Life’s About the

Adjectives
by
MH Benton
 Acknowledgments:

The Friends of Hunting Island use A Grain of Sand with permission on their
website: http://www.friends-of-hunting-island-sc.org/seaoats.html

Life’s About the Adjectives won the 2007 Willard Espy Award for light verse
and is published on their website at:
http://www.espyfoundation.org/html/EspyAward2007.html

The Dead Mule School of Southern Literture first published “The Sound of
Snow” in December 2009.

The Dead Mule Society of Southern Literature first published Sea-Foam;

Details, Details, Details; Sancho Panza; Kite; and Fallen Leaves in October
2009.

The Beaufort Tribune first published The Tide Before Christmas in December
2009

ii Copyright 2009 MH Benton. All rights reserved

 Table of Contents
A Clipping on the Ground...................1
Acrostic ..............................................2
A Grain of Sand..................................3
Ashes..................................................4
A Ship in Pearl ...................................5
Auden Forgive Me...............................6
Brand New Day...................................7
Breakfast............................................8
Circular Logic .....................................9
Companions......................................10
Day’s Sweet Morning........................11
Echoes..............................................12
Epitaph of a Sailor ..........................13
Fallen Leaves....................................14
Firth of Clyde....................................15
Five Faces of Rain.............................16
Four Noble Truths.............................17
Garden of Stone...............................18
Heartbeats........................................19
Human Beings..................................20
I Grew up with a Brother...................21
Inches from the Shore......................22
June Bug...........................................23
Kite...................................................24
Life Can Be A Turnip Or A Rose........25
Life’s About the Adjectives ..............26
Life's Bouquet...................................27
Little Dancers...................................28
Love and Fear...................................29
Love’s Corner...................................30
Loves Last Moment...........................31
Misty Rays of Light...........................32
Moon Queen.....................................33
Moonbeams......................................34
Morning Song...................................35
My Days with Carol...........................36
My Thoughts at the Bedruthan Steps37
No Better Friend...............................38
Patient Death...................................39
Pearls................................................40
Porch Swing......................................41
Prism Glass.......................................42
Reduce to Gain.................................43
Reflections........................................44
Sailboats...........................................45
Sailing the Surf Line.........................46

iii Copyright 2009 MH Benton. All rights reserved

 Sancho Panza...................................47
Sea-Foam.........................................48
Shooting Star....................................49
Some Say.........................................50
South Carolina..................................51
Still, the Nightingale Sings................52
Tar Baby...........................................53
Ten Thousand Tears for Darfur.........54
Testing Water...................................55
The Beauty of Every Woman............56
The Day I Found You.........................57
The Halloween Road ........................58
The Night’s Long Battle....................59
The Rain, The Bird, The Fox..............60
The Opposite of Love........................61
The Sound of Snow...........................62
The Tale of a Person.........................63
The Thousand Pieces........................64
The Tide Before Christmas...............65
The Tome Within..............................67
To Mom.............................................68
Touching ..........................................69
Truth or Darkness.............................70
Under the Bong Tree........................71
Unfulfilled dreams............................72
Unwanted knock...............................73
Venus and the Crescent Moon..........74
Water Drops.....................................75
Waves and Rocks.............................76
Webs................................................77
Well Lived.........................................78
What Stars Know..............................79
When the Banshee Calls...................80
Why am I here?................................81
Words Cannot Describe....................82
Words Upon the Sea.........................83
You Cannot Burn My Flag.................84

iv Copyright 2009 MH Benton. All rights reserved

 A Clipping on the Ground

‘Twas nothing much, that blade of grass,

a clipping on the ground.
Not worth the time to pick it up,
to do so I was bound,
then to free my mind and ponder,
this treasure I had found.

It looked to me to be the same,

as millions, maybe more,
unchanging like the grains of sand,
which fill the ocean's shore.
To dismiss it would be easy,
and drop it to the floor.

I passed it between my fingers,

and saw that I was wrong,
to judge it in that simple way,
missed its charms all along.
Then with profound will I studied,
and heard my subject's song.

As it sang to me of heaven,
and things I'll someday see,
it was not a prayer or sermon -
it sang of what will be.
Then saw it now through humble eyes,
its pristine majesty.

'Tis a complex world made simple,

in this gift I have found.
A crack of time is all it took
to know the world around,
from a blade of grass this morning,
a clipping on the ground.
 Acrostic
Acrostic is the poetry of titles, line by line,
Caring not the rhyming, more the rule of left-hand spine.
Reading lines East and West gives meaning to each tine,
Oriented North and South hides the meaning for us to
mine.
So many take the challenge and thoughts they do entwine.

They create for us the poetry and prose we do enshrine.

In such works we often find full body, like a wine,
Carefully plucked words, like grapes from the vine.
 A Grain of Sand

A grain of sand, nothing more

blowing and rolling about the shore.
All alone, one takes no note
its moving about the wild sea oat.

Soon to fall and move no more

the Wind takes another from the shore.
Blown again under the night’s full moon
it finds the oats and forms a dune.

To rise or fall, the tender dunes wait

as Wind moves sand to receive its fate.
They welcome me back each day anew
as I walk within the sunrise hue.

It is the same but different now

the dunes I see as I make this vow:
“Dear Lord, I thank you for this day
the same is new in a gentle way.”

“Each dune is sculpted with your hand

by blowing around each grain of sand.
The dune has beauty as a whole
but is nothing with out the single sand’s soul.”

“I pray we learn from the grain of sand

to become a part of your larger plan.
We each have beauty within our core
it’s by coming together, we become much more.”
 Ashes
I end my days like the ember coals
that so gently change to ash
Imbuing warmth until the gray prevails
no more of me left to give
Now, sadly I see the course is run
with only acrid remains
For fire burns hot but never does last
as all is consumed within
Far too soon the pit is cleared of me
I join history's dust bin
 A Ship in Pearl
A battleship of steel that is no more,
silently sleeps on Pearl Harbor's floor.
For sixty plus years she's kept men so brave,
we all hold-on beloved, to this National grave.
In Sunday's slow pace the Japanese took lives,
and tore open the souls of sons, daughters, and wives.
The opening blow to a hard fought war,
survivors knew best what the fighting was for.
They gather at Pearl with each lustrum's fall,
fewer each time as nature does call.
To answer this ill, survivors did run,
avenging ones lost in that solemn morn's sun.
Precious are those who stood the line,
when danger was East, across an endless brine.
From here to there, they took the fight,
and made them pay high for their wanton spite.
Here's to the men, both living and gone,
who gave of themselves when weapons were drawn.
The good ship Arizona may be rusting way,
forever on patrol, protecting us she'll stay.
Strong with steel, that made her whole,
it was the men aboard that gave her the soul.
Now in our hearts, she does sail fast,
leading our way, true to the last.
Honor the few who are here from that day,
for soon, they too will have gone away.
To join with brothers out on the sea,
guarding a future for those who will be.

Thank God for you all

 Auden Forgive Me
Auden forgive me, but I do hate hats
the power they gave you, for me, costs too much.
They are but simple things as surely you know
then again, they change so much – changes profound.

The soul of me is the one thing I possess

my equal share of God’s love and grace.
Hats only serve to change my soul’s projection
and lie to the world as to who I am.
 Brand New Day

Black, deep foreboding night …

you weaken men of any might.

Creeping, stalking like a thief…

you make us pray for relief.

Cold and lonely you will always be…

stealing away the things I see.

But even you have to hide…

for daylight comes, like the tide.

Hues of blue and of gray…

tell the coming of the new-formed day.

