Take it from Here

Every time one road comes to end

Decisions must be made.

Left or right or turn around;

There is no straight ahead.

Direction then must be considered,

Though the line be grayed

With the nagging fear and lagging doubt

That fills a heart with dread.

Feel it beat with palpitating

Syncopated chorus.

See the muddled mesh that quells

The rhythm of regret.

None can truly know the

Fettered fate that lies before us.

Services must render before

We can pay the debt.

So we yield to compromise

And not to doubt or fear.

The rest is up to you, my friend

To set your course from here.

 

Teddy Bear Tales

Teddy went walking in deep forest green

Where sun never touches the earth,

Following pathways others before

Had blazed through bramble and brush,

Capturing songs falling gently from treetops,

Feasting on every note.

Watching the woodlanders thrive in their frolic,

Nary a one in a rush.

Ah, but the evil that lurks in the shadows,

Covert, in corners unseen,

Lying in wait for poor unsuspectings,

Iron-like jaws meant to crush.

Warning? Fair warning was given to you,

My cute little teddy bear friend.

You knew the caveats and the rewards.

Nobody gave you a push.

Now everyone stands at the edge of the forest,

No one dare enter its fold.

Waiting for you. Praying for you.

Fearing the worst from the hush.

 

Broke the Mold

Praise could never do you justice.

Monuments could not compete to

Overshadow your compassion,

Jar the cradle of your soul.

 

Fill the air with songs of joy

From a heart that lifts with ease

Every heavy burden cast,

Every levy, every toll.

 

Keeping sights set on horizons

With a star to guide the night.

Ever constant, moving forward,

Always conscious of your goal.

 

Healing hands reach ever skyward

Touching angels where they sleep.

Heaven must be missing one.

When God made you, He broke the mold.

 

Dressed and Ready

Here I sit dressed and ready

Like so many times before.

Waiting oh, so patiently

For someone to appear.

Maybe I should go ahead and

Just walk out that door, or

Maybe I should get a cattle prod

To get your butt in gear.

Are we destined once again

To make our entrance late?

Burdened with apology as

We walk through the door.

Is it karma? Destiny?

Or is it simply fate

That wears as thin as onion skin

And smells down to the core?

Just once if you would still my fears

‘Twould make my nerves unsteady,

Were I the one to come downstairs 

And find you dressed and ready.

 

Grace

Fondest extension of delicate hands

Beckoning comfort to deep-seeded sorrow,

Urging the slightest upward furl to

Lips whose edges feel gravity’s strain.

Making an entrance so unpretentious that

Everyone notices. Every eye focuses.

All wish to follow footstep by footstep,

Washed in the whispers of sweet gentle rain.

Welcoming wisdom alive and awake in

Eyes holding steadfast to every word.

Spellbound to detail, harboring comfort

Even in silence, emotion unspared.

Leaving us knowing that we are the better

Feeling the presence for even a moment,

Alive with the knowledge that some unknown presence

Lingers still from someone who dared.

Grace be a parent to

All who will follow the

Perfect example of

One who cared.

 

Bad Company

When did you crawl back to town?

With side winding slithering and serpentine tongue

Probing the air to seek out advantage

And steal it from unsuspecting souls.

We’d hoped that you had found greener fields

To lie in wait, stalk your prey.

Much more comfort knowing that

Your influence was miles away.

Far too many young minds here

To emulate your wretched ways,

To try and reap success by

Seeking your misguided goals.

We must excommunicate

To rid us your bad company,

Make our world a safer place,

A better place to be.

 

Pass the Biscuits, Please

Early morning riser to

The sweet aroma,

Coffee percolating in a

Metal pot atop the stove;

Black gold liquid for the soul.

Bacon sizzles on the grill

As it shrinks down to perfection,

Tempting cheaters who can’t wait

To steal a morsel,

Then another.

Hand-rolled dough

Pinched and patted,

Placed in rows by loving hands.

Nursed to life to breathe

Sweet buttered air,

Set lightly on the table.

Called to order now.

Eggs and gravy gently tease,

But contentment waits for no one.

Someone pass the biscuits, please.

 

Workout

Why these bilious bilgy beads of

Salty soakings from each pore?

Why this hurried hapless heartbeat

Racing rapid, run amok?

