Always Practical

Was it always this simple

The practical practice

Of knowing one another

So the strengths and weakness

Might somehow balance

 

Were we that naïve in beginnings

A trip to Europe

See the world and imagine life

From a perspective beyond

The normalcy we are taught to hold.

 

I remember the time I came

Down early, the hostel,

One of the last really crowded ones,

I saw him,

Sitting across from you with interest.

 

I’d noticed that look before

A short smile

Guarded yet with an innocence that

Suggested,

Yes this is the way it can be.

 

I wonder about practicality,

Sitting in the sunroom,

A cigarette burns to imagine

Statues as a sort of hip décor,

When inside a human being despaired.

 

I tried to tell you that quiet morning,

When reddened your eyes

Wouldn’t change their hue

We no longer, well I didn’t

We hadn’t been whom we knew.

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

A Quiet Travel Reveal

I walked through a mall the other day,

only to find a way out,

you see caught up in the melee

of a holiday spray,

I couldn’t discover an easier way.

I thought of all the people nearby,

each of them finghting to find their way,

we were all in a box

with windows and registers and products

of gold for the moment of reveal,

that later would become

just another reminder

of why or because we do feel.

 

I walked through the mall today,

noticed the exit and went about my way.

Sights in a Small Town Cafe

Java Moose

java moose in grand marais

I watched the lines continue to grow,

all wanting, waiting, wishing,

yet I never knew the latter,

especially by expression,

I only managed to maybe gather,

their reasons to be seemed rather

the same as mine and yours.

 

Not your typical cafe I might add,

the people wanting much more,

than the usual scenario

-to see and be seen-

to more be understood,

to be in line with a certain

pleasure,

beyond the usual fare.

 

In a north-wood cafe,

the goal is not to stay,

yet it seems the rains have made it that way,

so the lines have increased,

though the attitude remain the same,

we are all part of this universe,

and today is just another day.

Empty Spaces – The Road Taken – Photo Challenge

The Road Taken

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And yet there were travelers, all of the eyes,

the minds, the plays, the laughter that contained

an avenue of freedom inside quiet minds, sighs,

while everywhere around a humanity maintained.

 

Where have they all gone, the inspiration, surreal

is the occasional dreamer who steps inside wonder

only toward the stranger that perhaps might feel

questioned, in an accentuated fog of a hereafter.

 

Perhaps if we might contain each story’s beginning

to reach the end, all of the internal warfare being

forgotten while nostalgic, the dreamer again did sing

a sorrowful melody of some melancholy meandering.

 

Oh, now there is a silent road ahead where people muse

we imagine an emptiness filled by travelers we amuse.

Landing Gear

Select eyes historical vibes

We wonder precarious lives

Travel bags aligned to cry

the next few hours telling why

~

we all wear select fabric.

Represent shallow instinct

the need to suggest identity

is far and a weighted travesty.

~

We are the same ticket stamped

just quieter at the outset …

Though in hours beyond settle

the nerves of what is our mettle.

~

Speak to the nature of humanity

Less the lunacy of our sanity.

 

Wonder Highways

How many hours spent

rolling wheels

distant sunlight

turns to slow sunset,

miles away,

traveling forever,

I remember the endless

glance to the sky,

waiting for the next …

miracle.

~

Always did  wish

for some reprieve,

back of heads,

one smoking,

the other in a similar

place 40 years later,

we were isolated

in our own travel

companion.

~

There lies beyond

our reach, well,

my reach really,

some answer,

a proclamation,

a sudden reality

wavering in the sky,

just beyond our eyes,

yet there it is,

speaking silently,

looking like some

unattainable,

God.

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.

Face Reminders

Through the glass she smiled straight ahead

with pensive eyes inside a sun streaked pane

that face is familiar

a typical roadway stop

if when we glance

can we define lives

within our reach

yet safe and detached.

I remember the time

traveling with even pace,

I came upon her eyes

a few lights at a time,

she never glanced at him,

always looking ahead.

I wondered if just once,

might she turn my way,

would her contemplation

become one of joy.

the lights turned green again,

soon he drove her away

the next few highways

left me wondering about her,

could she be happy,

glancing straight ahead.

I wonder what her life might be

while we see our lives

together in the waves

while we face reminders.

Our lives in a glance

Sudden Stop

train

A train,
symbolic in motion,
always moving forward,
cutting through the horizon,
occasional vanish in the wood,
then reappearing like clockwork,
we know we can wait on the other side,
the tracks indicate all possibility,
we wait in confidence,
we anticipate the beauty of the roaring machine
slicing through the forest,
designing an historic artistry
of our landscape,
how we exist,
we live and communicate together,
waiting for the trains to arrive.
I find the train’s roar similar to my
human condition,
who I am and how I operate
depends upon an open field,
an opportunity to flourish amongst the
leaves and trees, the brick and mortar,
the common secrecies that lie beneath our eyes,
I can watch for my next move,
knowing there is always a possibility that
lies before my soul.
~
What happened that cool winter day,
when the caverns that support our travel,
when the gravel and strength, man-made,
began to crumble.
What happens when suddenly our lives,
become mortal.
Can we wait how long to see the train,
exit that mysterious tunnel,
or will it remain everlasting,
why do we have to imagine that motions
become dependent on life inside a
sudden stop.

~

keep searching for the light,

keep searching … in the sudden stop

there always remains a light!