I Found It in the Dictionary

Prophesizing visionary
Praying hard for luminary
Foresight to the tertiary
Limits of your goal.
Ever seeking sanctuary,
Running from incendiary
Passions that could crush the very
Essence of the soul.
Nodding off to Sprite and Fairy
Cold and dark as January;
Sailing on the tributary
To an open Sea.
Every micro capillary
Plays the tune both sad and merry
From conception 'til they bury
And we cease to be.
Playing the reactionary
Found in Webster's dictionary.

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Truth

Truth remains truth 
whether spoken or not.

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Personal Ads

I watched it as it grew from
Just a single column in the
Arts and Entertainment section
Of the local Sunday news.
I thought it at first to be an oddity
To place the Personals
In such a section, so obscure,
So hidden from the public view.
But week to week it became clear
The lonely souls were reading
As column grew to pages
'Til it quite obscured the Arts,
And it finally occurred to me
And filled me with delusion
To think there are so many
Restless, searching, lonely hearts.

All those people reaching out,
Longing for affection.
No time left for subtlety;
"In search of" ... direction.

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Canvas of Life

The artist's hand moves stealthily
From palette to board and back again;
Almost as if in a single stroke
As colors unfold on the canvas of life.

Slowly at first as the medium blends
And lays down the backdrop on which to compose
The outline, the structure of what is to be;
Brushing the texture;
Caressing the soul.

Soon are the bright colors flashing and glowing,
Going in every direction at once;
Yearning a structure to give some direction,
Seeking the meaning of what is to be.

Days become weary and move Oh! Too swiftly,
Demanding a signing; a final review.
Praying the images left on the canvas
Will serve as a lesson for others to view.

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Pieces of Peace

Every man searches for peace and prosperity;
Not always consciously; sometimes in vain.
Sometimes it's simple,
Like silent contentment,
The sweet fragrant air that billows the Earth
And follows the trail of a gentle Spring rain.

Often as not, it is more complicated
Trying to fathom the meaning of life,
Searching out goals that will somewhat relate
To the patchwork pattern
Pieced together from scraps of a cloth cut
With a dull-edged knife.

Seeking perfection in an imperfect World
Can lead only to madness, heartache and grief.
Pieces of peace...
The best we can hope for.
Take our contentment in snippets of joy
'Til the darkness of night arrives like a thief.

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The Way of It All

I'm trying hard to understand,
But questions are too numerous.
They fall so hard the weight
Is like a boulder rolling down a hillside
Giving new perspective as
I view them from a distant plain
Escaping their destructive force.

So many wheres and whats and hows
For unwary travelers of this World;
Unwittingly I journey on
Seeking the knowledge, the freedom to choose,
And that choices be forever true
To the nature of my lowly being;
To serve the right cause,
To seek the right goal.
The plot becomes clear as stories unfold.
The answers are there,
Though not always seen.
The trick is to
Question everything.

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Happiness

Happiness moves in silence 
in search of laughter’s voice.

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Passing in Review

The old ex-soldier stood,
Bared his head and dipped his eyes
In silence as the color guard
Strode step by step in grand review.

Memories flood every stream
To overflowing as the symbol
Waves unfurling in the heat
Of steamy summers' sweating swelter.

What a grand time it had been;
Days gone by when youth was king.
How much pride could one heart hold
For honor's duty gladly done?
How many lives were his to touch?
How many differences resolved?
Could he have done just a little more?
Will he find peace at the end of his road?

Forever seeking
To find something new,
Lives spent
Passing in review.

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Crying

It brings me discomfort to see people cry.
I never know how to react or respond
To the steadfast emotion so common to humans;
So deeply attached to the frailties we share.
It's so unpredictable, so like the wind;
Clouds laden with moisture
That burst at the seams.
One truly can never anticipate
What may precipitate unwanted tears
To burst upon hearts with a jagged edge,
With a vengeance to tear out our dreams.
Sadness is all around every day and
Tears are abundant to wash it from sight,
But tears alone never will take it away;
Crying will not set things right.
So, we cry for our losses...
We cry for ourselves...
We cry for the pain that we must endure.
We cry for the child who cannot understand.
We cry - because life is unsure....

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Celebrate Quietly

I sit in the darkened room and wonder,
Marvel even at the great good fortune
Now bestowed upon me
Here among the Arts elite.
Watching as the actors play the rolls
That were created in my mind
So very long ago
Now cast for all the World to see.
I try to read the mind of one who
Watches with a quiet patience
And a chuckle now and then
When the timing is just right.
I cringe when someone flubs a line.
"That's not what they were meant to say."
I wonder, when it's over will I want to
Run and hide from sight?
Waiting for the final scene...
The audience applause.
My heart then quietly celebrates;
My mind arush can take a pause.

