The heart is a muscle,
and the nerves are electric.
Through this ongoing bustle,
the world skews geometric,
Continue reading “The Heart is a Muscle”and the nerves are electric
The heart is a muscle,
and the nerves are electric.
Through this ongoing bustle,
the world skews geometric,
Continue reading “The Heart is a Muscle”snowy evening dreams
Just where I am, I do not know.
My mind is full of storm clouds though;
I wish I did not fall asleep
and let the twilight nightmares flow.
Continue reading “A Nightly Stroll”The mountain can too sing
of what tomorrow brings;
The mountain can too sing
Of what tomorrow brings;
It prophesies of sin and hope and fear.
Continue reading “The Mountain Can Too Sing”On faith and failing
The mountain doesn’t sing
Of what tomorrow brings.
It only ever whispers in the wind.
Continue reading “The Mountain Doesn’t Sing”on growth and beauty
A tree starts young as just a seed
to grows its roots and trunk, it needs
water, air, and light from Sol,
so with a wish, I dig a hole,
and place the seed down deep inside,
cover with dirt and hopes, then I
walk away. The seed stays in the ground.
In days or weeks, it is bound
to poke its green head from the earth
soon to fill mankind with mirth
for all who gather surely know
the tree will grow and grow and grow
and one day offer fruit to eat.
They’ll taste the citrus, tart and sweet.
But interest lost–it takes too long
to germinate, grow big and strong
enough for branches to hold the fruit
the impatient one had once pursued.
Still slowly, carefully, it grows tall.
It’s remembered to have started small,
but now I barely can believe
the growth it made since I did leave
it all alone there in the soil.
The tree itself did yearn and toil
knowing that one day it could be
a beautiful flowering, fruiting tree.
So there it stands when I come back
with growing branches, hues brown and black
when it is darkened by the rain,
the wet that helped it to remain
Strong and healthy while I was gone
through all those dusks and all those dawns.
It’s not quite ready to flower yet,
But one day soon, I can bet
’cause the world has thus far taken care
of the seed I’d planted there.
So I’ll trust nature to run its course–
that beautiful self-sufficient force.
This tree right here to me has shown
that noticed or not we all have grown
and more than that, we’ll one day see
ourselves with branches flowering.
Though trees and man will surely die,
the citrus will bloom, and (maybe, just maybe) so will I.
Photo by Kindel Media from Pexels
a precipice space
I told you what I wanted was cliff love,
the kind full of reckless abandon and passion.
A precipice space where we could face fears of
explosions, implosions, and things of that fashion.
Continue reading “A Rewrite: I Think I Might Want More”Who loses a single shoe, and where?
A shoe is gone, one of a pair
that once both belonged to me.
Who loses a single shoe, and where?
I look and look, but do not see.
It’s missing maybe for forever;
must have walked off by itself.
See, shoes these days are very clever,
won’t stay in place upon a shelf.
Oh never mind, I just found it,
it’s been here underneath this chair.
Ignore the part the dog clearly bit.
I wonder who could have put it there.
Photo by Skylar Kang from Pexels
Way back then, I asked you to stay.
Just know that I am sorry, okay.
I think that perhaps I want more.
It was just days ago I asked you to stay.
Way back then, I desired that most.
The rain didn’t lightly sprinkle; it poured.
And I realized umbrellas just aren’t enough
as the winds all around me snarled and roared.
I wanted a shelter, I wanted a host.
May break my bones
And if the world went silent
And if the world held still,
would I hold still, too,
or keep on searching to find
something out there left to do?
And if the world went silent,
would I be quiet as well,
or would I make cacophonous music
with a piano to forte swell?
And if the world was all over,
would I at last find some peace
or would I worry about forever
even after my release?
Image by Arek Socha from Pixabay