Rather, I placed newly minted hopes
Onto tracks extending into the questions of tomorrow.

Pennies, when pressed, lose value.
Hopes also flatten into unexpected shapes
Surprisingly thin.

I have not returned to the Burlington
And any pennies I have
Reside atop my dresser
Among nickels, dimes and quarters.

I have retired magic talismans
And all remaining hope
Is carefully secreted and silent.
Call it a casualty of expended youth
But I no longer press my luck.

Especially beneath the weight
Of empty coal cars.

I Wonder

I wonder
If she held me
Would I still feel the same?
I wonder
If she kissed me
Would I still feel the flame?

I wonder
If I touched her
Would she desire more?
I wonder
If I held her
Would she feel it in her core?

I wonder
If the years rolled away
Could we begin again?
I wonder
If we had a chance
Could we have what we had then?

I wonder
Why I can’t let go
And just let passion die?
I wonder
If I am destined
To wonder till I die?

Winter in Chicago

It rained all day Monday
A slow, steady rain
Turning everything beyond my window
A silvery pall
Colorless and monochrome.

By noon the gutters filled
And small geysers sprouted
From concrete and asphalt
Pooling in yards and fields.
It rained all night.

Tuesday morning the rain stopped
But thick fog shrouded
City, town and country.
People spoke softly.
Even traffic seemed mute.

Wednesday afternoon the temperature plunged
Into the teens.
By nightfall it was well below zero
Freezing standing water
Barren, iced tree limbs and corduroyed farm fields.

On Thursday I closed my drapery and curtains
Fearful the weather outside
Would corrupt the atmosphere inside.
But cloth is no barrier against icy force.
I chilled, then froze after the power lines fell.

By Friday morning
Everything in my spirit turned brittle
Hard and overwhelmed
Pooling like bruising limpidity
Through every molecule and atom.

By Saturday all thought fled
And I sat within my hovel
Resisting the need to peer outside
Fearful whatever hope remaining
Would evaporate in dismal collaboration with winter.

On Sunday the sun appeared!
Ice began to melt. Power was restored!
Standing water soon flowed down the streets
And I stepped outside with arms outstretched
Absorbing renewed hope in the heart of Chicago.

On Monday it rained again.

Hummingbird

I took a chair in the corner
Where I was certain
She would not notice me.

Sitting by the fire
Hair backlit in its glow
She appeared angelic.

Her movements were gentle
Features delicate
Wordlessly gazing into the fire.

It seemed I was watching a hummingbird
Taking nectar at a flower
Beautiful to behold, too soon gone.

I would have studied her all evening
But gathering her things
She departed for her room.

Her name, unknown to me
Would forever remain a mystery.
She was a hummingbird; the angel by the fire.

April Promise

Across these ravaged hills
It’s a long walk back home
But if I ever get there again
I ain’t never gonna roam.

I’ll sleep by my own fire.
I’ll lay down with my own wife.
If I ever get home again
I’m gonna make us a new life.

I'm gonna dream a better dream.
I'm gonna shed this old nightmare.
I'm gonna learn a better way.
I'm gonna pray a better prayer.

I’m gonna forget these bloody years.
I’ll lay my burden down.
If I ever get home again
I’ll never leave my little town.

This war has been a nightmare.
I’m gonna take off these old rags
And if I ever get home again
Ain’t never gonna salute another flag.

Say My Name

You can tell me what you need
And I’ll listen all night long.
You can tell me that you love me
Even put it in a song.

You can tell me all your dreams
And show me how you live.
You can open all your treasures
And give all that you can give.

But let me ask you, baby
If, to you, it’s all the same
All I’m really needing
Is that you say my name.

You can whisper words of love
And promise me you’ll never go.
You can hold onto me tightly
But there’s only one thing I must know.

Does my name rest lightly on you?
Or does it flare in you like flame?
Do you really want to love me?
Please, baby, say my name.

Lovers make many promises.
They craft words that sound so sweet.
But let’s be honest, baby
Their flames contain no heat.

Lovers say their love’s eternal.
They say they’ll suffer every pain.
They believe what they are saying
But they are storm clouds without rain.

Just let me ask you, baby
If, to you, it’s all the same
All I’m really needing
Is that you say my name.

Rescued*

I have a little dog.
He’s no more than ankle high.
He was beaten and abandoned
Until I happened by.

I took him home
Fed him, and gave him a bath
Provided him shelter
From some fool’s wrath.

That little dog loves me.
He thinks I’m a king.
I believe, if he could
That little dog would sing.