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A Heart Breaks

You were my world at daybreak;
Shining, glowing with the amber light
That grew to passion's fiery red
Long before the morning awoke.
We thought we would last forever,
Knew our torch would light the way.
Pity that the flame concealed the
Demons lurking in the smoke.

Time can be an evil teacher
When the truth at last unveils
The colors hidden in the heart
Which, early on, were cloaked and masked.
Had we seen in the beginning
What the trek of time revealed,
We would not have made the journey,
Would not have been so sorely tasked.

All the wonders one foresees
While other roads the mind forsakes.
This path was not meant to be.
In the end...  a heart breaks.

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If it's true

If it’s true you can’t take it with you, 
leave the very best of yourself behind.

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When the Leaves Leave

It's snowing now; has been for a day
Or more. The evergreens are pregnant
Pure with white, and the sidewalks sigh
With the weight until shovels clear
And the sun arrives and it can breathe again.

Now the elm tree waits, hoping Springtime will
Renew all the innocence and joy that
It once knew 'til the Winter winds
Blew her covers far away
And laid bare her soul for the world to see.

And you were gone in the early Autumn air.
As the leaves were falling, fate was
Planning, too. And you left me here
Standing stark and alone; sighing, shivering
With loss no one has ever known before.

...Sadly now, the leaves have simply blown
Away 'til threadbare limbs flail wild in
Winter winds. And I'm wondering,
Are you somewhere safe tonight?
And does God have mercy for those left behind?

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Meditation

Meditation seeks that home 
where tempests reside in the calm. 

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You Don't Understand

I know that we speak the same language.
You know that I've said it ten thousand times,
But somehow we're just not communicating
In enumerating a tired old theme.
Taking apart every syllable,
Every nuance laid threadbare before us, picked clean.
And still you don't hear, or do you ignore?
Would it help if I shouted and screamed?

The rules of polite conversation sometimes
Tie the pitiful hands of the articulate
When the ears of the listener deafen and turn
In directions too often not meant to be tread,
Leaving the speaker, the teller of stories, to
Squirm in frustration much to the point
Of wishing the listener, to his dismay,
Were strangled, beaten and left for dead.

Such a simple, magical plan...
Pity you don't understand.

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I Don't Need Scissors

I don't need scissors to cut out your heart
And toss it aside without shedding a tear.
Actions and words have more cutting an edge
Than the most finely honed pair of stainless steel shears.
I won't abide by your mollified codes that
Demand acquiescence to civility.
You won't find me yielding or wielding an edge
To the notions of polite society.
There is a line which, when crossed, kindles sparks
That build to a wall of impenetrable fire
That can't be put down,
Cannot be extinguished,
But only grows deeper and hotter and higher.

You had to hurt me.
You had to dig.
You knew the ending right from the start.
Now it's my turn, and I won't be kind...
And I don't need scissors to cut out your heart.

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Boom Box Theory

Every evening, 11 PM, we
Hear him pull through the alleyway
Headed to what must be the solace of
Hearth and home at the end of his day.
Not that the engine of his Tracker is
A loud unmuffled roar;
Not that the potholes in the alley scream
Of rattles bottomed out;
Not that he's greeted at his door by
Loved ones gladly welcoming his
Tired bones to a weary rest
After an arduous evening out.
How do we know our neighbor is home
Just as our sleep time is settling in?
"Boom-ba da boom-ba da boom, boom, boom"
Our walls quake with the deafening din.
How can he stand it?
What evil demon possesses his spirit...
Rules over his mind?
Piercing his ears to the marrow of bone,
Leaving all semblance of logic behind,
Filling his head like a horn of plenty...
He'll probably be deaf by the time he is twenty.

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Pernicious Glitch

Joy... Anger... Pain... Sorrow...
Love... Elation... Hate... Depression...
Fear... Confusion... Agitation...
Jealousy...  Aggravation...
Logic doesn't seem to fit
The pattern of emotion
That the Human factor tends to lend
Our dismal dreary days.
No wonder we become confused
With minds befuddled and bemused
When pathways clutter and refuse
To follow logic's ways.
Like pieces of a patchwork quilt
All cut and scattered on the floor,
Like bricks before the house is built,
All separate and alone;
Until they're placed and stitched or mortared
In a pattern prearranged,
The pieces are just pieces...
The bricks are merely stone.