So run! Run! Run away!…

morning comes to lead my way.

Again I see the things I love…

the trees, the grass and sky above.

By God’s great grace and steady hand…

once again I see the land.

He gives to us in his Sheppard’s way…

the coming of this brand new day.
 Breakfast
The daybreak has a special taste,
each morning as I rise.
It feeds me deep within my soul,
a feast for hungry eyes.

An eastern view is all I need,

to nosh my hungry core.
Orangey-blues and purple-grays,
I see outside my door.

In a moment’s time - breakfast ends,

colors become one light.
Once hidden things are soon revealed,
exposed in daytime’s dight.

I take with me my special time,

and eat throughout the day.
It keeps me strong within my soul,
trekking along the way.

To feed one’s soul takes varied things,

depends on who you are.
Some need a smile and some a song,
for me – it’s morning’s star.
 Circular Logic
My eyes see a tarnished world
A world with stain
Stain my soul
Soul

My soul feels an angry world

A world with hurt
Hurt my mind
Mind

My mind needs a better world

A world with delight
Delight my heart
Heart

My heart is a willing world

A world with trust
Trust my eyes
Eyes
 Companions
Lazily I slip along the mud bank, gliding with out a sound.
Low tide demands my interest to pass within the marsh.
Snakelike, I travel the path that time has set
I round each bend to wondrous creatures big and small.

Be it heron bird or turtle sunning on a stump, they greet me,

but only to a point – away they go! I have disturbed their day.
Forgiveness is assumed as they flee to a comfortable distance.
We gain equilibrium of trust, the creatures and me.

Neither wanting nor fearing, we enjoy our moment of faith.

Again, the tide demands my attention as I touch upon the bank.
I bid farewell to my companions and travel down the way.
The next turn is calling, new friendships to be found.

Time grows short, as the day passes and the surge is rushing in.
Freedom from the banks has her price - I see the marsh no
more.
Only the spartina reaches above the waves, bidding me time to
go.
I row now home with a smile, for soon I will see my companions
again.
 Day’s Sweet Morning
I live in day’s sweet morning,
before you stir about.
On words I’m feed and satisfied,
yes, coffee – very stout!

To read and write in quiet times,

allows my mind to run.
I blaze a trail on virgin snow,
with thoughts and prose so won.

Thus I write about varied things,

just thoughts that strike my mind,
some have acrid verse that stings,
some, fodder yet to grind.

Each morning gives a special light,

veiling my worldly view,
of common themes, but never trite,
I color with this hue.

I need this time to free my heart,

to lay my words around,
and seek some wisdom to impart,
with verbs that push a noun.

The quiet morn is all I need,

to craft my feeling so,
for it’s the time my muse is freed,
and my emotions flow.

To have the world travel around

is clutter to my mind.
In petty needs and foolish talk,
my spirit becomes entwined.

Early I rise to start my day,

before the sun does fly.
Still think it strange this thing I do?
Well, at least you know why!
 Echoes
Echoes in the morning,
as birds sang their song,
gave the day a warming,
as they piped along.

Echoes in the daytime,

of noises made by man,
left the world less sublime,
'twas not in Nature's plan.

Echoes in the eve,

are barely heard at all,
to petty lies we cleave,
and run from Nature's call.

Echoes in the night,

have nothing left to say,
seems we just fuss and fight,
and throw it all away.

Echoes in the mind,

beg us to try again,
for its peace we'll find,
when we call our brothers friend.

Echoes in the morning,

again will sing a song,
we'll bask in the worming,
as we should have all along.
 Epitaph of a Sailor
I sailed across the oceans like Ahab did before.
It was no beast from the depths that drove me ’round Perdition’s
Flame.
I too have given all to a single thought becoming consumed by the sin
of it -
my last breath of hate so spat.

I joined the ancient mariner on his ship of lonely times.

It was no solitary bird, drifting on currents high, which focused all my
shame.
I wasted life’s precious gift and watched time mark my soul -
my own folly chained my neck.

I battled fish like the old man, just a speck upon the sea.
It was no noble cause or sustenance for which I fought and landed
game.
I reeled sacred lives to me only to watch them be devoured -
my vanity noshed on their souls.

I journeyed with Odysseus in Homeric tails of lore,

offering myself to recklessness, too clever for sing-song sirens to claim.
I faced dangers for no reason, bravado for bravado’s sake –
my vessel wrecked upon the shore.

My tale’s been told ten-thousand times by poets greater than me.

No moral was upheld or redemption did I find as life’s innocence did
wane.
I followed a wake of destruction on this life-course that I sailed -
Take heed, my friend, this ten-thousand and one.
 Fallen Leaves

I
Walking the woodland on fallen leaves
my mind soon ambles free
Each step crisp with sound
each sound a whispering sprite
Though this is a trail well-worn
a newness still takes hold
New sprites lead to other paths
new paths that refresh my soul
Further I trod on fallen leaves -
come join my wondering mind
Then soon you'll hear the murmuring song
then song can heal your soul

II
Walking the woodland on fallen leaves
we stir with natured hearts
Each step heals life's hurt
each hurt released from our souls
Though our mind's a trail well-warn
a newness still survives
New thoughts falling down like leaves
new leaves that whisper too
Further we trod to heal ourselves -
calling all to join our trek
Then soon 'twill be humanities time
then time will heal the world
 Firth of Clyde
Rising up above foam-crest waves
the Highlands call me home
Yes, call to me in Gaelic tongues
to leave my water’s roam

Riding across waves of ocean's far

to reach this wondrous shore
I'll soon be there on ancestral land
known by lives before

Then nearer still, the waves reduce

I find a river wide
I sail within its Lowland shores
upon the Firth of Clyde

As stars reduce by the morning's rise

more wonders take their shape
I see cliffs all lined with moss and grass
that form this wondrous scape

This beautiful land with its rugged build

bids to me "come explore
and climb straight up to a Highland lake
then to the Upland moor"

So along the Clyde I sail my craft

and enter Scotland's soul
Like a Tartan's weave this water binds
a nation as a whole

To the North you see the mountains raise

so rugged and wild and free
To the South are hills with moors that roll
calling all "look, come see"

But it was the Clyde than won my heart

as I sailed to this place
For it opened wide, like arms stretched out
granting a sense of grace
 Five Faces of Rain
Rains will come and rains will go
as many the seasons pass
in different ways its drops will fall
like kisses upon the grass

With delicate peas a mist does form

and covers a thirsting ground
like the windblown sands getting everywhere
mist moves with barely a sound

More drop than pea a sprinkle comes next

to the gardener’s great delight
if all the days had a times like this
the flowers would grow just right

But gentle rain is what works best

as it does not overwhelm
it allows the earth to drink it up
and grants life throughout the realm

More than this the storm clouds come

on days with noon’s high heat
drenching all with a driving force
too long and the land’s effete

Last is the hard pounding rain

that goes for days and days
it coveys us all within our homes
and leaves us in malaise

Look to rain for all it does

no mater what its face
either to give a drink or wash the land
it comes by heaven’s grace
 Four Noble Truths

There is suffering…
of this, no one can deny,
for lack of life’s simple needs,
man’s children often die.

There is cause for suffering…

though rarely the intent,
but more by lack of feeling,
such innocence is spent.

There is an end of suffering…

Sooner or later, the pain will go away,
by deeds done or not,
we pick the role we play.

