Sunday Morning Ambience

Coffee nearby,

always seems a staple,

how we begin a new

state of mind.

We could recognize ourselves

as just part of the game,

yet,

there seem to be so many games afloat.

How do we choose,

the path,

when Frost spoke of least resistance,

how do we now return to his wall,

to decide just why we did

venture upon that side of the story,

argument, debate, cathartic

uprising in the mind.

Sit alone among the same,

sipping coffee,

a little tease of Guatemala,

here in my hometown,

where I can pretend,

by the click of simple keys,

I am going to take on a personal sojourn,

today is only one of many,

Sunday morning ambience,

leaves my soul with choice,

passion, desire, wants,

I want this today,

just let me figure it out on my own,

relax, sip, glance,

a sweet smile inside remains pensive,

those around need not know.

When You Arrive

Could you say hello,

remind them of a time and place,

when we would become men,

tell them we cannot forget

ever the tragedy,

the drudgery of being in a place

someone told us needed us to be there.

Yet could you please say hello,

I know that when I looked in her eyes,

when his smile reached my own eyes,

I knew then I could be a happy man,

if I might feel they were about to,

live too,

well then after all

if they might be able to,

I could maybe, might suggest

we all make it out of there.

Rest Quiet

Forget the burden of wonder,

the appalling nature of discovery,

that moment when our heart

rages with a fury of emotion,

pulsating, your chest aroused

to such a level of anxiety,

one cannot recall a calm.

It may please you to know

a comfort level awaits

one the surge of the moon’s tide

allows the energy around us

to slowly fade into a quiet

twilight breeze almost forgotten.

Might it be then, we can rest,

breathe deep the reality

of that which was, and now

tonight can be all over again.

Once there was a blinding storm,

that slowly when the fog parted

revealed a utopia

that place we all seek,

a garden bountiful

with dreams in soft melody.

Nearby is the cove,

that awaits your tired soul.

2:12 AM

Time continuum,

if sleep does come near,

will the moment be gone,

only to return another day,

similar fanfare,

applause of one.

Remember when

we all believed we,

each one of us,

actually lived alone,

the fears of no one else,

always knocking on our door.

Its 2:12 am philosophy

always comes back,

each night to say hello,

yet occasionally

there is fortune in passing,

that night where dreams remain,

we sometimes wish,

the lights might dim

just a little sooner,

yet the timeless second hand

always moving,

forever in motion,

to remind me when

I couldn’t stop time,

moving forward,

losing grasp

upon that which

held my heart strong.

Now tonight,

I laugh at the reality

of the same thinking,

the notions returning,

all of our lives held together

by a memory with chosen themes,

Just when I decide

I’ve had enough,

no longer can I say the same,

I have to accept time is

always suggestive,

waiting, counting, defined.

It’s 2:17 AM

I Remember Songs

Riding in my car crossing freeways

letting the music drive me home,

I could sing out loud,

imagining you with me,

on the road together.

I might glance your way,

see you staring out the window,

a smile that seemed so content,

your hands resting upon levi jeans,

tapping your fingers to a little Dylan.

We were young then,

just kids really like adults,

you know that feeling of knowing,

yet not wanting to … just yet.

Funny how today, when I hear the same songs,

I still feel that young all over again,

Glance your way to see your smile,

wondering, where … just when.

County Fairs and Conversations

Everyone there,

all of the local talent

stepping toward, around, nearby

each other,

even her while he noticed,

and they wondered about him,

each one wanting to know the other,

yet all of them imagining each other,

all together,

standing on bales of hay,

with hellos, sharp tongue,

until later in the night,

began their quiet withdrawal.

Yet no one is walking away,

everyone remains,

just the state of mind,

that disposition that began the day,

earlier notions that created a shell,

slowly began to make its way,

to another region of the park,

as the rides began to slow,

the crowds would disperse,

and finally the lights

on the ring to heaven,

slowly blinked to midnight.

There was that withdrawal,

if we could have just capped

everyone’s state of mind,

just for that instance,

when everyone smiled,

if then,

what might

today be like,

again.

Eighteen

A finished product

on paper

wanting immediate recognition

in reality

asking only for keys

to sanity

wonders abound ahead

new quests.

Each moment of passage

now today seems clouded

when yesterday,

the avenues were clear,

I could find you

around every corner

without stumbling forward

into a pedestrian maze.

That symbolism

speaks to tomorrow

suddenly arrived this morning,

when alone I wanted to cry,

no longer able to rely

upon simple childhood.

Tonight I began slowly

to wish for tomorrow

with all of the rewards,

to be a gentle breeze,

one I might navigate through,

challenged by the next mile.