When Voices Speak

So much easier is the quiet,

the peace of reflection without

an internal buzz of prophecy,

the constant of the mind.

 

I woke today to realize my prom

decades beyond this my reality,

yet tonight, students who walk,

they talk, they all believe the same.

 

We are not that far apart from ourselves

when reflection allows our lives

to know the same, to believe

Janis with ‘At Seventeen’ prophetic.

 

Tonight, celebrations do occur,

perhaps rites of passage that frighten

the moms and dads and older

siblings, having known before.

 

Yet tonight there is also the human

condition, remains home, perhaps

isolated, lonely wondering,

listening to sad songs.

 

Whichever choice, option,

desire or passion,

whomever responds to this

our quiet, our silent voice.

 

We might wish for love

to embrace every aspect of

child and friend and adult

and companion … human.

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It Is A Beautiful Day

cometogether

Beatles


How so do the moods define our day,

we wake to a sunlit morning to defy the odds,

or perhaps we settle in selective pods

stepped away we did from society’s way.

 

A certain lovely attraction is contained in smile

circus acts and normalcy all find sweet balance,

life becomes less of form, tossed beyond chance

might we interact open heartedly in the while.

 

We speak of a world that exists based upon because

spirited within an altruistic desire toward freedom.

Yet somewhere along the way began a kingdom

begetting perhaps – there begs the question of laws.

 

Sans the trifle, sense the spirited nature of release

We shall find resolute Love internalized in peace.

An Easter Sunday Prayer

I would wish we might all love,

if only for the hours of this day,

turn to one another,

the fear we even imagine in doing so,

be put aside,

for we are all wanting to show effort

toward recognizing our own

sense of balance

in knowing

there is a special bond,

a reality,

a certain wanton risk perhaps

answered when

in unison

together,

looking in each other’s eyes,

we might know love.

For I haven’t the foggiest notion

who wrote the book,

beyond the letters, the words,

the sayings, the famous and infamous remarks,

I haven’t any knowledge beyond

my own response,

my reaction,

my longing to understand

when humanity

might let themselves

touch

upon the beauty of each other

without the urgency of reward,

oh then,

there might be grace in the certainty

of celebration,

for we are

one love,

we are

one.

 

Happy Easter everyone! Please, peace!

There’s a Song About It Too

IMG_1082

I think it’s the Counting Crows,

well now I know it is,

just being stylish,

setting the tone,

the moment when everything matters,

inside the look of a photo.

 

I woke to this image in the morning,

it represents something,

a journey I suppose,

where all eyes come together

to find some peace,

waking only to see ‘Omaha.’

 

I went to sleep with that last night,

having visited our future,

a couple of kind young souls

that inspire my chances

to watch them grow,

seems silly now, they’re both young adults.

 

I woke up this morning,

looked at the sign out my hotel window,

remembered how blind I’d been

the night before to purpose and reason,

and suddenly came to terms with a world

far beyond just my own sense of matter.

 

To them, the two students I cherished,

one being certainly the breath of my oxygen

with an energy driven toward happiness,

a positive soul,

a wonderful heart.

 

And he,

a magical young man,

with talents beyond the norm,

pick up a guitar,

stand in for a character,

draw a line and give it purpose,

 

They walk the sands together,

shaping the mold of steps

left behind for others

to notice, to understand, to wonder,

their’s is a special opportunity,

the human condition in genuine smile.

 

I drove miles to observe and then wake to Omaha,

and tonight I’m at peace, a sweet simplicity in awe

Three Kids Talking

They were saying things like,

too much information,

to interfere would set me apart,

there would be pushback,

everyone of us knows it exists,

what difference would it make,

could it possibly be interpreted,

wait that last one had to be a teacher,

students don’t think about

all those matters that matter,

wait

don’t be such a dolt old man, old woman,

administrator

city surveyor,

let’s wait a second, and take a break,

let’s

just

listen.

name and faces

IMG_5125

 

I walked into my classroom today,

and the kids were being themselves,

I was thinking about their welfare,

wondering how many wondered themselves.

When I into their faces,

I’d seen them already,

splashed across the television screen

hanging in the living room of everyone’s home.

 

I wonder if it’s possible

to tell each other the same

that Billy & Frieda and Jennifer, well

all could be the victims of this,

insane response to

letting go,

allowing the human condition

a reason to justify

letting go.

 

We are told to be cognizant,

responsible for the well-being

of all of those involved,

being the students, the elders,

the parents, the faculty,

the community members,

school board and administration,

we’re always wondering who’s in charge.

 

Proven again last night,

on Valentines Day,

a new massacre for the ages,

a new realization that everyone

is vulnerable.

I looked at the pictures of the victims,

tomorrow when I walk into school,

I will watch them all walk the halls

tenfold in their similarity, their

human capacity, as living as is the dead,

we’re all faces in a crowd.

 

I wonder about the similarity

if we could recognize we’ll know each

other in another life,

if then

could we protect each other,

with basic compassion

and knowledge beyond

sensationalization.

 

the faces in the crowd,

are the same that make us proud.

I Looked In Their Hearts Today

I didn’t tell them as much,

you never can,

well you might,

I might occasionally want to shout,

I want them to know

I love them,

we love them,

there’s a lot of love when each one of them

walks inside my classroom.

 

I wanted to reach them today,

they couldn’t really feel the fear,

their days spent removed, fortunate,

isolated from the fury

that suddenly deadened their peers,

people they’ll never meet

one day they could have

if life had allowed

worlds to continue

beyond a gunshot, a bullet, the pain.

 

I wonder what goes through the mind of a student,

when miles away, sometimes blocks,

when it occurs

again,

and again and again and again,

and then there’s no tomorrow,

I wander through the streets hoping to find

a reason to say

you are completely safe,

but I can’t always say that,

I couldn’t say it today,

and I wanted to

say it to each one of them,

each one walking through my

classroom door.

I want you to know you are safe.

 

I can’t always say it though,

at least not today,

they’d think I was lying,

they read the news,

they know they’re not completely

safe.

They know,

much more than I will ever know.