Pages, windows open to the world I send them out to tease and tickle A message or an observation Casting them into the winds to distant eyes
they dance on the tongues and spill into minds, nudging, provoking inspiring an internal response annoying, persisting, affecting.
“you’ve made me cry” they write their tears my happy reward let them cry great rivers for compassion
Rhymes – sometimes I can’t find them so I walk on the other side of the street a different rhythm becomes my strut a feeling of freedom freedom from form and confinement stanzas become strophes meter becomes flow as the garments of creation are changed to the colorful aspects of language painted in poetic prose.
It feels like magic to wield the pen to cast the lines in black and white knowing readers will chant them aloud to find, their, deeper meaning in the words cast upon the page.
Sometimes in silence I remember corn-cob summer days And pig roasts: smoke and fire and the ever spinning carcass Grass grown by a blazing summer sun nurtured with sweating sky drops Family – the laughing voices, and comfortable rhythm and tones Flag day or the 4th or just a family gathering because there was love Softball where generations laughed and fumbled to play a semi-sober game Baked beans and salads galore, sodas, cousins, cars Sometimes I wish I could live in my dreams Forever laughing surrounded by love Sometimes I think I can
Sleep my child and soon you will see A place where candy will grow on a tree The place the unicorn calls its home And many other strange animals roam Close your eyes and lay down your head So the angels can come to guard your bed And the horse with a horn will give you a ride To the place they call the candy abide
Close your sleepy eyes and dream, dream, dream And take a long ride by the soda pop stream Where licorice trees grow in groves And the bread is made into teddy bear loaves The grass is yellow, blue, green, and red Where only the children are allowed to tread So close your eyes and be off to sleep For your ride is waiting and it won’t keep
I remember the place from years gone by Where marshmallow clouds grow in the sky And the rivers are lined with chocolate banks The fences are made of graham cracker planks But I have grown and can go no more It now is your turn to go and explore And find the tin soldiers who march in a row So be quick and hurry before you too grow
Our national path can seem always up hill Brightly we climb our progress a thrill But then we find on the other side of it all A much steeper hill and down it we fall And down in the valleys where shadows play Licking our wounds, we sit and we stay Regretting the effort, we’d expended before We sulk in sorrow, feeling weak and sore
Deception might fool us lies leading us astray Challenge the union in hopes it might fray Whispers and secrets and deceptions and lies We question our progress, tear at our ties When we are inspired by our just looking back Seeing the progress, we have made in our track And remembering what has bound us ‘til now The Declaration, Constitution, our societal vow
We await the sound the siren cry of our cause Excited we rally together without pause The giant gets restless in its slumbering rest As the nation is challenged put to the test Liberty cries loud that great banshee scream As again together we climb and we dream The banner waves high its light shining bright The bald eagles fly talons ready to fight
They gathered around the mountain;
the skies, roiling, stirred by the gods.
Cold the wind descended and blew,
the medicine teachers studied the skies.
Drums chanted their rhythmic beat.
Cries from dancers embracing the might,
called out to the skies to reach down
to touch with the hand of god light;
To bless them in their seasons to come.
Darkness fell upon the valley with rumbles.
Unabated, the call to the gods continued.
Glowing reflections dancing in the storm,
drops came in waves riding the winds,
touching upon those gathered in worship.
The light broke through the clouds streaking –
fingers reaching out, the power rising, sizzling.
The storm gathered its muster and roared.
Wind, racing, leaned into the crowds – blustering.
The drums held their rhythm, each beat sharp
as the dancers stuttered their steps and leaps.
Their souls revealed in the trance of their eyes.
Flashes strobe the night, stopping all motion.
It came in a sizzling crash onto the mountain’s dome.
Light, blindingly bright, lit the valley like day.
Everything changed in that moment, cheers rose
unheard beneath the clamor of the strike.
The blessing granted the celebration a success.
The season will be bright, with harvest and hunt.
The ocean waves are tossing the foam down on the beach, as they have for eons and yet to come. The clouds are held suspended across a gilded sky, a copper haze blossoms from the sun. Shadows, growing longer, drawing in the night, darkness flows as daylight ebbs away. Nighttime comes upon me and darkness swallows all, colors fade from pastels to shades of gray.
Deep in meditation to bless all sentient beings a light burns bright alone, in nothingness. Enlightened, seeking solace in the true reality, like a spark, realize the truth and disappear. An ocean of yet becoming, almost but not quite, ebb and flow within, and all around. Blessings ever flapping or spinning round and round cast out upon the whole of that what is. In circles without beginning lives repeat the course- in ignorance and forever they will spin.
The ocean waves are tossing the foam down on the beach, as they have for eons and yet to come. The clouds are held suspended across a gilded sky, a copper haze blossoms from the sun….
Muddy watered river flows,
gently drifting its winding path.
Farms and orchards dip in their toes,
bounded by a margin of grass.
To cast my line into its depths,
watch the ripples grow in size.
Water bugs racing to and fro,
speckled sun - a water color sky.
No need for fish to break the spell
just draw it in and cast again.
Breathe in deep that fresh green smell,
a quiver, a strike; the long pole bends
The battle is on - though fierce it's brief,
a run a pull and reel it on in.
Released back into the river - set free;
prepare the hook, cast it again.
Corn fields shimmer with a gentle breeze
birds sing songs as old as the wind,
the lane nearby long and straight.
Just draw it in and cast again.
When waking from this long suffered dream.
being the old man that I never foresaw,
I am grateful for those days in the sun
where as a child I grew both strong and tall.
By brian francis