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Someone Painted Stars
Someone painted stars on the ceiling.
Someone put lights into the sky.
Someone made little points of healing,
And hung them for a poet’s eye.
Inside, I have a warm feeling
That someone with incredible might
Painted all those stars on the ceiling,
So that we would not fear the night.
When I Was A Child
When I was a child,
I feared the dark.
I feared to leave my home.
I feared to embark.
I feared to boldly roam,
When I was a child.
Peeking Beneath The Door
Peeking beneath the door,
I see a bit of floor,
And a little light from the other side.
But from where I abide,
I can see no more.
Until I go beyond the door,
Step inside of evermore,
I shall cling to hope -
A crack of light to help me cope,
Until I find out what’s in store.
Beyond Night
I see the sun, all darkness scorning,
Cease the trappings of mourning,
Assume again a heavenly position,
Remind me that night is but a transition -
That beyond darkness there is light,
That morning surely follows night.
Intangible
You within the fire rose,
I see your formless form there.
One could well-enough suppose
You are the morning sun’s glare.
But I see an aureole shine,
A burning bush sort of light,
That kindles all things divine,
And makes petal flames ignite.
Lighthouse
To helm the heartened sailors rouse.
Cliff-side and raised against the night,
Shines the beacon of the lighthouse,
Bearer of guiding light.
Hark, all travelers of mortal fate,
Blown wayward on a raging sea,
The lighthouse marks the harbor gate
Across eternity.
Shine On, Yellow Flower
Shine on, yellow flower!
Upon another day!
Blossom another hour!
Upon your azure garden stay.
Sing your warm and golden verse.
Mingle with the universe.
Cold eternity disperse.
Shine away the blackest curse.
I appeal to your bloom.
Shine away my pining gloom.
Take my soul upon your rays.
Abide with me beyond my days.
Here, Where A Star And Stream Meet
In the darkness, I hear a stream
Flowing through the trees below,
From whence to whence I do not know.
But it really can’t flow too far.
In the night sky I see a star
Shining down on the trees below -
For what reason, I do not know.
Perhaps it is only a dream.
In my bosom, I feel a beat -
For what purpose, I do not know -
Pulsing so my life blood will flow,
Here, where a star and stream meet.
Stepping Stones
A stream separated me from home,
Much too wide for me to try and leap.
Limited in the space I could roam,
I sought stepping stones across the deep.
I can cross anything in my dreams.
Stars make proper stones for stepping on,
Provide a path across cosmic streams,
Over the flowing night, into dawn.
Time And Place
I sit on the back stairs, leaning against the rail,
Gazing up at constellations,
Failing to see any I know a name for.
But I have seen nameless stellar nations before,
That rise and fall. I shall never see them all.
Yet, I know that I am here, and they are there.
And name or not, none of us will fail
To be where we are,
At least until we find ourselves in another spot.
There are lots of spots. And there is lots of space.
And one spot seems as good as another.
A star is as close as a brother,
Or a friend, or beginning, or end.
There is a rabbit on the moon,
Carving out some ancient rune
About relationship and one’s place,
And how time is relative to all.
There is a small rabbit between my feet,
Waiting to go to his hutch for the night.
We might fair as well as anything.
For now, he listens. And I sing.
And out in the valley, a freight train
Wails like some cow lost in the rain.
I wonder why a train wails so, going up the grade.
When I Was Hungry
When I was hungry, you did not turn me away.
When I was in darkness, you lifted up a light.
You opened up your mercy, and bid me stay.
You took my hand and guided me through my long night.
You offered me your cloak, and broke your bread with me.
You tore your hope in twain and shared it liberally,
Bestowed all the warmth of your hospitality.
You were a torch, that through my blindness helped me see.
Oh, good Samaritan, you anointed my pain.
How now shall you question the purpose of your birth?
Oh, angelic host, your life has not been in vain.
You have clearly shown the measure of your soul’s worth.
I shall sing eternally of your charity.
You did not turn me away, when I was hungry.
I Dreamt I Walked With Yeats
I dreamt I walked with Yeats.