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Fish

I'm no big fan of seafood;

Never have been,

Never will be.

Though many love it, I find fish

Is not me cup of tea.

Those funny little aliens

Snatched from another world,

Where we would die in minutes

Were we untimely hurled.

I love to watch them flying

Through their liquid atmosphere;

Courting danger every moment

With no trace of fear.

Eyes that gaze expressionless

Into the sea ahead.

Caution-tempered innocence,

Unaware of dread.

Yes, fish are fascinating,

And to watch them is a treat;

Just as long as they're not placed

In front of me to eat.

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Lawyers

They say the way to fix the law
Is to get rid of the lawyers;
A theory of some merit, I suspect.
A certain small percentage
Gives them all the "nom de plume"
Of a greedy, slimy, hateful, horrid sect.
Ethically unethical...
Self-serving in their creed...
Praying on the avarice
Inherent in mankind...
Hiding truth deep in the dark...
Keeping justice blind.
But hope lies in awareness
If we only take a look.
The advocate can change;
Can write a new page in our book.
With true concern and real compassion
We can turn a leaf,
And lawyers lose their reputation
Of praying on our grief.

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Competition

Don't be too hard on yourself
If you don't win each time you try.
It's the trying that's important.
You never need an alibi
If you have given every measure
Of true effort in your quest.
Competition stirs the spirit
Bringing out your best.
Demons try to undermine us.
Selfish dragons snap and snarl.
Pushing, pulling, nagging, yelling,
Baiting... Begging not to quarrel.
Just remember in the end
You've just one life to save.
You can't let competition
Put you in an early grave.

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Forgiveness

The many layers of forgiveness 
are like onions, 
tears and all. 

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Logic

My all time hero is Mister Spock;
Not the doctor, but the trekker;
The science officer of the Enterprise.
Born of logic, freed of feelings,
Void of human fallacies.
No emotions evidenced
When gazing in his eyes.Although his stoic countenance
Was carried to extreme
Too complex for us tounderstand,
The aspect of his character
Is simple in its form;
Pointing to the frailties in man.

All things must be logical;
Adhering just to facts.
Science forms the singularly
All-embracing tract.

Fortunately, Spock was not
Completely void of feeling.
Even though his training hid it well.
His human half emerged and helped
To guide in his decisions
Like Pavlov's dogs
Responding to the bell.

So, even though I do admire
This "simple logic" notion,
I wouldn't really want to be
Void of all emotion.

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Tomorrow

Do not fear tomorrow.
Yesterday’s tomorrow is already here. 

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Organization

What makes us do things just the way we do?
Who makes up all the rules of order?
Tell me. Was it you?
What makes a captain
More than a private?
What is a C.E.O.?
What gives police authority
To tell us where we cannot go?
What makes us put our things in order
And make a daily plan?
Explain to me why we do things
As we do, if you can.
Is it habit?
Is it logic?
Is it strategy?
Is it drawn upon a map
For all the world to see?
Can we simply let things happen
As they would anyway?
Why must we be organized
In planning out each day?

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Kindness

Kindness is contagious 
when applied with consistency.

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The Forest

When I was young
I loved to take off
Strolling through the woods;
Especially in autumn when
The leaves began to turn.
To watch the rabbits scamper
As they forage through the brush,
While squirrels stockpile food before
The weather gets too stern.
The tall trees tower over me
A hundred feet or more.
The babbling brook sings out its' cheerful song.
The life that fills the forest
Overwhelms the mortal mind.
It touches deep the soul
And lets you know that you belong.

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Siver lining

It’s the silver lining in the cloud 
that brings the nurturing rain.

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Candles

We burn candles in our house.
It's kind of a tradition.
Not so much for the light they give,
Although the glow is nice.
We light them for the cleansing
They provide; the sweet aroma
Of vanilla, lilac, potpourri or spice.
Every fragrance you imagine
In your wildest dreams,
Plus a few of which you're not aware,
Placed in candles, sealed in wax
Until the fire screams,
Insisting you release them in the air.
Slowly melting, softly dying,
Giving of itself;
Flame that flickers, dancing to and fro.
Mesmerizing, hypnotizing
As it casts its spell.
There's something special in a candle's glow.

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Wisdom

Wisdom begs to  
know the unknown. 

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Eating

Eating is fun!  I like it. In fact
I do it all the time.
Perhaps at times I do a bit too much.
Munching on those tasty morsels:
Candy, cakes and pies,
Ice cream cones, bananas, cheese and such.
It's pure delight;
A welcome sight
When hunger's little pangs
Come strolling up to me on beggars' feet.
Perhaps I'd even lose some weight
If I ignored his plea;
If I didn't oh so dearly love to eat.

