6:38 PM – A Sonnet for Libby

sweet

I remember a time when I a lad,

the first time, that I could call me a dad,

The hour forever emblazoned in my mind

this precious human being, now remind

me that actual miracles occur.

I knew my own tears when first I held her,

lovely eyes that shine blue today as bright

as that first moment in the early night.

A passionate mind, she became strong willed

every interaction her heart fulfilled.

The future now ahead of you my dear

A father’s wish to know your gains are near.

The world will follow sweet child’s love for peace

I forever will ‘love you to piece(s)’

Poetry Read … shameless plug

Hello Everyone, one of my poems was read on a public radio station in Berkeley … the show is called ‘Cover to Cover’ and hosted by another published poet in the May Anthology,

http://www.silverbirchpress.com/may_anthology.html

published by Silver Birch Press … here is the link, mine comes around 17:05 into the file. Sorry, for the shameless plug, this is just new to me, and kinda cool. :)

http://www.kpfa.org/archive/id/105824

 

 

Outside Mirrors

When that moment cannot be seen

unable to define

why a surreal feeling exists

what cannot be imagined

cannot be discussed

only somehow want to crawl

deep inside

yet, the shelter of fear

simply won’t allow anyone to realize

the pain that exists inside.

~

My own quiet space

she said to me

soft autumn morning,

twirling her hair in fingertips

a regular thing,

a so cool, lovely

thing.

~

Then today,

the storms that lie at bay,

waiting to explode

only kept under wraps,

feeding the confusion,

while she struggles to know,

he simply steps outside

of his own reflection,

letting her wander

in some rather stolid pit

of mystique,

certainly not the romantic kind.

If it were only that,

the day would seem far more

a mirrored response to her …

delightful elegance.

When Hope takes Holiday

Steve McCurry

Steve McCurry

The park seemed so attainable,

safe, reachable,

nothing sharp, or piercing,

only the equipment

that satisfied my eyes,

always,

morning through night,

hours of fun she said,

and insisted,

and prayed that I might,

then understand.

~

Before the storms arrived,

I knew my ground,

wished for fairy tale dreams,

while searching the skies

as my hair trailed on the sandy ground.

Peaceful and alive,

I knew I could do this forever,

and today I would,

for just out of her reach,

I felt the initial wave,

when the bombs dropped.

What Is Love?

Do you know,

I’m asking,

I need your help.

How rare to have a moment

to pause

to think

maybe imagine there are answers

outside of your comfort zone

outside of your comfort zone

outside of your usual way of thinking.

Instead of ‘you’¬†

let’s talk about me,

walk inside my world

and tell me what can be seen.

Is there love?

How can we tell what love really is

when our world cries out in fear

with every opportunity 

to share ideals, to share, to love.

Love,

to me becomes quiet,

soft, a caress, a knowing smile,

an ability to allow me,

to rest, to feel assured, to know I am …

ok.

Yet, in a world

where we are constantly

always, constantly,

you know,

just kind of so constantly

reminded

we don’t belong,

In a world where hate

is honored before we can …

love!

Drawn – Haiku # 542, Tapestry

wound with wild wonder

purposeful wrinkles display;

love, live, longing life

~

hold medium soft

let my hands melt in soft wrap

pastel will define

~

if life were a look

how might your finish appear

enough to delight

~

wound with quiet thread

my life beats to a new sound

every breath expires