There is a path to the end of suffering…

but what, oh what will it be?
Will you pick the trail that gives life,
or grant death slowly, by degree?
 Garden of Stone

Take me to garden of stone where my brothers rest,

I hear them call and see the path to follow.
Lay me down in the marbled rows and add my story to theirs,
my days of burden are gone, peace at last, peace.
No place else to be, no place else, no place else for me.

Take me to the garden of stone where my brothers rest,

It’s time to answer the call, the path leads me home.
I’ll sleep soundly now, a hallowed blanket my friends share with
me,
No more do I worry, time to sleep, sleep at last, sleep.
Take me to the garden… garden of stone.
 Heartbeats
If all you wanted was my heartbeat,
you only had to ask.
Each beat, each pulse of it
is there only for you.
There is no need for deception,
though easy a mark am I.
I believe all you tell me, each lie,
I do not question them.
I cannot – I will not!
For I am lost in the promise of what might be,
what never was.

Take them all…

I have no further use for heartbeats.
 Human Beings
The world can be a cruel and hurtful place
We blame fate, or Satan, or even God
All things that amplify
our own failings as human beings.

Fate does not deal in good or bad

It can bear no blame at all
All fate can do is point out
our own failings as human beings

Satan then must be the source of such

But blaming him only furthers his cause
All the dark one does is allow us
our own failings as human beings

Then God must do these worst of things

But that’s not the God I know
All God does is love and forgive us
our own failings as human beings

The world can be a cruel and hurtful place

We blame fate, or Satan, or even God
All things but where the problem lies –
our own failings as human beings
 I Grew up with a Brother
I grew up with a brother
that had Stephen for his name
A year plus some between us,
more apart were we than same.
We had no friends in common
few interests did we share
We mixed as oil to water
and became the strangest pair
As teens we both found trouble
but each in separate ways
Troubles that would haunt us
both
upon the life-trails we'd blaze
The distance grew between us
as the days then years went by
And neither seemed to notice
until was Dad's time to die
Yes, we both loved our father
as only a child can do
We shared this point in common
on the day tears formed like dew
We put the past behind us
to be brothers on that day
found we're less different
than before we'd dare to say
It took Dad's loss to shake us
right down to our very core
To see the time we wasted
being petty and keeping score
A year plus some then later
again the family cried
This time we lost my brother
laid to rest by Daddy's side
If life were based on fairness
this ending just could not be
I'd have time with my brother
long before his soul was free
Please learn this from my story
not to be the one so proud
letting time then slip away
as little time we're allowed
Make the most of life's moments
forgiving the things you must
'Tis how I found my brother
a true friend that I could trust
Inches from the Shore
I wondered what today would be
as I awoke and found the floor.
Oh, would we find the bigger view,
or drown just inches from the shore?

Easy it is to miss the mark

while insisting the mark’s the goal.
And how they love to beat the drum
then proclaim things beyond control.

The bait and switch, or shuck and jive

each leading to the same result.
The sad thing is we know the lies
but give in to the word-smith's cult.

So in the end no view is changed

by politicians we have kept.
It’s not with them the blame does sit
'tis pure bull-shit that WE accept.

The art of nothing has to change

before we can repair this land.
Noise over substance - take no more
on this point we must take our stand.

In give and take the answer lies,

that requires a bigger soul
an open mind to new ideas
that sees our nation as a whole.

So demand the best from your pick

the days after you cast your vote
Next time around you'll make them pay
with a heave-hoe right from the boat.

And maybe then the others will see

it is us that they can't ignore
to then accept a bigger view
or drown just inches from the shore.
 June Bug
On a starless night filled with haze
a porch light shines alone.
A yellow-pale reflects on dust
some breath of wind has blown.

And there I sit upon a swing

that moans its off key sound.
Soon I'm joined by a million wings
that charge this light they've found.

They fly a path that's drunkard-straight

imbibing on the light.
They dare to get but just so close
then escape away with fright.

The light has magic to a point

as they dart and flit around.
But, if to close they dare approach
Icarus-like they’ll find ground.

So there I sit and watch the sight

as they swarm and dance in air.
with too much fuss they chase the night
inspired by a porch light's glare.
 Kite
With the fairest of breezes,
off I go! I take to flight.
A silken twine holds me fast
looking back, it leads to you.

You, only you hold the twine,

I rise further to the sky
until no sight of you's left,
still, the twine holds me to you.

Drunkenly I ride the breeze

knowing that you set my course.
I reach for the high-up clouds
and then strain against your grasp.

Soon whipping winds have me caught,

and they sing upon the twine.
A song we both hear and know,
a sorrowful, wailing song.

Damage done - the string does part

and I flail within a cloud,
leaving you there, holding twine.
Stringy, stretched, useless twine.

You stand there, left wondering

and I'm lost within the sky.
The twine floats back, back to you
and I'm numb without it there.

Away I fall lost to you

as I crash upon some tree,
leaving you with tangled twine -
the folly of flying kites.
Life Can Be A Turnip Or A Rose
Life can be a turnip or a rose -
One can give sustenance or beauty.
Life can be a feather or a brick -
One can go gently or break a window.
Life can be red or blue -
One can have passion or compassion.
Life can be a fox or a rabbit –
One can hunt or be hunted.
Life can be phone call or a letter –
One is right away, but then what have you got?

Life can be…

All things being equal, I’d rather be an apple.
Life’s About the Adjectives
Life’s about the adjectives,
it’s how we know the world.
Nouns, you see, are only names,
with adjectives - life is knurled.

Think about the apple,

just fruit upon the tree,
red ripe skin with tasty pulp,
better lets us see.

Providing us the texture,

of color if you will,
ADJ allows us space,
to give our lines the fill.

Life’s about the adjectives,

spice for the written line,
Verbs, you see, are motion,
and index things like time.

Think about the race car,

going around the lane,
zipping fast with lightning speed,
better feeds the brain.

Providing us the feeling,

of nature if you will,
ADJ gives the taste,
to writings we distill.

Verbs contain the action,

and nouns have the heart,
adjectives add the flavor,
for cooks of written art.

Life’s about the adjectives,

how else could it be,
that words paint the pigments,
in poems for us to see?
 Life's Bouquet
The faded light betrays the truth -
day's life has passed me by.
Not life lived, for that remains
as memories in my soul.
'Tis life unused, a barren seed,
that time has swept away with ease,
just like dust upon the floor,
the musky scent of it lingering in the air.

After night's long reign the sun will rise

shining its warmth upon my new dreams.
It is left to me to live this day complete,
more memories for my soul.
I’ll sow the seeds and watch dreams grow
strong against the wind.
We live each day or let it die -
there's no one else to blame.

Choose life today, smell its sweet bouquet.

Little Dancers
As blithe little dancers,
gently decorate the sky,
and move across heavens,
you question the reasons why.

Bright sunshine or cloudy night,

hides them from our view,
- they are there and there they stay,
never failing to imbue.

Give to us? Yes they do,

in whispers so profound;
it’s not with ears you have to hear,
for they speak without a sound.

Quiet you mind and listen deep,

to that voice within your soul,
lay yourself upon the grass,
and give to them control.

There flat upon the ground,

the dancers work their art,
and take from you the burdens,
that poison your very heart.

“Just things up there, in the sky,”

some believe the stars to be,
for them nothing is certain,
no “thing” can set them free.