Here’s the truth, people
If you’ve read me this far...
We all are broken
Beaten and scarred.

But the Father loves you
And welcomes you in
His family, and kingdom
If you’ll turn from your sin.

He found me and loved me
A long time ago.
He washed away my sins
And made me whiter than snow.

Like I did my little dog
God rescued me too.
He will do the very same always...
Even for you.


*This is as simple as I can make it; my proclamation of faith. If you have not called upon Jesus for rescue, I urge you to do so right now. If you will, you will be amazed at his amazing love. Turn from your past sinful life, and ask his forgiveness. Invite him into your heart. His love for you is boundless, and his provision is sure.

P.S..."Buddy" is all healed up, clean and happy. He sleeps under my arm every night...but if a stranger gets between him and me, that stranger will taste the fury of little Buddy. He would die for me. But that will never be necessary. He has yet to learn who is the Protector and who is the Protectee.

Vet's Tutorial

Son, those old colors there
Hanging on my wall
Are more than just rags.
They help me stand tall.

My great grand daddy carried them
At Gettysburg, with Meade.
In Cuba, Gramps did the same
Before he was shot off his steed.

My uncle fought with Pershing
In the Great War.
He was mortared and gassed
But he knew what he died for.

Pa was with Bradley
Through Belgium and France.
Outside Aachen he was wounded
With the 2rd Armored’s advance.

I carried that flag, too
In Vietnam’s battle of Hue.
I come out pretty scared
But I’m mostly okay.

My son serves that flag now
Somewhere near Kabul.
I say he’s a hero
Though you call him a fool.

So boy, don’t you come around here
Disrespecting that flag.
When you do, I gotta big truck
Needing something to drag.

Climb Jacob’s Ladder

I done forgot
What I came here for.
Soon as I took a stool
I turned for the door.

Nothin’ here for me
But lonely heartache.
These pleasures ain’t real
They’re illusions, they’re fake.

All them delights
That brighten a bar
Ain’t but a candle
Compared to a star.

Reckon I’ll ride
Get shed of this town.
Out there the prairie dogs
Won’t let me down.

Gonna sleep in the open
Where nothin’ much matters
Fall asleep on the prairie
Maybe climb Jacob’s Ladder.

Intruding Pain *

Often deep in the night
There are moments in life
That pain will intrude
And cut like a knife.

Its blade will slash
Will slice, chop and pierce
Like the claws of a lion
Frightful, lethal and fierce.

Though pain come in manifold ways
It divides soul from spirit
Cause you to weep and to beg
To squirm, scream and fear it.

Pain is a thief, a killer and thug.
It will dismantle your joy
Make you crave death
As it plays you like its toy.

You may bargain with God.
You may cry to the skies.
You may shudder and quake.
You may reduce to whimpering sighs.

Sometimes there is little left you
But take courage and be strong.
Though pain may be cruel
It must not stay for long.



* To those who suffer....eighteen years ago I survived a massive intracranial bleed. It nearly took my life. I continue to struggle with severe pain, but it's managed with strong medication, and prayer, accompanied by meditative technique. These all work to manage the effects of pain, or at least make its occurrence more brief. Nevertheless, pain sometimes gains a purchase in my body (like now). When pain grows stubborn, and the battle becomes desperate, I have discovered that, if I do the inner work, pain can make me a stronger, sweeter version of my old self. I empathize with you, if you suffer. My prayer for you is that pain diminish quickly, but when it endures, make you a better, more determined person.

Nights By My Fire

I swear there’s nights
When I squat by my fire
I can almost hear
That heavenly choir.

All the host of angels
Look down at my camp
Chase away chills
And dry up the damp.

It’s those times I know
How lucky I am
And it gentles my soul
Like a little ewe lamb.

If you figure you could use
A course in the divine
Settle into a night prairie
And you'll get a new bottom line.

Nearly Just Enough

These old boots
Kicked a lot of rocks
Spurred many a horse
Worn out a lot of socks.

This old hat
Turned a lot of rain
Took a lot of wind
Covers my tiny brain.

These old gloves
Strung a lot of wire
Held a lot of reins
Fed many a fire.

This old belt
Held up a lot of jeans
Threatened a little butt
If you know what that means.

This old shirt
Is faded by a lot of sun
Stained by a lot of sweat
And it's just begun.

All the rig
A cowpoke wears
He sports to church
And even state fairs.

All the stuff he puts on
Gets softer with years
Except for his body
That gets hardened by steers.

You’ll never find him
Dressed in citified stuff.
He knows he’s blessed
With nearly just enough!