Been Away Again

Just yesterday I realized

I needed to come home again,

I have been away for such a long time,

I travel alone, yet the miles are forever.

Remember that time you asked why,

I cried in front of everyone then,

I laughed afterward when alone

I could easily go away, gone again.

While the skies begin to slowly green

I watch the world around me

I see them all living their lives,

I wonder if they’d even recognize …

I might need to go away then, again,

that’s when soon the departure began.

Good Night Wordsmith

The clock seeks the hour to change the day,

yet left here alone in the repose of hours gone by,

remind me of this time again,

this (winter) of discontent,

that somewhere in our universe

there were the start,

the repeat,

the accentuation,

of words,

that wordsmith,

the Bard might celebrate

with a pint,

unknowing he would be

revered

in study and emulation

in rhythm and human condition

to raise an eyebrow upon

every role we adventure,

centuries later.

One More

Always that last moment,

when just before the landslide,

our footing grabs hold with a sort of, almost

what if, reality.

Soft is the response,

initially,

all of the unknown tragedy

will be left behind,

swept underneath the miles of concrete

laid along the way,

a surface texture,

that when imagined in a different time,

contains the soul of our reality,

that piece of almost,

that notion that suggests despair

isn’t always a necessary option,

unless,

well there is that second guessing target of

afterthought,

the piece of our world,

always waiting to suggest,

we weren’t wrong,

just way to quick to ask forgiveness.

Not what I mean really,

I know forgiveness,

yet, the territorial nature of my fears,

often impede my ability

to truly understand why.

I can never underestimate the power

of knowing why,

before I forget the reasons …

I still imagine you nearby with passionate eyes!

Time Release

Inside a profound fog,

the sort that speaks,

silent as a breeze,

noticeable along the way,

are the many realities we sometimes,

try to pretend away.

~

Walking alone I might understand,

there is little nearby to disturb my pace,

yet my same state of mind,

wants to survive inside the maelstrom

of a city sidewalk during lunch hour.

~

When time allows our lives,

to pause,

to brief respond to the ills,

to make a moment feel alive,

when clarity seems easily

attained.

~

When did all the clouds go away,

the visible atmosphere in sudden motion,

carefully drawn across a midwestern landscape.

Then how will a crystal blue sky

ever make it possible to imagine,

there once were shadows,

created nearby,

when lives seemed to exist alone.

~

Time release my soul to pray, in laughter,

while the ills I spent hours fearing, slowly …

On Cloudy Afternoon

Measure the moment we respond

to that which attracts our eye

skies may be cloudy beyond

while we examine questions why.

~

While we examine questions why

our eyes will well up in a flash

a quick glance a memory we espy

our soul-searching ringlet sash

~

our soul-searching ringlet sash

provides a lofty circumstance

one hopes may quick to dash

tying bonds our lives by chance.

~

tying bonds our lives by chance

we walk inside a dream as child

step out without an easy glance

to know today we’re now the wild

~

to know today we’re now the wild

asked to be what we might lend

somewhat less now, more the child

yet that is all we might defend.

~

A cloudy wind-swept afternoon in May,

I recall this moment just another way.

When I Was Seventeen

I remember driving my old car to school,

picking up a couple of friends,

driving out into the country,

smoking a bowl or two …

~

I remember the little things I cared about,

were simple and sort of cost free,

I could swing a bargain if I needed to,

just slipping by in my quiet reality.

~

I remember not having any clue at all,

that I might feel the very same today.

Walking Path

We walk rather than run

to remain calm, save energy,

to let those outside our world

recognize our own responsibility

to shadow peace.

Yet when on occasion

I see a path ahead,

I’d like to run as fast,

perhaps like the gazelle

who runs away looking

afraid of his own shadow,

only likely afraid of me.

I wonder if I went for it,

a full out sprint to reach

the other end of the path,

how excited would I be,

to realize when breathless

in a gradual pause,

I’m not quite ready at all,

to reach that other end.