We spoke of Celtic feats,
Of swans and woods,
Of druid hoods,
Of towers, and roses, and wind in the reeds,
Of wanders’ unrecorded deeds,
Of shadowy waters and crossways,
Of dancers, and funerals, and bygone days,
Of old age, and moon beams,
Of unwritten songs, and lost dreams.
I dreamt I walked across the past,
Across an ocean vast,
And embraced my dear friend.
And he prepared me for the end.
He turned my sadness into strength,
And filled my dream with hope at length.
Didactic Garden
Tears of despair water
The seeds of tuition,
Rear time’s daughter
To a blossoming fruition.
Life is only arid sand,
And breath but gainless gloom,
Until a lavish heart lays hand,
And makes a flower bloom.
Compost Pile
When in some far corner of a weed patch,
I come across a neglected compost pile,
I tend to believe I’ve made a rare catch,
Like the first discoverer of the Nile.
There lies mummified tomato history,
Weed cities raised and destroyed in a day,
Grass executed for complicity,
Dew from a rose that bloomed and passed away,
The remains of a pumpkin king’s season,
Thrown in a pile, moldering and musty.
The age of a story is no reason
To disregard a good book gone dusty.
In every gardener’s cultivated ground,
No matter how vast or eternal, must
Be a compost pile in a corner mound,
Turning, and collecting stories and dust.
Sit With Me
Sit with me, beside the river.
Must you leave so soon?
On some mountain’s granite sliver,
Our lamp stand is the moon.
Has your life become too hurried,
As a stream against a rock?
Has your way become so flurried,
That you find no ebb to talk?
Sit with me a while longer,
Piped the river to the brook,
Time can make a course flow stronger,
And wiser than the deepest book.
Make Me Free
Tenderly, I touch the point of possibility,
Inwardly expanding, and moving outwardly,
To recognition that answers are there eternally.
Heaven, wake in me.
Make me see.
Make me be.
Vast tranquility,
Wake in me.
Make me free.
Wasn’t That A Mighty Storm?
Wasn’t that a mighty storm
That blew across the sea?
Wasn’t that a dandy form
That followed in the lee?
Wasn’t that a searing fire
That flamed into the dark?
Wasn’t that a heavenly choir
That sang such glorious spark?
Wasn’t that a godly force
That gauged eternity?
Wasn’t that a wondrous source
From which all came to be?
Ghost Lights
Beneath these remotely-twinkling lights,
Dispersed long before the foundation of my discerning,
Burned out long before my soul had spark,
And lingering for my momentary beholding,
I stand in awful yearning,
Feel the radiance arriving, from beyond the limits of my reckoning,
To illuminate for an instant the molecules of my transient form.
In A Wisp
Perception descended upon me as a wondrous mist,
As a breath of angelic whisper at my ear,
And kissed my cheek softly with gentle lips,
And awoke my soul to the translucence of my understanding,
And awoke my soul to the fire of my making,
Embracing my heart as an aura of light might embrace a star,
Seasonless as cosmic dust risen and descended.
With a heavenward sigh, I cried my joy,
And wished I might straightaway vaporize,
Ascend as transpiration in a wisp.
Tender Autumn Light
A tender autumn light
Shines luminous as day,
Illuminates the night
As if to say,
Why do you weep?
As a song the heaven sings,
In promise of other springs,
Her twinkling gently clears
My misty eyes of tears,
And bids me peaceful sleep.
Fire On A Wintry Night
The wind is ruthlessly sharp.
But my heart is warm and bright
With song as a flaming harp,
Like fire on a wintry night.
Ghosts Array
Ghosts array on a frosty night.
Ghosts twirl in starry flight.
Hush, weary world.
We will blanket your sleep.
We will lie soft and deep.
Beneath our sparkling white,
No more are you troubled.
Open The Curtain
Open the curtain, and let in the day.
Bring the afternoon shining through.
Winter is over and half into May.
There’s a bright day waiting for you.
Wake up the daisies and the grass!
Sun will soon make the ice crack!
Don’t fret! The clouds will pass!