For me the stars are angels,

that live up in the sky,
they give to us God’s wisdom,
and answer the question why.
 Love and Fear
Two emotions are all we have
to guide us though our life
Two impressions of how things are
no matter what our strife
The first is fear and strong it is
for fear can blind the soul
that moment in time when it calls
it twists and takes control
The other's love and stronger still
nothing can take its place
for love is truth within the soul
our share of godly grace
A newborn cries in to the world
a statement made from fear
It cries alone but soon will ease -
a mother's voice to hear
For a mother's bliss shows us best
the strength love holds within
it conquers fear in whispered
sounds
when a life does begin
That day of days a child knows love
yet a mother finds fear
worried of things to harm her child
and clings and holds it near
Hate and joy we surely feel
but not deep at our core
They are just things that we have
learned
since that day we were bore
We wrongly name the things we
feel
emotions in a group
as if they held an equal strength
like stock to make a soup
Truth is all the others derive
from two we really hold
They make us human as we learn
hate just can't be that bold
So think of things you truly love
their loss will show you fear
from love and fear true value
comes
to all we hold so dear
 Love’s Corner
Just why do we love the way that we do?
It seems such a consuming thing, nothing left at all
How much of my soul will love take?
All it seems. All!
The empty corner in which it lived is barren, blank and still
my essence, my very essence has slipped onto the floor.

Love’s addiction holds me fast, tightly and firm

I do not mind, even in love’s ruins I feel at home
Isn’t love unrequited, love nonetheless?
Each heartbeat says yes. Yes!
For new love seeks an empty room to fill, color and warm
my essence covered floor invites love’s return.
 Loves Last Moment

Missing the days and times we talked,

you sought me as a friend.
Long ago feelings hidden, but never put to rest,
boil within my soul.
How could there ever be anything but love between us?
Will I ever be free?

I hope, beyond hope that someday we will return,

to that happy place we sought.
Time does not diminish what the heart can feel,
nor will it release me.
My door, my heart, my soul will always be open,
why do you knock again?

You claim me your only friend, one you can trust;

to me you turn in times of need.
Ask your question and destroy my soul,
for another you have found.
Words come as burning arrows into my flesh,
my heart beats no more.

I live in love’s last moment, and tightly do I grip,

‘tis my buoy upon the sea.
I tell you to go be happy with this love you’ve found,
what else can I do?
Love’s last moment for you has past, nothing of it remains,
the last of you ripped from me.

Bitter taste of wanting you is the meal on which I feed;

it gives a sickly warmth.
Love demands I give you up and let you go your way;
love does not care for me.
You will never know my empty prison cell; it’s all that’s left me
now.
Love’s last moment.
Misty Rays of Light

Softly light does come to me

through mist-veiled forest boughs
Lighted rays of milky white
just where some void allows

Half-light lives where rays do not

more gray than color true
Yet, rays too are not sincere
they lack truth's special hue

Cathedral walls reaching sky

unchanged from walks before
whites and grays are all I see
upon this forest's floor

Greens and browns and autumn reds

are there but not to see
Light and dark have caged the hues
that long to be set free

A stunning sight, yes it is

but lacks a deeper feel
In the hues that live between
are feelings much more real

I look at dark and at light

as lack of compromise
Extremes that bind to a thought
and leads to things unwise
 Moon Queen
Dressed in yellow-cream, the full moon calls,
as the morning chases night.
”Hurry to me!” her lone, last cry,
I rush to catch her sight.

Covered in blue-gray veils of ribbon clouds,

I see the celestial queen,
dipping low down the western sky,
ever dulling her once-bright sheen.

Her sadly soft nighttime cry,

begs me to listen on,
and have faith in things unseen,
as she retreats from daytime’s dawn.

Gone from sight, she calls no more,

my empress of the night,
but her words in dark keep me strong,
as gray times change to white.

Now daylight rules with bright blue skies,

as the day king takes his turn,
No patience for me this sovereign has,
no word, no lesson to learn.

The day king, you see, is not that bad,

he gives this time to man,
then rules on high and more removed,
allowing each of us our plan.

And fumble we do and run about,

trying to be as wise,
as the nighttime moon that opens hearts,
as she crosses the star filled skies.

So to her words my soul does cling,

as I trek throughout my day,
“Have faith in things you cannot see,”
for by faith we find our way.
 Moonbeams
As softly as a feather’s fall,
the moon does give her light,
and touching down with wispy hues,
each moonbeam joins the night.

A low hung orb will do it best,

throwing a slanted view.
As skipping beams cross many things,
perception goes askew.

In creamy-whites and palest blues,

the moonbeam’s dance and play,
through nighttime’s dark and lonely rule,
on tree limbs as they sway.

I sit and watch the astral dance,

unfold before my eyes,
and consume the moist evening’s air,
which makes up the springtime skies.

Moonbeams are so special, you see,

it’s magic that they hold,
each moment they change what we see,
night’s secrets they unfold.

Moving along to time’s slow beat,

the play is acted out,
and light’s soon joined upon the stage,
as creatures stir about.

Oh what a joy to take them in,

each moonbeam one by one.
Yet, soon they’ll leave me all alone,
as morning makes them run.

The moonbeams set the stage at night,

like angels running free,
that lead me to the morning’s light
a dawn for all to see.
 Morning Song
Songbirds gather in the morning mist,
and greet the rising sun,
like the woodwinds from an orchestra,
with unity, as if controlled by one.

From the warbling call of mated wrens,

that sing throughout the day,
to the staccato cry of the yellowthroat,
I listen to what they say.

With sardonic scorn a crow does caw,

no care to the current song.
The others go on and ignore the brute,
keeping harmony all along.

With each new song the gray gives way,

an owl bids us farewell.
Nighttime is his time to sing,
as he hunts along the trail.

The lighted view has changed the stage,

new soloist are on the way.
“What-cheer, what-cheer!” sings the robin,
as he struts along the day.

“Tweedle-tweedle-tchak,” is soon replied,

by a mockingbird now seen.
Not impressed with his red-crest friend,
he picks at his stolen bean.

A joyous rite they do each morn,

as they sing along,
and give to us the special joy,
of hearing morning’s song.
 My Days with Carol

Lonely was my heart all the days I roamed

Each one as before, no comfort to be found
So it was, the days before she came into my life
Only moments of joyous bliss spotted the sad fabric of my
soul
The brightest spot by far was the day she came to me
Our moments in the sun, as we dreamed lover’s dreams
To look upon her face and see her pirate’s smile
freed me from the shackles of my leathered heart
Alas, one cannot stay in the sun too long
Nor could she stay with me, nor could she with me
It has no good or bad - no measure of right and wrong
It was her heart that was not free to give, regretfully so

Lonely is my heart this new day that I roam

Though not like before, I know comfort now
So it is, this day she left my life
Wondrous thoughts of her spot the new fabric of my soul
The brightest spot by far remains that special day
Walking in the sun - I dream a lover’s dream
I think of her lovely face that won me with a smile
allowing me to avoid the shackles that seek a supple heart
Lo, pity me not for loosing her special sun
It shall stay with me always, stay with me always
Still no good or bad – nor right and wrong
it was my heart I freely gave, and joyfully so
 My Thoughts at the Bedruthan Steps
Walking along a hedgerowed lane
I wander toward the shore
While stopping at some moss-laced stone
I'm lost in Briton's lore

The rock lined walls down narrow ways

add to the ancient feel
Holds me close like a blanket's warmth
with secrets to reveal

Walking again, I reach the sea

galed by the ocean's wind
On this cliff I feel more alive
and call this land my friend

And through this place I understand

this country’s special core
It gives me hope for better days
walking along this shore

From Cornwall's point to Shetland's shore

history fills each mile
By Aberdeen one finds her soul
stretching to Jersey Isle

But here the Steps will tell the truth

to all that stroll this way
The gloried past will come alive -
whispers on ocean's spray

A better soul I now possess

these Steps they do inspire
So listen fast and walk the length
and you can gain her fire

Poet’s Note:
The Bedruthan Steps run along the western Cornish coast of England. It is a
ruggedly beautiful place with a ever-present wind. One cannot help but be
inspired by it.
 No Better Friend
It looks like a twig of three feet tall,
a gnarled little stem and no leaves at all.
With winter all gone, ahh… warm days at last,
this twig will pump life, surprisingly fast.