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Brat

You can be such a bitchy brat
When life doesn't go your way.
I would console you,
But no matter what I do or say
It all gets twisted, turned around,
Mixed up, misunderstood;
As if you were expecting
Ill advice instead of good.

No matter what occurred to put
That scowl upon your face,
It's time to lighten up
And make your world a happy place.
No need for making everyone else
Miserable as well.
You just create a wash
Of your own private little hell.

So, don't take things too serious.
Don't dwell on this or that.
Life's too short to spend it
Being such a bitchy brat.

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The Traveler

He can't sit still for long at a time.
His feet get itchy to roam.
Mind wandering to far off places;
His walking boots are his home.
A malcontent? I'm thinking not;
Just curious is all.
He simply must investigate
That mournful distant call.
It beckons like the sirens
Calling out to passing ships.
Its lure becomes obsession
As the frenzy stirs and whips.
There's nothing to control the urge;
No way he can evade.
The traveler must follow.
The journey must be made.

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Building Blocks

Construction workers use them.
So do children at their play.
Housewives, clergy, taxi drivers
Use them every day.

Half a life is spent in learning;
Building a strong base.
When we try to run without them,
It's a losing race.

A life without foundation
Is often filled with strife.
Pinnacles are reached by using
Building blocks of life.

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Haiku 105

Birds of winter rest
On icy carpets of snow
Fed by nature’s alms.

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The Artist

Capturing the earth, the moon and stars
On the canvas of the mind,
The artist paints;
Creating worlds apart
From normal thought,
Worlds of wonder...
Things unseen by the naked eye.
Scenes not quickly understood;
Requiring thought
And quiet reflection,
Until his sight emerges from the canvas,
And the work becomes his soul.

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Life Is Like a Ceiling Fan

It goes around, and round around
In never ending circles,
Stirring up a little breeze
To make its presence known.
Never asking questions...
Designed alone for comfort...
Offering relief to all
Who step into its zone.

A thing of giving;
Never wanting,
Never a demand...
Arms outstretched
As far as they can go...
Harvesting the air and
Giving forth its gentle blessings.
Life is like a ceiling fan?
If it were only so.

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Endings

Everything ends. 
Embrace what is good in life as it is happening.

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Haiku 104

The sun on my back
And tall grass between my toes.
Spring is home at last.

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Neighbors

We have good neighbors, I suppose;
Though we see them hardly ever.
They wave politely, "hi- de-ho"
And go about their way.
I see them prying out their windows
As we're coming in,
Out of curiosity
I guess you'd say.
I see them on occasion
Hanging over back yard fences
Catching up on gossip
They're afraid they might have missed.
It worries me to see them laugh
Then look in my direction.
It makes me wonder why
I'm on their list.
I only hope in time of need
Or hopeless desperation,
When all the world is dark and cold and grim,
That I can call and they'll respond
With kindness and compassion,
The same way I, in turn,
Would give to them.

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The Wishing Well

Have you ever seen a wishing well?
I wonder if they're real.
Wouldn't it be marvelous
If there was such a deal?
Just toss a coin and make a wish,
Whatever it may be,
Then sit back, relax
As it becomes reality.
It's too bad
And it's so sad
Life doesn't work that way.
The wishing well,
So I hear tell,
Comes from working hard each day.

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Haiku 103

Cheetah loves her spots
Elongated in swift flight.
Dinner ready soon.

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Falling Through the Cracks

Details, details, details...
All the tasks that we must track.
Little wonder some things wind up
Falling through the cracks.
So important... Must remember...
Don't let me forget....
"Do you?" "Will you?" "Have you?" "Did you?"
No, I didn't yet.
It can all be so frustrating,
Bordering on mean,
When the unexpected
Interrupts your set routine.
Taking actions out of sequence,
Anarchy attacks,
Leaving more important details
Falling through the cracks.

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A Mouse in the House

There's a mouse in our house.
He's an uninvited guest.
A furry little flash of gray;
A brash unwelcome pest.
He doesn't seem to realize
As he streaks across the room,

That by coming in from outside

He has surely sealed his doom.
I can hear you
Puttering about inside my wall;
Seen your little droppings
In the corner, in the hall.
Shared a slice of bread or two;
Although you didn't ask.
Tried to teach you manners;
Yet another futile task.
No, I'm afraid there's only one
Solution to affect.
I'll set a trap
And bait it well,
And snap your furry neck.

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