Sunny summer days
Drift along
Taking my lazy ways
Across river deep and wide
Burst-of-color leaves
Silently fall
Calling my soul to grieve
For things unfinished
Speckled blue skies
Fill with migrating birds
Loudly, their cries
Call, inviting me along
\I yearn to travel
To see family far away
Concerns, worries unravel
Twisting around my fingers
Earth-bound am I
When winter approaches
Eager eyes look to the sky
Seeking freedom
When your dream becomes a reality
you will believe, with some certainty
all your hard work was worth the effort
now earning you well-deserved comfort.
The sky is the limit, some will say
and encourage you to not delay
the constant climb for the cherished prize.
Only then will there be no surprise.
The path is rutted and deadly steep,
filled with boulders and crevices deep.
Yet each small step leads toward success.
You have to focus, with faithfulness.
Dreams are supposed to inspire us, true.
Failure and struggles will challenge you,
orchestrating real disharmony.
Though the reason is still unclear to me.
Insomnia plagues my nights.
She tickles me between the ribs,
plays with my fingers and toes,
counts them one by one
as she props open my sagging
eyelids with her prickly fingers.
She sends shock waves down
my trembling spine. She cramps
muscles well-past exhaustion,
and pinches stretched-thin nerves.
After raking her nails down my
tightened calves, she sits back
and cackles, reveling in my misery.
How I long to slap her face,
To send her flying into my
neighbor’s bed so she can inflict
herself on another unsuspecting soul.
But I don’t.
I restrain myself, praying that she’ll slip
away as quietly as she arrived,
leaving me in peaceful slumber.
Insomnia, you are not my chosen
best friend or my bosom-buddy.
Leave me alone that I may travel
the distant shores of my dream-world,
experience the refreshing dip into the
pools of numbness, and drift deep
into the night, soaking up energy.
Sleep, come to me as softly as
a kitten tiptoeing into my lap.
Lick my parched lips with your
roughened tongue. Caress my
cheeks with your silky fur.
Drip sleep-inducing nectar into
my eagerly waiting eyes, then
rock me to sleep with the rhythmic
beating of your heart.
I await.
Visions of a long ago past
keep clouding my brain,
carrying me back in time
when herds of shaggy buffalo
roamed the verdant plains,
grazing peacefully on the lush
grasses and thinking of little
except taking the next bite.
Nomadic tribes followed the
mighty herds, giving praise
to their gods for the wonders
of sustenance freely given.
Every sinew, every shard of bone,
every inch of hide valuable gems
for improving the quality of life.
Brave warriors, dressed in hides
and lathered in specially-made
potions encircle the unmindful
beasts, seeking those best suited
for the entire tribe’s needs.
Never taking more than would be
consumed, never wasting gifts
for the sake of one small part,
and always thanking the beast’s soul,
for dying so that others may live.
Traditions broken by the arrival
of ungrateful hunters who willingly
destroyed the herds to line their small
pockets with precious gold coins,
in their wake leaving only the
footprints of times long past.
Oh, to be a kitten
To pounce
And leap
With joyful abandon
Instead of the earthbound soul that I am.
Oh, to be a dolphin
To spin
And soar
And splash
With creative pleasure
Instead of the earthbound soul that I am.
Oh, to be an eagle
To dive
And float
And hunt
With crafty precision
Instead of the earthbound soul that I am.
Pouncing, leaping, playing.
Spinning, soaring, splashing.
Diving, floating, hunting.
Loving, laughing, living
The life I’ve been given
As the earthbound soul that I am.
Summer’s games left unplayed, toys strewn,
swings empty, abandoned to winter’s joys.
Air crisp, clean, searing tender lungs
unused to Earth’s frosty chills.
Snow-encrusted gardens long buried
remnants of life lying dormant
until the god of spring caresses the earth,
renewing life once more
Footprints plowing stumbling paths
through unbroken fields of snow,
marking yesterday’s place,
a bookmark in time held captive.
Memories of joyous times romping,
fully clad in protective gear allowing
for frost-bit noses and rosy cheeks,
stiffly frozen fingers tingling with life.
Cloudy breath that turns to ice
covering faces in a death-like pall
gracing the earth with a white shroud
warning the careless of waiting woes.
Until spring finally comes,
the harbinger of rebirth,
rekindling fires of life-enriching
juices flowing.
I wonder where my dad is now
What country or what town?
Do the people even know he’s there?
And care about his men?
I wonder what he’s thinking of?
While I stare at the clouds?
Does he see the same sky that I see?
And smile at the bright sun?
I wonder if he questions
What the war is all about?
Does it make a difference what he does?
And how will it all come out?
I wonder when he does come home
Whom he will smile at first?
Do you think he’ll even recognize me?
And know that I’m his son?
I wonder if he wonders
What I’m thinking of today?
Does he pray for me on bended knee?
And whisper I love you?
Sunny summer days
Drift along
Taking my lazy ways
Across river deep and wide
Burst-of-color leaves
Silently fall
Calling my soul to grieve
For things unfinished
Speckled blue skies
Fill with migrating birds
Loudly, their cries
Call, inviting me along
I yearn to travel
To see family far away
Concerns, worries unravel
Twisting around my fingers
Earth-bound am I
As winter approaches
Eager eyes look to the sky
Seeking freedom
children at play
laugh all the day
rejoice in life
without much strife
wide-eyes surprise
springs from their eyes
dancing, singing
joking, laughing
bubbling with joy
each girl and boy
create the earth
from their own birth
to something new
mystical brew
nary a thought
of something bought
giggling, shouting
each believing
laugh all the day
children at play
From my window
I see children at play
Two tiny boys
Brothers
Bouncing a seemingly large basketball
With skills beyond their sizes
Three girls, maybe eight or nine,
Ride matching pink bikes
Around and around
Weaving in and out of driveways
Between parked cars
Smiling and giggling loudly
A young teen washes his old car
Rubs hard at the rust spots
On the bumper
As if, by that simple act,
He could remove the damages
Of time
One of my neighbors turns on
His electric lawnmower
And all sound is obliterated
obnoxious reverberations
erase the pleasantries
of the summer day
calling me back to
my workday world
I miss the exuberance of children,
The intensity of the teenager,
And the innocent belief in a world
Becalmed in a storm of noise.
Words and Thoughts 