Soon I will see green over there,

where now small branches hold only air.
With pride I’ll delight in my colorful thumbs,
as if I’ll play a part in what it becomes.

Springtime gives life, it’s all Nature’s plan,

nothing so real can be done by man.
All I can do is deciding the where,
to our earthly mother I entrust its care.

For thirteen weeks Spring gives it her love,

with days of sunshine and some rain from above.
Then filled with sap and a full mane of leaves,
this tree will bear fruit, turning birds into thieves.

For now I will watch each day with delight,

as my tree grows strong right before my sight.
Springtime’s a friend who asks nothing of me,
except digging a hole and planting a tree.
 Patient Death
Be careful - you mortal souls,
my powers you cannot know –
I wait.

You toil and work, stupidly

your time-marked days slipping away–
I wait.

Sooner or later, they are the same to me,

you choose, either will do –
I wait.

Among you I stand, but you see me not.

Here I am, still you do not see –
I wait.

Be you beggar-man or saint,

that is how you judge the world, not I –
I wait.

Think me evil?
Someday you’ll call me friend –
‘till then, I’ll wait.
 Pearls
You wear around your neckline
a lucid strand of pearls
but to think they hold your beauty -
an error made by girls

Pearls do complement the woman

everyone knows it's true
but yet something more goes on
beyond what a pearl can do

See, a pearl can only focus

the charms you keep inside
yes, the woman is the secret
the pearls bring out with pride

For a pearl alone is nothing

just some small piece of grit
they only enhance the beauty
that's there before they're fit

So wear your pearls on the evenings

and look your very best
but the beauty lies within you
it matters not to how you're dressed!
 Porch Swing
Slowly we move as in a glide,
and in my arms you rest,
as a toe’s push propels the ride,
your cheek upon my chest.
In slow motion we drift the tide,
to pause upon the crest,
and then gently back soon we’ll slide,
retorting chain’s protest.

So back and forth we pass the time,

enchanted by this thing.
As distant bells then strike and chime,
from the church where they ring,
to etch the soul – a point sublime,
marked by the last bell’s ting.
Then we rise above life’s abyme,
from moments on a swing.

Such simple joys often ignored,

while success’ line we queue.
I gain from this a soul restored,
my moments spent with you.
A swing may be just chain and board,
but love it can imbue.
So join me soon and we’ll record,
more feelings that are true.
 Prism Glass
Days go by as drops of rain.
Hours pass; too many to count.
When will we end our isolation?
The worth of living is wrapped only
in thoughts of you.
The rain drops act as a prism glass,
colors move about like exotic dancers,
greens, blues, and shades of red.
You are my prism!
Breaking the world into wonderful hues.
Each day without you is reduced to
black and white.
When will I see color again?
 Reduce to Gain
When life looks dark and beyond control
take time to heart and set a goal.
Something small and within your reach
relax your mind - a trick I'll teach.

Your net's been cast, both wide and deep

guide its throw to better your keep.
Complex work is before you now
just break it down - I'll show you how.

Sailors upon the rolling sea

will reef their sails as storms they flee.
So pull life back to hold to your course
focus your heart - it is the source.

Soon you will have a goal that's done

yes, it was small but still you've won.
Then you'll pick the next task to chase
feel in your heart - you'll win this race
 Reflections
To see the path my heart will follow
is a view without an end.
Each day I find new hope.
Each day I find new despair.
With the coming of age I find myself numbed
and little time for childhood dreams.

I look back thru rose-colored eyes

and see heroic deeds.
My childhood quests are over now-
did we find a grail?
I see the children and the answer is yes
for now they own the dreams.

Mine are memories preserved with care

neatly in a shoebox, high on a shelf.
Notes to myself, letters from friends, photographs-
they all are there, is this to be my legacy;
or is there greatness yet to come?
We shall see!
 Sailboats

Saltwater sprays across the bow

as the hull-line cuts the sea.
Close trimmed sails pulling fast
as wind blows and sets us free.

Freedom from land and its woes

that tempts us to its cell
gives way to us for nature's care
as across the waves we sail.

The rigging sings its sanguine song

of those who rode before.
They sing of loss and wonders found
and heroic tales of lore.

From crested wave to downward troughs

we travel and carry on.
In sight of land or open sea
the point's to sail along.

So man the wheel and point the craft

it's a pleasure few will know.
Be it noontime's sun or Midwatch stars
for sure your soul will glow.
 Sailing the Surf Line
Like a sailboat beyond the wave's violent ways
using the blowing breeze to run the tide
I will sail my soul true throughout my days
for love's breath is upon me as I glide

And rope, and sail, and man become as one

when rage of wave and sea they overcome
in mind, in soul, in me the task is done
when rage of loss and fear dares make me numb

Wind seems the magic when one takes to sail

traveling the spaces between the land
Love is heart's magic with which we prevail
to pass the lonely times we oft do stand

As a sail without wind is simply in the way

without your love, I'd live a sad, useless day
 Sancho Panza
Tell me the truth dear Sancho -
they say I've been a fool
for you are the faithful one
that binds, binds me to the world

Some clam my foes just windmills

so tell me again they're beasts
let me live to my purpose
dear Sancho, tell me again

Too long this path we travel

yet, still long before we rest
help me for my guard is weak
and questions bother my soul

Am I the fool they speak of

or a knight upon a quest?
Can my heart be so selfless
or have I already failed?

Nothing am I without you

standing always by my side
no matter where lives the beast
always you stand by my side

Tell me the truth dear Sancho -

they say I've been a fool
for you will not lie to me
when I ask you of such things

If dragons are in my mind

they're still dragons nonetheless
Help me again, dear Sancho
and stand with me one more time
 Sea-Foam
Endless sea-foam ribbons twist along the shore left by waves,
waves recalled into the sea. Many waves, their numbers never to be known.
With a drunkard’s walk I trace their path at the water’s edge.
Though the path I trod leads nowhere, it still gives me direction.
My body follows my eyes, my eyes follow the foam, the endless twisting
foam.

Endless sporadic emotions twist within my mind left by pain,

pains long ago endured. My pains! Too many to count, these pains that I
have known.
With a drunkard’s folly I bring them back from my soul’s darker edge.
Though to do so helps nothing, it still gives me direction.
My mind follows my soul, my soul follows the emotions, my endless twisting
emotions.

Sea-foam is the evidence of waves that once washed upon the shore.
The proof they did exist. What more could you ask of a wave? Nothing.
Emotions are the evidence that my soul is still there within me.
The proof it does exist. What more dare I ask of my soul? Nothing at all.
I do not follow the wave, nor do I the pain, sea-foam and emotions are
enough for me.
 Shooting Star
On a cold clear night with a million stars
I watched one streak the sky
A flickering sprite shooting straight past Mars
grew bold to catch my eye

For a moment of time this life burned bright

and held my solemn gaze
It was soon devoured with no trail in sight
and left me in a haze

Then this impatient star that streaked the night -

gave thought along my way
Some orbs shine still while yet others take flight
each, with its roll to play

We live out our lives much like a star

moving throughout the day
Pulled by hidden forces both near and far
we're changed along the way

Some will stay put and give a guiding light

for everyone to see
Others will shoot out far and blaze from sight
being burned by breaking free
 Some Say
Some say it’s a waste of time
this love I have for you.
Some say just move on
and find a heart that’s true.