Footfalls flailing furious with

Rapid repetitious rote in

Harpsichordial harmony

Over, under, up and out.

Breath becomes belabored as the

Will to win the wayward war

Runs its raucous ragtag ranting

Through a muted melted mind.

And just before I bound into the

Doldrums of deflation

I carefully consider

Ne’er to do this deed again.

 

Flying

Oh, to have the wings of eagles

Climbing wind drifts to the sun,

Riding free on rising currents

Wrapped in pinwheel circling.

Looking down on my dominion,

Watching where the rivers run.

Every move of every creature

Open to my scrutiny.

Dare to keep me on the ground when

Clouds can be my fertile soil.

Beg the sun to preen my feathers

With its purifying light.

Weep not if I drift forever,

Lost to sweet oblivion.

Comfort that I’m lost in freedom

Where no harm can touch my soul.

 

My Heart

It’s just a muscle, is it not?

A simple pump

Ticking, tocking like a clock

In perfect perpetuity

Striving for infinity.

Cannot miss a single beat

Without disturbing nature’s force.

Rhythmic cadence, drum and fife,

Briskly marching, breathing life

Without remembrance or remorse.

 

More than simple mechanism,

My heartbeat is ever true.

Pure in essence,

Lodged in passion,

Constant, for

My heart is you.

 

All on Sale

Whatever happened to honesty?

It seems to be on holiday

Or maybe simply gone away

Along with culpability

To hide in recidivity

In muted shades of gray.

 

What has happened to respect?

Is it baneful to expect a

Simple act of courtesy?

Blindness courted by degree

Unable to detect a

Modicum of modesty.

 

Will the well of decency

Run dry of staunch sobriety

Awaiting conscience to prevail

When comfort and propriety,

Standards and conformity

Are up for auction?

All on sale.

 

Smile for the Camera

Try to remember, imagine, embrace

A time in your pretty past.

Distant or near,

Time filled with innocence,

Hopeful with trust,

Facing the future void of all fear.

Kittens and puppy dogs frolicking free,

Prancing, pawing, kissing your cheek.

Sweet lies and mud pies and stories unending,

A brisk round of tag, hop scotch, hide and seek.

Rainbows and mistletoe…

          Springtime to winter…

                    Feasting on cantaloupe…

                              Sloshing in snow.

Basking in sunshine…

          Scary ghost stories…

                    Squishy sop soakings

                              With garden hose.

Creep past remembrance to times of enchantment.

Toggle the handle. Race through the portal.

Light up your eyes with the sparkle of fireflies.

Now…

          Smile for the camera.

Click! You’re immortal.

Look the Other Way

Charging like a fierce Nor’easter

Bounding off costal Atlantic shores,

Tearing inland to wreak its worst,

Leaving a trail of sorrow behind.

Casting a net over masses of innocents,

Pleading no mercy, knowing no shame.

Locating targets with pinpoint precision.

Laughing on leaving, pompous and full.

 

Who will stand up for the tear-stained victim

After the tirade subsides into dust?

Who will be witness against the atrocities?

Who will find backbone to cry out, ‘enough’?

Where is justice? Who will be hero?

Why is action froth with delay?

Why can’t we shake off this propensity to

Simply look the other way?

 

Put a Lid on It

This has been brewing for quite some time,

Your babbling, bubbling cauldron of gruel.

Much like the witches who garnered no good,

Looking for trouble, pitiful fool.

Chattering, smatterings speak to the air,

Baseline pretensions run wild,

Stabbing the life out of palpable logic,

A mentally midgeted child.

No one in earshot evades your tirade.

It carries as though it has wings.

It smells of the heat of a thousand fires,

Reverberating in rings.

No one wants to simmer inside your

Pot of trouble and toil.

Time to turn off the flame and

Put a lid in place to temper the boil.

 

Iced

No longer does your stream flow

Through the valley of reason

Filling her banks to overflow with

Constant compassion, tender thought,

Waiting to bask in your afterglow.

Days gone by your waters refreshed,

Nourished and healed like a gift from above.

No fires survived or resisted your quenching,

No one went thirsty or hungered for love.

No prayer unanswered.

No care vilified.

No fare unpaid.

No dare cast aside.

Now it seems springtime has hastened departure.

