I Wish I'd Said that #9...

Things work out for the best for those who make the best of the way things work out.

~~ Anonymous   

Against the Zephyr

Against the Zephyr

I remember your glistening hair
Reflecting bright sun shafts
Long and loosed
Describing the whims of the wind.

As a younger man
I stood alone in golden wheat lands
Hands spread against the zephyr.
I had not remembered that

Until now

With your soft strands wafting free.
Free like Tibetan prayer flags
Seeking divine eyes to see
To know and understand.

How I wish I understood
Knew you.
I would have furled your hair
Tamed your wild heart
And planted surrender
In your tender soil.

But I was afraid.
Afraid you would fly
Like the wind that chased you.

I cannot pass a wheat field
Or standing corn
Swaying in summer winds
And not see you again
Your long hair loosed
And flying free.

I Wish I'd Said That #8.....

How like a serpent's tooth is a thankless child.

~~ Shakespeare, in King Lear

Over You*

There’s a lesson here to learn

For the man who can discern

And don’t intend to burn:

Oh, I gotta tell you boys

Don’t be playin’ with her toys

Or listenin’ to her noise.

No matter what they say

They’ll always make you pay

And  you’re a dead man anyway.

I’m fixin’ to tell you true

That’s what women do

Once they set their eye on you.

So…..

If you wanna save your life

Don’t take a singer for your wife

Or they’ll be singin’ lamentations

Over you.

If you wanna save your life

Don’t take a barmaid for your wife

Or they’ll be liftin’ a whiskey

Over you.

If you wanna save your life

Don’t take a salesgirl for your wife

Or they’ll be figuring up a talley

Over you.

If you wanna save your life

Don’t take a cowgirl for your wife

Or they’ll be kickin’ a bronc up

Over you.

Oh, listen to me men

And I’ll tell you once again

If you wanna save your life

Don’t take no sweet thing for you wife

Or they’ll be planting a gravestone

Over you!


*You know I'm just kidding. Maybe. (I have been married a couple times, and I'm just doing my bit to light the path).

The Plow*

It was just a fallow field
Home to mice and crow.
What it could become
Nobody seemed to know.

The field froze every winter
It lay scorched by summer suns
Untouched for many seasons
It beckoned a tiller come.

Then clods were broken up
The soil cut wide and deep
And the field began to wake
From a hundred years of sleep.

Seeds were sewn in rows
And rains birthed wondrous life
Once the field was planted
After yielding to the knife.

So like fields are we.
Our soil must be turned.
The pain of plowing hurts
But the seed of life is earned.

It’s amazing how glory comes
No one knows why or how
But increase comes in bushels
When miracles follow the plow.


*In tribute to A.W. Tozer; a man who yielded his life to the plow.

Just Another Dog

I heard the wailing of a weary soul.

It had a pleading that I couldn’t know.

But it was just another dog in the wind

And I reckon I’ll never see him again.

She was a little girl by the side of the road.

I could tell by looking she carried a heavy load.

But she was just another dog in the wind

And I reckon I’ll never see her again.

I saw a boy that walked every street in town.

He never looked up and always looked down.

But he was just another dog in the wind

And I reckon I’ll never see him again.

She was a woman with a certain look in her eyes

And I was taken by her smile and her lies.

But she was just another dog in the wind

And I reckon I’ll never see her again.

I saw my face in the mirror, haggard and lost.

That’s the price that I paid, it’s the cost.

But I’m just another dog in the wind

And I reckon you'll never see me again.

Gazebo

Gazebo

We sat in the gazebo
On the city square
Rain falling
In an all-day
Soaker
But we were oblivious
Each charmed by the company
Of the other.

Passersby hurried
With umbrellas
Or newspapers
Lifted above their heads.

The pooling rain
Erupted into tiny geysers.

We spoke of family
Dreams of the future
Hopes for the present
All falling between us
Pooling and erupting
Like rain
Time passing
Like pedestrians
Fleeing the mizzle.

Sequestered by the weather
Nobody willing or wanting
To share the space we occupied
The hours passed
Until the day’s color
Faded to monochrome
With the early setting
Of the autumn sun
Beyond the thickening clouds.

Nothing came of the dreams
Like the rain
Running down gutters
Into streams
Toward rivers
To the sea.

Rains fall
Days fade
Rivers run
And dreams flee.

But memories pool.

Coffee Kiss

Your coffee kiss steams my mouth
Burns my throat
Warms my belly.
I swallow you
Feel you extend to
Arms
Hands
Legs
Feet.

An awakening flow
You slosh my loins
Splash my chest
Sigh from my throat

Content
Satisfied
Alive
Full-bodied
Finely ground
And flavored
To my taste.

Red Balloon

Red Balloon 

Trying to remember the curve
Of your lips
The graceful shell of your ears
Blush of sun on your cheeks
All I could envision was
An invention of my imagination:
The ascent of a red balloon
Rising against the china blue
Of an April morning.

Eyes shut hard
I persisted
Firm in the belief
That I could recall every detail of your body
Freckles and moles
The hollow at the base of your throat
Grace of your breasts
Swell of your thighs
Flat plain of your stomach
Abundance of auburn hair
Cascading around your gentle shoulders.