I say I know my soul

and to do so means I die.
I say love’s not a switch
if so, I would surely try.

Some say that I am a fool

to love one who doesn’t care.
Some say that it’s just no good
and I treat myself unfair.

I say that all should love

and believe the way I do.
I say no pain can end
a love that is so true.

Some say just let it go

as if it were my call.
Some say you’ll love again
a soul will soon enthrall.

I say love runs its course

without help from me.
I say it’s time that tells
of what this love’s to be.

You still say it’s a waste of time

this love I have for you?
I say you may be right
but what else can I do?
 South Carolina

Through the shadow of a marsh bound
palm,
I see the crescent moon,
its waved reflection on water's calm -
have I found Brigadoon?
Rounding the state such wonders you'll
find,
to make a fitting crown,
close to all, the capital's designed
Columbia is the town!

Through Sheldon's ruins near the
swampy lane,
the coast-men call to me.
From days of old with rites arcane,
they won a home that's free.
Freedom for all took a bit more time,
eighty-odd years, or so,
and a hundred more it took us to climb,
to be more friend than foe.
As the Piedmont's loam does meet the
marsh,
and rivers cross the land;
the winters are clam and never harsh,
and living here is grand.
In the upstate mountains reign supreme
with great cathedraled ways,
we meander down a crystalline stream,
thank God for such simple days.
Judge her by size and she's not that
large,
for many have more space.
Judge her by heart and she leads the
charge,
for heart does rule this place.
So at Sheldon's ruins I make this vow,
to coast-men from before,
"I take up your call, she's my home
now,
I'll keep her selfless lore."
Through the shadow of a marsh bound
palm,
I know this crescent moon.
The waved reflection on water's calm,
'tis more than Brigadoon

Then rounding East back towards the

coast,
the Sand Hills you can climb.
With pixie moss to planted pine we toast
Nature's grace - so sublime.

And down further still, next to the sea,

Charleston fills your sight.
Through history's time she's paid the
fee
and yet her future's bright.
 Still, the Nightingale Sings

The newspaper brings destruction to my door

still, the nightingale sings
Pain in the discourse dripping from the ink
leaving me no happy thought
Do I dare hear your feathered song?
Sing nightingale, sing

Words of man's vulgar existence rake my soul

still, the nightingale sings
The weight of loss sinks deep into my breast
each heartbeat burns me anew
Can your lullaby quiet my soul?
Sing nightingale, sing

The damage of once turned pages upon me

still, the nightingale sings
The paper's now something for the fire
give to me your sweet refrain
Will you heal my heart again tomorrow?
Sing! Nightingale, sing!
 Tar Baby
Words that trap and words that scheme,
they surround us every day.
Some absurd and some obscene,
we will hear along the way.

Often things from days of old,

are pocketed from the lines,
distorted lies then unfold,
truth’s essence, it undermines.

Silly ones so quick to judge,

or believe in ways severe,
give offense and hold a grudge,
on people they clearly fear.

Tar baby - a sticky snare,

and so proper for this rhyme,
a trap it is - please beware,
keep the meaning from its time.

No racial slur does it mean,

or a harmful slap to grant.
The moral’s there in the scene.
So read it, to get the slant.

Stupid fools will take great work,

and pervert it with disgrace,
people, not words are the jerk,
so just throw it in their face!

Do not let fools take from us,

the good, great works of our past.
Shake your head but make no fuss,
from ignorance they’ve been cast.
Ten Thousand Tears for Darfur
Ten thousand voices cry in the night
and find no comfort from the sound
Ten thousand more are hushed, beyond life's plight
and find communion in the ground

Ten thousands ways to explain the toll

but not one that reports the truth
Ten thousand grains that steam in a bowl
holds more value than that dark-faced youth

Ten thousand vile men do take their cut

from the little nations care to give
Ten thousand times we follow this rut
life drains as water though a sieve

The thousand dreams that see better days

we need to help the world turn right
Ten thousand boot-heals upon the neck
until al-Bashir ends this fight

Ten thousand days have that long passed by

without much in the way of peace
Ten thousand more allowed to slip through
before this violence starts to cease?

Ten thousand shames we have to bear

for this deafness that we've found
Ten thousand voices cry in the night
we've done nothing to ease its sound
 Testing Water
The calm of silky waters
with its green-gray mirrored glaze
calls to all the children
"come, come try my sparkling maze."

Too soon without hesitation

they leap without a care
and splash into the tide-pool
to answer her tempting dare.

Shallow or deep, truth does come

takes just a moment's time
is it safely deep and free from harm
or is danger beneath the brine?

Much like the silky waters

with its bright shimmering blaze
life tempts us in all our moments
"come, come run my twisting maze."

So soon we take the challenge

and jump with a mighty leap
that finds us in a tempest
as we flee our tide that’s neap.

Unsteady or sure, our futures found

after our moment having fun
is it surety had, and a life of ease
or did we trip and fall undone?

We all must see the folly

in answering the water's call
before we know the price we'll pay
and to danger we befall.

So think about your actions

long before you make that jump
be sure you test the waters
and avoid that painful thump.
The Beauty of Every Woman
The beauty of every woman
is not about the look
and to think it so would be the same
as the drop to sum the brook

Her soul's the place where beauty writes

each volume of her tome
Then soon the essence of every book
finds her heart and calls it home

From her heart-page each measure is read

to discover her gentle ways
providing to all life's caring love
and guide us throughout our days

The beauty of every woman

is all about the soul
Her spirit being life's precious scribe
etching upon our scrolls

You see, true beauty is a woman

no matter what her face
for beauty is seen by special eyes
put simply, ‘tis godly grace
 The Day I Found You
We sat upon a swing that day
and made the world our own
We talked with more than words could say
with seeds our thoughts had sown

For love began upon that swing

our souls became as one
For us the world had joys to bring
through this life that we've run

I look back now, that day I see

and know I found my soul
It's from life's dark you set me free
and with your love made whole

I love you for you, but really much more

you taught me to love, you opened love’s door
 The Halloween Road
The road was wet and full of wild
as nighttime crept and took the
sky.
So long ago I was a child
to young to care or reason why.
My mom had said to mind the
time
as dark that night would sure
come fast,
but off I went to play and climb
and lost all track as day marched
passed.
The darkly woods held craggy
views
next to the well-worn path I trod.
A study made in blue-gray hues
covered the limbs, the rocks, the
sod.
Just what was there I cannot say
for to the road I kept my feet,
but noise arose where night met
day
a beastly low grumbling beat.
Just time before, 'bout half day's
span
'twas a most happy place to be.
The birds, the sun both with me
ran
upon the path down to the sea.
But day was lost along that route
so darkened by the dim of night.
Courage was gone and soon I'd
shout
at ghostly things that gave a
fright.
So run I did with foot of wing
lightning fast - as ever I'd go.
To make it home, it was the thing
home safe from fear I came to
know.
Yes! There it was upon the porch
the glow of a heavenly light.
I fled the woods straight to the
torch
home safe to start Halloween's
night.
That night I stayed to tend the
dole
as ghosts and ghouls did ring the
bell,
candy and luck, it was their goal
why they'd tempt a witching
night's spell.
I'd had my fill, was brave no more
costume or mask I would not
wear.
My pride was bruised, yes -it was
sore
I'd had my fill of being scared.
For me, that time it was enough
to sit by the Autumn night's fire,
I left to others to be so tough
and temp the devil's own desire.
The Night’s Long Battle
Windy wild foreboding night,
blowing things about.
Tree limbs bow to your call,
with arms reaching out.