Summertime skipped and autumn cold blown.

Waterways deep in the core of your basin

Suddenly chilled…

                               Iced to the bone.

 

Playing Out Back

A ball and a stick and

A diamond of trash cans as

Fifty thousand adoring fans

Fill a postage stamp yard

To wait and watch in anticipation,

Knowing all too well your

Late inning heroics will

Somehow rise to save the day.

 

Chalk roads on concrete,

Pathways through neighborhoods

Real and imagined

In intricate patterns.

Crossroads and railroads,

Stop lights and stop signs,

Fire truck and ambulance,

Cops chasing speeders.

 

Playing til sunset,

Beyond if allowed,

Til mother yells, “bath time”.

Reality stinks.

 

The Visit

Braced and ready for any endeavor,

Awaiting the tirade that surely will follow,

Feeling the weight, the pure intent of

Noncataclysmic benign confrontation.

 

I remain steadfast in anticipation,

Winsome yet watchful of every move.

Measuring spoonfuls of history’s lessons

To temper the spice of today’s recipe.

 

Brisk to the footfall you enter my castle.

Too late the drawbridge, too slow the gate.

Invading my kingdom, my breached sanctuary.

I muffle a scream; put a smile on my lips.

 

Maybe today the results will be different;

Gathering honey, rendering fruit.

Maybe I’ll win the Irish sweepstakes

And move to Bali… or maybe the Moon.

 

Whiffle, Wimple, Tadpoles

Blow you mighty gusting wind.

Blow and cease. Blow and cease.

Make me wonder who created you

In geometric form.

Cutting forth to whiffle this,

Whiffle that, and are no more.

Rippling at water's edge

You cast your breasts upon the shore

A simple wimple foraging

Here to there for who knows what.

Ride the crest to lands downstream

To come to rest in fields afar.

You were just a tiny speck when

First you came. Little dot that grew a tail,

Began to slither ‘cross the pond.

Nosy tadpole swimming, skimming,

Growing to a mighty leaper,

Leaping high into the wind.

Landing on some distant shore.

A whiffle now. A wimple then.

 

If… And… Then

If the calendar was malleable

And we could pick and choose,

Then mistakes would not be permanent,

Do-overs would be commonplace.

If it’s true that fame is fleeting

And wealth can’t buy happiness,

Then I must be the happiest

Poor bastard in this unknown world.

If the myths of Troy were factual

And looks turned men to stone,

Then man would have evolved by now

To lifeless frozen rock.

If the world should stop revolving

And the sun refuse to glow,

Then I’d seek the warmth of kindness

That dwells inside your eyes.

If the angels came tomorrow

And took me to Heaven’s door,

Then the answers would be obvious

And I would guess no more.

 

Peaks

Oh, to rise o’er sun-drenched valleys

Cut and carved by friendly waters

In a questful sure meander

As they search for lower ground.

 

You have towered eons gone

To capture an unbroken sky,

Long before foot, fin or hoof

Arrived to desecrate your Eden.

 

Looking down on crystal waters

Gathered pristine at your feet.

First to witness Sun’s horizon,

Smiling as you greet the dawn.

 

Gazing at your peaks with envy.

Oh, to be so close to God.

Let me lift a pensive plea

That I may be as wise as you.

 

… And That is the Problem

Lanky lips freely flapping,

Vocal chords forever yapping,

Viper’s tongue snapping, snapping.

Do you ever cease, desist?

Jealous little mocking bird

Clinging fast to every word

However petty or absurd.

You simply can’t resist.

Every beetle in your garden

Looks to you to act as warden.

Keep your prison without pardon

Or venue of escape.

Oh, to have a caped crusader,

Superhero, innovator.

I could be a stowaway or

Hide beneath his cape.

But alas, there is no rescue,

No glad ending to this film.

Stuck behind and endless droning.

That, my friend, is the problem.

 

Jazz, and All That

Breaking all the syncopated rules…

                                                  I think so.

Turning all the geniuses to fools…

                                                  I don’t know.

Winding down the windows while I turn the heater on,

Pumping up the volume when they play a favorite song.

Driving down the highway to

A secret little byway where

They play the music my way

And it’s jazz…

                    And all that.

 

Tapping to the rhythm of the blues…

          Don’t go there.