But, all I could see
On the screen of my mind
Was the red balloon
Darting, diving
Regaining altitude in persistent departure
Moment by moment further from me.

On it climbed
Until, as brilliant punctuation
In the sky of that beautiful spring morning
The pressure from within exceeded that from without
And it was gone.

What I needed of you was falling
In bits of twisting
Red pieces.

And I came to understand that some things

Are past retrieving.

I try to gather you with words
Structuring nouns and daubing verbs
But it is futile.

The more of you I gather
The less of you I have.

The pressure from within
Exceeded that from without
And you were gone.

Sweet Wood

Sweet Wood

Chips and bits of lumber
Tumbled through the afternoon sun.
Gold and gleaming pine dust
Fragranced the air
As dad ripped lumber
For the next day’s work
The saw blade spinning and screaming
The tortured complaint
Painful to my ears.

Strange that memory falls upon me
As I watch you spin away
The bits and chips of what
I knew as love
Flying and falling
Through the morning air
My soul screaming
Screeching
Words slashing
And sore.

I carry
The marriage
Of those memories
Like pictures in a wallet
The union of dad at his saw
And you turning like the blade
Shredding and tearing
The sweet woody pulp
At my core.

The Thundering Dark

Two o’clock in the morning
Thunder rattles the panes
Vibrating bottles of perfume and cologne
Loosely arranged on the dresser.

My eyes fix on a point
Deep in the night.
Her presence flavors the room
Steady breathing at my side
Her right leg thrown across my thigh
Pinning me to the sheets.

My mind is already at my desk
Making mental notes
Of tasks needing completion
Calls to make
Files to close.
But she’s so distracting
Inviting
All the pleasures of the flesh
The joy of the shaking night.

Just a nudge would wake her
The trace of a fingertip across her throat
Kiss upon her chin
A promise waiting the welcome.

In the kitchen my cup waits.
Hot, strong coffee will steam
In just four hours
When I will miss the sleep
That eludes me now
With her leg
Thrown over me
So inviting
In the thundering dark.

I Wish I'd Said That #7...

If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.

~~ Carl Sagan

A Little Three Light Town

Three in the morning 
All the traffic lights were green
In the little three light town. 
Every store was shuttered
Every door securely locked 
And the angels all look down.

Three more hours till sunup

When the coffee cups get filled

And Sarah will tie her apron on.

The papers have all been delivered

And eggs will be on the grill.

That’s when Sarah wishes she were gone.

Every morning’s the same

In her little three light town

Where every week’s focus is football.

The old men sit and talk their talk

And Sarah forces them a smile

And wonders again why he didn’t call.

The angels all look down

In Sarah’s little three light town.

She punches out at two every afternoon

And walks back home

To lay across her single bed

And hopes he may call soon.

The sun sets and the street lights glow

In the little three light town.

Sarah goes to bed at eleven

And wishes he had called.

But maybe he will tomorrow

And wouldn’t that be heaven.

The angels all look down

When Sarah ties her apron on at six

And pours the old men their coffee.

She thinks he may call today.

But it’s just a little three light town

And only the watching angels can see.

Felt the Blade

If you've never stood at midnight
In a summer cotton field
You've never felt the sorrow
That such a field may yield.

And if you've never seen a fire
Lick up all a family's things
You've never felt the horror
That such a tragedy brings.

And if you've never seen a woman
That's been raped and brutalized
Then you've never felt the pain
That can be seen within her eyes.

And if you've never been at a grave
That's waiting to be filled
Then you've never felt the fear
Of those waiting to be killed.

And if you've never taken time
To see the darker side of life
Then you've never felt the blade
That slices like a knife.

Other Dreams

I offered her indigo

For refuge

But she insisted

On yellow or red.

I offered her

Tenderness

And a safe place

To lay her head.

She simply wanted wild

And adventure.

At least that’s what

She said.

I offered her my heart

As the best gift I had

But she wanted thrill

And that messed up my head.

I hoped to make love to her

To offer all I was

But she just wanted sex

And made playground of my bed.

I wanted far too much

More than she could give

So I opened up my door

To let her chase other dreams instead.

Workin' on When

I’m goin' home
To a place I’ve never been. 
I’m way past why 
Just workin’ now on when.

Gotta a room in that place

Somewhere past the stars.

Gonna  swing by the moon

Headin’ out way beyond Mars.

So, don't wait on me.

No need bein' late.

I'm goin' soon.

I'll meet you at the gate.

New Day*

The well is dry 
And try as I may 
I no longer cry 
No matter the day.

My quiver is empty

I’ve arrows no longer

And though that may be

I think I’m the stronger.

My prayers are brief

But I know they are heard.

In times of great grief

Notions they aren’t  is absurd.

It’s a whole new game

At this time of life.

No one is to blame

Though it cuts like a knife.

Say farewell and walk away.

I am going a little farther.

I am seeking a whole new day

In the land of my Father.


*Another passing of time, and ultimate surrender poem. My mind seems stuck. But this too shall pass.