Beating fast my heart does pound,

no comfort in this place.
Running fast I know not where,
or how to win this race.

Tangled now within their grasp,

I try to struggle free.
Holding tight, with gnarled hands,
the branches tear at me.

Before I fade from loss of breath,

I fight and try to scream.
Awake I do, in a pool of sweat,
alas, ‘twas just a dream!
The Rain, The Bird, The Fox
The slow awakening rumble
that reaches across the sky
is chased by winds that mumble
rustling through trees in reply

Skies are cloaked in darkly gray

as shadows displace the air
A storm of spring's on the way
with lightning to flash its glare

The fox forgets the marsh wren

that held its dangerous gaze
and scurries off to some den
to avoid such stormy days

The wren showing lack of fear

holding fast upon the yew
sings to the storm drawing near
to return the sky to blue

But storms care not for little birds

as they lash and whip the land
They reply with rain as words
and laugh at the small one's stand

All that's seen is cloaked in rain

as the furry then arrives
But from this it's life we gain
and upon it we survive

The bird and fox play a part

within this rain-scripted play
A blessed sight from nature's heart
observed on a rainy day
The Opposite of Love

Although many think it, it’s not hate.

People have to feel to hate.
Another group sees it as anger,
That is so very far from the truth.
How can any feeling at all be the opposite of love?
You cannot love and lack feeling.
 The Sound of Snow
The sound of snow takes on many a form
molds itself to all and soon surrounds it
But when it floats and falls - leaves the swarm
'tis the soft "shhhhh..." the soul cannot forget

It calms as the sound slowly covers me

and makes me part of the world around
Still, the white veil does not change leaf or tree
but gently covers all and peace is found

A monochrome world that moment exists

for all I hear and see become as one
But if we'd keep it so, we'd be remiss
accepting the lie of such beauty spun

This sound of snow gives just a moment's peace

but for that moment… pain and hatred cease
The Tale of a Person
As the tale of a person’s life
begins before their birth
in times past told and stories spun
one finds a sense of worth.

On father’s knee or from an old aunt’s wit

the stories take on paint.
From pirate, Doc, or baker man
they muse with some restraint.

The tales all grow each time they’re told

and catch a special lore.
The yarns burst big - larger than life
but keep a truthful core.

In fireside chats and seashore strolls

you taste this lovely wine.
From words and laughs you drink it up
for its soul is quite benign.

So how it was, is how it is,

and thus will ever be.
Accounts of loss and lives well lived,
they weave life’s tapestry.

Lo, spend your gold on days like these

for soon the cupboard’s bare.
Give your time to your loving kin,
on walks and talks in the seaside air.
The Thousand Pieces
The thousand pieces that were my heart
are strewn about the floor.
Mingled with dust and forgotten things,
the vessel beats no more.
I searched the land on a sacred quest,
like Arthur’s men of lore,
for the grail-like power you held within,
the soul I quested for.

Time after time my heart did break,

and weaken every day,
leaving my soul in an empty place,
your light - all gone away.
The color of love I could see no more,
and soon I lost my way.
Distraction and despair devoured me slow,
as hope changed to grey.

A merciless void became my home,

a place for me to dwell,
darkness and pain, my only friends,
company within this cell.
Lost within time, I passed the days;
yearning for death’s sweet bell,
to free my spirit from this quest,
pardoned from its hell.
 The Tide Before Christmas
Twas the tide before Christmas, and all along the bay
not a creature was swimming, not even a ray
The shrimp boats were moored pier side with care,
in hopes that large fish schools soon would be there.

The sand crabs were nestled all snug by the dunes

and dreamed of beach combing eluding the loons.
And you in your waders and I wrapped with a mat
headed home from beach walking, 'twas too cold for no hat.

When just then the sea arose in a lather

I tripped over my feet only able to blather.
Away to the dunes we flew with a crash
and looked at the water alive with a splash

The moon on the spray up from the boil

gave a strange glow to all of this toil.
When, to our amazement should appear,
an odd clam-sleigh with shrimp for reindeer

Yes he was there, but not like you'd expect

ol' nick was in shorts, from vacation I suspect
Faster than dolphin his champions did ply
singling their names, it seemed they would fly.

"Now Flounder! now Crabby! now, Pincher and Whaley,

On, Conch Shell, On Coral, on Sailfish and Eelie.
To the top of a swell to the top of a wave
Now swim away! Swim away, Swim away -be brave!"

As foam on the waves in whirlwind takes flight

or tide bends and rips and you angle right
So up to the wave crest the champions then swam
with St Nick and the toys, and his sleigh made of clam.

And then just so softly, we heard on the sand

the clicking and snapping of shrimp on the land.
As we hid in the dunes and pulled ourselves low
next to our side, we saw St Nicholas' glow.

Not dressed like you'd think from his heed to his foot
beach-ish were his clothes, at least there's no soot
 The toys were all dry and kept safely from harm
He looked like a Parrothead and so full of charm

His face was quite tan and blown was his hair,
his sandals were all worn from years of wear.
His mouth had a smile only beachcombers know
and his tan made his beard whiter than snow.

A stir-straw he chewed, the type from a drink

with salt on his chin, from a margarita I think
I knew when he smiled he truly was real
and his belly shock some as he turned on his heel

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly ol' salt

but somehow seemed saintly, with nary a fault
and then he did wink and widened his smile
as if to just say the nights task is worthwhile

We followed behind as he went to each home

next to the beach from where we did roam
Some magic he used to enter each one
checking his list until he was done

Then back to the clam, that carried him fast

and away the shrimp pulled and huffed in a blast
We heard him exclaim as he sailed out of sight
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Based on Clement Clarke Moore’s A Visit From St. Nickolas (The Night Before Christmas)
The Tome Within

What church has God created,

or mosque, or temple to pray?
What God created was stone
and tree and ore within steel,
nothing, nothing made by man.
What road then leads to heaven,
on the land or sea or air?
Our Home has no direction
no matter plan, scheme, or thought,
takes a soul to guide a man.
What book can teach me better,
Bible, Quran or Torah's scroll?
They lack soul's requirement
and are empty to my eyes,
for His tome's within my heart -
I’ve no need of God explained.
 To Mom
You are a lady,
that, you will always be.
You are sunshine,
there to brighten my day.
You are happiness,
to make sadness fade away.
You are wisdom,
to show me - when I stray.
You are my teacher,
to follow along the way.
You are my mother,
for that, I thank God every day.
 Touching
A touch can mean a thousand things,
truth is, maybe more.
The wonders and joy that touching brings,
can open a long-closed door.

Emotions swell inside your soul,

testing every route,
on how to breach the dam or form a hole-
It’s touch that lets them out.

A touch can be a splendid way,

to reach a lover’s soul.
Each layer of armor moved away,
as fingers press and stroll.

To your lover’s care you so entrust,

the essence of who you are.
Released from the ground as with angle’s dust,
your soul can reach a star.

A touch’s magic makes a beautiful gift,

for lovers in the night.
As touching sets one’s soul adrift,
and frees it with its might.

Not only you did touching heal,

for I too received its gift.
You gave to me something real,
you mended my inner rift.
 Truth or Darkness
Truth can be the banshee
screaming in the night
Truth can’t be the villain
hiding out of sight

Never is it timid
failing to come through
More it is the feeling
that keeps one’s heart so true.

