Monday, February 21, 2005

Selections from "Passions"


Rising, as mist from a white frozen lake,
As a scorching Sun sears it's soft supple flesh.
New Spring morning awakening senses,
Calling, beckoning, pleading its' case.
Crisp and clearing by mid day and yet
Lingering quietly, memory pacing,
Recalling the freshness, the dewdrops on daffodils
Dancing as daylight escapes from its' hold.

Fingers tap softly on silky smooth shoulders,
Patiently waiting for hopeful reaction.
Pictures encapsuled in memory mindful of
Each minute detail I find in your face;
Tasking this creature who dwells here inside of me.
Dare to confront what I know cannot be.
Lord, give me strength to be perfect in battle.
Passions run hot until flesh is stone cold.


North star... Polaris... Guiding light;
Rudder and wheel... The wind in my sail;
Holding my ship on a steady course...
Never to deviate...
Never failing to be there
Beside me when others forsake;
Always giving much more than you take
In this dream we term life;
This magnificent dream,
Gliding serene
Leaving joy in it's wake.
Is there any wonder I need you so?
Is it any surprise that we've lasted this long?
Is it grand obsession which holds us together,
Or simply the comfort in love grown strong.


I stood in line at the grocery counter
Where mother and child were just ahead.
This small supple mass of flesh and lung
Which moments before was announcing his ire
For the whole world to notice that
Something was wrong,
Some great injustice was being done
To his discontent, so he pierced the air
With nerve wrenching wails,
Which his mother apparently could not hear,
Or did she ignore?
Could she be the only one in the store who...
Of course not. How silly.
She's just on to his game.
Patience has conquered, at least for the moment.

And now he sits... Suddenly shy...
Tilting his brow... Avoiding my eye.
What is he thinking? If thought is a pattern.
What is he learning from this days event?

I wink as his view shyly shifts my direction.
He lowers his eyelids, confused for a while.
He glances at mother, and then back to me...
One more wink, and I capture a smile.


Growing older is not so difficult...
Not so different from youthful exuberance.
Steps may be slower...
Stairs may be higher...
Nights may be shorter...
Muscles may ache where
You never knew you had muscles before.
Physical tasks may be more of a chore.

But one learns to compensate,
Brain over brawn.
Pain is a teacher you both
Love and hate,
And patience becomes a constant companion
Who compensates freely
Those willing to wait.

Like the willow who bends,
Growing tall by the waters,
Biding the years, taking all in it's stride;
Older and wiser,
Weathering winter,
Seeking tomorrow
With arms open wide.


This is my home; this small strip of Earth.
This is my property stretching from here
Down that pathway to there round and back
To this spot. It may not seem much, but
It's all that I've got of this planet
Where humans divide territory
And mark it with deeds filed away
In some vault.

This is my family. These are my friends.
These are the people held dear in my heart.
These are the lessons I've learned from
Acquaintances, shared expectations of
Being a part of the larger equation
Whose total is strong.
They are my people. Here I belong.

This is my truth; my heart-felt belief,
Drawn from experience of all I have known.
Truth ever-changing, maturing with time,
Always growing, but never full grown.
Dare we conflict with the truth of another
Who's pathway is just as sure
His truth is right?
Are we combatant?
Do we retreat?
Be honest. For what will you fight?


Many a lesson I learned from my father...
Like when to be strong;
When it's proper to cry
For a man grown mature in his
Nurturing ways;
How to put dignity into our days
Which are labeled and numbered
Til fate plays it's hand;
How to put back what we
Take from the land.
But by far the greatest lesson of all,
Taught by my father's example to me,
Was that work is a privilege,
Not a labor,
Nothing in life is for free.
Those who are hired by those willing to pay
Have a contract, a promise to fill,
And no one should need to look over your shoulder
To make sure you're paying the bill.


You'd think they'd never seen
A naked picture before.
Such prudish inhibitions
Make me wonder if they live
On this planet drenched in worldliness,
Seething in it's seamy side,
Mass proliferation of the airways
And the media.

How could it be missed?
How could they be so blind?
How can they fail to deal with
The blitz of heart and mind?

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