Searching through my soul to find the clues…

          They’re nowhere.

Eatin’ soda crackers, sippin’ slowly on a beer,

Waiting for the music take me far away from here.

Piano man can wing it while

The scat man, he can sing it and

The combo starts to bring it

And it’s jazz…

                    And all that.

 

Rose Garden

Sweet the fragrance of the rose

Awakened of a dew-drenched morn.

Wafting on the summer air,

The fluttering of butterflies.

Sharp the contrast of your colors

On your canvas caped in green.

Bold announcement of your season,

Cornucopic for the eyes.

Delicate your tender blossom,

Velvet skin that must be touched.

Mistress to the sensual senses

Where no judgment need apply.

Champion to would-be lovers.

Staple of apology.

Sweetheart’s way to say ‘you’re mine’.

No excuse. No alibi.

Fairest rose in all my garden

We shall never say goodbye.

 

Thank You

I learned so much of life from you.

Hours spent in harmony

Bouncing on your knowledge knee,

Kindling a learning passion

Hidden deep inside of me.

Bible stories much encouraged

Taught outside of Sunday school.

Learning by example the

True meaning of the golden rule.

Kindness a priority,

Reasoning a tool,

Ego mostly secondary,

Greed the Mecca for a fool.

People are just people.

Some are good, some are not.

But all are equal in His eyes

No matter how they cast their lot.

You taught me oh, so many things

That get me through each day.

As I reflect on days gone by

I only want to say

Thanks, Mom.

 

Down and Back

I know you’ve been there, haven’t you?

Slid the slide of degradation,

Strolled along in agitation,

Bold and without hesitation

On your way to Purgatory.

Eyes that slide back in your brow

Until no sunlight filters in.

Brushing up against the guardrails

On your way to self-destruction.

No advice. No listening.

 

I’ve been there.

Oh, my Lord! Yes.

Sauntered down that lonesome road,

Spent my time with snake and toad,

Life unraveling, eroding

Right before my doubtful eyes.

Now I’m back, right on course,

Life rekindled with a force

I know will never leave me

As I learn to chase the prize.

 

Best of Both Worlds

Go ahead. Eat your cake.

Blast those fools who try to state that

Once it’s gone it’s lost forever

Leaving never hanging limp.

They know absolutely nothing of

Creating memory. Let them grill

The fifth degree to find some meaning

In your action, gaining little

Satisfaction in their mindless menial way.

Never has imagination failed to

Heal a situation left to task with

Bold dictation to commit a memory.

Go ahead! Eat your fill,

Wipe your lips and pay the bill.

Sit a while and post a smile

For all the doubting world to see.

 

Humiliation

How awful for you. Must have been

A source of huge embarrassment.

Candy-coated at the start to

Tempt your taste, pull you in.

But oh, the angry understudy

Creeping slowly, sight unseen

To pounce on unsuspecting prey,

Turning hero into louse.

Pity not the culprit. He shall

Spend his time in hell

Agonizing over choices made

With bitter consequence.

Better to lend concentration toward

The fences left to mend.

Nothing quite as empty as

A truth left dangling.

Lift your chin and focus as

You turn to face the crowded room.

State your case with attitude,

Fearless to the gruesome end.

 

Shall We Dance?

In the half-light softly glowing

With the world in restful peace

Music heretofore unnoticed

Starts to play inside my head.

Waves of passion gently rage

Planting kisses on your shore,

Praying silently for more than

You have offered, I have asked.

Moving closer to your eyes;

Eyes that penetrate my soul,

Beg me to come closer still

To touch the satin of your skin.

Reticence has coddled me to

Keep safe distance, work a plan.

But nothing could prepare me for

The aura essence you command.

Suddenly epiphany steps in

To give me everything as

I ask, you accept my offer.

Shall we dance?

 

Big Time Player

Heroes come in every shape, size,

Age and color too.

Any time of any day,

Anywhere, any way

Bold surprises spring to life

To offer up the finest view,

The big time player stepping up

To take control,

Keep the flow of even lines,

Stem the flood of serpentine

Sensations that can permeate,

Cause the mind to hesitate,

Plant the feet in quicksand

While common senses levitate.

One shall rise to meet the test

Refusing to be second best.