Darkness is no monster
to pull you to the deep
Darkness only covers
the ones who sneak and creep

Truth has no darkness,

it’s more a light that’s free
Truth begins with believing,
in the darkness you can see.
 Under the Bong Tree
The moon shined bright through the bong tree,
over the sandy shore they roamed.
Reckless and wild with hearts so free,
they became lovers so far from home.

Hours they lost and the moon hung low,

as nighttime slipped them by.
Only this night with heavenly glow,
for tomorrow they part and sigh.

A tryst some say, or love affair?

was never meant to last.
But a moonlit night without a care,
can open the heart so fast.

Moonlight shines on the beach again,

but no lovers to be found.
For home they’ve gone to wonder when,
love’s passion again will sound.
 Unfulfilled dreams
Unfulfilled dreams when life does end
are the saddest dreams of all.
For each one dreamed became a friend
that ends with the heartbeat's fall.

When at last it’s my day to go.

dreams I hope my mind will fill.
And yes it’s sad but even so
days without dreams - sadder still.
Unwanted knock
Tap, tap, tap...
each second slips away
Each second, each second
forever slips away

Rap, rap, rap...

comes loudly on my door
Comes loudly, comes loudly
pounding upon my door

No, no, no...

I retreat from this sound
Retreating, retreating
fleeing the bothersome sound

Go, go, go!

leave me within my shell
Leave me, leave me
'lone in my wondrous shell
Venus and the Crescent Moon
A cool waxen peel of light,
kissed gently upon the sky,
A greenish nymph calls from night,
and waits for the moon’s reply,

Earthshine gives her ghostly glow,

to the crescent moon’s remains;
night permits the sprite to show,
a bright dot of cottoned grain.

Play the night the bodies do,

each chasing the Milky Way,
joy and hope they do imbue,
armor for our coming day.

Venus goes fast through the night,

while asking the moon to stay;
She knows their place in our sight,
and winks as she fades away.

Things in the sky have a life,

and great guidance to bestow,
a flash reprieve from our strife,
’tis a better path they show.

Watch the night on special eves,

and see this for yourself,
beyond the boughs full of leaves,
moon slice awaits impish elf.
 Water Drops
Silky water drops trace a path,
like a drunkard in the lane.
I watch as they fall one by one
off a broken windowpane.

Arrow-like then, they chase the ground,

so now the pathway is true.
For water has a changing heart,
it is much like me and you.

At times our love meanders 'round

and has no direction set.
Other times - a laser line,
advancing straight, in a jet.

Water, like love, a precious thing;

lo without it we will die.
So drop by drop I drink your love,
'tis my soul it does supply.
 Waves and Rocks
With furious force each wave does
crash
pounding the rock-lined shore
Each has power within itself
neither will win the war.
Time after time waves do come
to meet their craggy foe
The waves give slap to the face
of rocks that take each blow.
The wave's no more, soon as it
lands
its force becomes a spray
The rocks resist and hold the line
but slowly wear away.
Over time waves reduce the rock
down to be simply sand
But sand remains to hold this flow
along this coastal strand.
Stalemates the word for this fight
yes, neither side will win
In nature's world its what they do
but for man - 'tis a sin!
We don't have the power of God
to wage an endless war
In youth's pure blood we seed the
fight
and Satan keeps the score.
Not for the lost does he keep count
on his dark tally-board
He counts the ones that waste them
so -
they will have his reward.
Stupid is man to act like waves
pounding upon the shores
God gave us love in endless depths
with love we open doors.
Like a wave we can wear away
opponents that we face
but in the end they'll still be there
so why dare run the race?
Someday, I pray, we understand
we're more than just some wave
We carry God's love in our souls
in love our future's paved.
 Webs
Walking the woods in morning time
tells my heart a tale.
As delicate dew adorns the ground,
I leave a winding trail.
Stopping to see a spider’s work,
a shimmering dew-dropped veil,
glinting with rays of cock-crow light
that makes this tree a jail.
The keeper spins her silky twine,
giving care to each detail,
weaving around in a spiral path,
‘tis sure that she’ll prevail.
The trap is set; she lays in wait,
for prey she’ll soon assail.
Leaving the woods I start my day,
and ponder about the scale
of webs so weaved to snare my feet -
will I struggle to no avail?
 Well Lived

A life well lived will always be

a home for heart,
for you,
for me

So live life well and live it free

record each day,
you live,
you see
 What Stars Know
The far off lights that paint the sky
as dark does veil the Phoebus stage
and the crescent moon's winking eye
do know the truth of wars we wage

For land, for God, for things profound

we give as reasons why we fight
but orbs up high retort the sound
of angry words proclaiming right

Tis death and pain that man does sow

upon this home, our home - the earth
the cost exceeds what we can know
are we so vain to set life's worth?

To learn from stars is what we must do

Live and let live is the path that's true
When the Banshee Calls
Life is just a tirade
of many things to do,
while running from the banshee
that lives within the yew

She wails out her warning,

"your tirade soon will end!"
Warns us to be living
each day we have to spend

Soon her call is answered

no more, we run around
the banshee then will guide us,
we trail her wailing sound

Thinking as we journey
about the days we had -
how we should of filled them
with love and not just fad

'Tis easy for the young

to think life will not end
thought is nigh given to
fences they've yet to mend

Yes, comes be the banshee

to end the slip if time
Too late then for mending,
fences you roughshod climbed

So learn from her wailing

on others she does seethe
and make sure you give love
each day you have to breathe
 Why am I here?
To everyone, it’s plain to see
Overcast gloom controls me no more

Like a trumpet sounding loudly

Over the ramparts of my heart- telling all that
Verily you grant freedom to my soul as I
Enjoy the essence of who you are

Yonder days I fear no more

On the contrary, I await each moment of them for
Unyielding joy is the promise of you
 Words Cannot Describe
Do you know just what you have done to my heart?
Can you see the depths of joy you've given me?
Words will always fail for you I hold apart,
and by loving me now you set my soul free.

Can words describe the true feelings of a soul?

What chance then has the poet to scribe a line?
Weakly then I tell you my tattered soul's whole,
and hope I can show you've made life divine.

The best of my words will never say complete,

for I long to put heaven upon the page,
warm you in a quilt of words with my soul's heat,
hold you and protect you from life’s cold and rage.

In the end love knows nothing about a sentence or a word,

so all I can do's love you improving on that’s simply absurd.
 Words Upon the Sea
She is an endless page upon which to write
with waves to organize her lines
She never critiques or disapproves
but accepts your thoughts with an open soul

Still, as each moment passes and new words form

old ones wash away sinking into her depth
you know your thoughts are safe with her as you write
with your finger-pen upon the waves

Tell your secrets to the sea, she always listens

She only requires an honest heart
as you stand there hip deep with toes in sand
waiting to write your note upon the infinite sea page
You Cannot Burn My Flag
You cannot burn my flag,
though often times you try.
You cannot pull it down,
I’m sure you wonder why.

My flag you see is not a cloth,

or something made of man.
It has no perch atop a pole,
to wave about like some fan.

My flag is life within this land,

a point you do not get.
It’s our soul and will of heart,
not some trifle to beset.

You cannot burn my flag,

and make a stupid chide.
To burn a cloth and shout some words,
is screaming at the tide.

And why our flag you try to burn,

though many you seem to hate?
Our flag is freedom for the soul,
and freedom to danger you equate.

So do your best and play your games,

your moment on the stage.
We look at you for what you are,
just lemmings, in a rage.