Get back onto a sunny track!
Ship Overladen
Frigate, how can you bear
So many skeleton’s bones,
And in rough water hope to fair
Better than Davy Jones?
Jettison the feats
Of yesterday’s notoriety.
Trim the sheets
Of tomorrow’s anxiety.
Measure your cargo’s worth,
And sort the stowage.
Widen your berth.
Get on with the voyage.
Measuring Up
A man should strive sincerely to live,
From the foundation of his soul give,
That when he enters his final sleep,
Even the undertaker shall weep.
Consolation
Without loss,
Without pain,
There is no worth,
There is no gain.
The Sum
In my reckoning I am insignificant in the vast scheme.
In my reckoning my essential needs can never be achieved.
In my reckoning my dreams are inconsequential.
In my reckoning my thoughts are finite reflections of bottomless depth.
In my reckoning my voice is meek and faltering – too weak to cry out my fears.
In my reckoning my words are wasted and disregarded.
In my reckoning I am cast adrift in the empty blackness.
In my reckoning I stand cast away in desolation.
With beckoning arms outstretched to the space that embraces me,
I reckon what I can of it.
From The Lost Dead
In the bedside light warming my hand,
The voices of bygone spirits spoke,
That my sleeping mind might understand.
Existence’s never-cooling brand,
In form, on a silent page awoke.
In the words on a page, I wrote
The thoughts of minds from antiquity.
And the words are borrowed, I should note.
Not that I would be moved to gloat,
But revere this discovery -
That surely spirits emit their light
From the other side, their knowledge shed,
Awaken when summoned beyond night,
And lend true disciples second sight,
As a legacy from the lost dead.
Where Is The Pine Bow?
Where is the pine bow drooping low and cordially?
Where is the snow-drawn chariot swooping down to take me up?
Standing in the clouds, I thought I could see
The place where I am returning once again.
This splendid foresight of my recollection lends substance,
Gives form to the mist of my existence.
Where is the pine bow drooping low and cordially,
To lift my spirit heavenward forever?
Here, We Passed
This path we choose,
This course we walk,
These temporal rose-smelling hours,
This foolish old mime,
This breaking news,
These tongues that talk,
These frail arbors blooming with flowers,
All wither in time.
Could we hold all the songs that we sang
Of friendship dear,
Fast come and gone,
And grave all in stone,
Forge gain before the final bell rang,
It would be near
To a fight won.
(And not won alone)
The silent stars will remember well.
Of our fine friends, only they will tell,
And the many smiles we have amassed.
The stars will record that here we passed.
Paradise Bird
For a time
I could not speak
Of birches and paths diverging,
And depths of crystal Ponds,
For there was only city -
Gray cement walls,
And despairing sky.
But every morning,
A sparrow came to my window
To drink a dew
From my flower box,
Assuage the day,
Sing of contentment,
And renew my determination.
Afternoon shower
What is more significant
Than a rainstorm to wash
The sunny glaze from this day -
A cloudburst to break the daze
Baked hard to my soul!
Transformation
Snake, shed your skin.
Show those shiny scales within!
Caterpillar, shatter your cocoon.
Become a butterfly boon!
Hermit crab, discard those jewels.
Abandon the way of possessive fools!
Cicada, how long shall it take you,
For your form to renew?
Pack rat, in your cluttered nest,
Your mind from baggage wrest!
Oyster, you are not just a shell upon sand.
Hold your pearl close at hand!
Molting soul, sail the open blue.
Cast off all that is not true!
What is a glorious tabernacle,
If not a spirit’s debacle?
Kindred Light
When I foundered at my making,
When my heart was near to breaking,
At my life’s foundation quaking,
When my heart could take no more,
Came a spirit at that hour,
Wrought by some unearthly power,
Raining tears in mournful shower,
Anointing my heart’s gravest sore.
I fancied angels voices calling,
Saw a veil of darkness falling.
Stilled my soul’s most wretched galling,
My kindred light, for evermore!
Tranquility
To stay for a time in silence,
And rest by the flickering fireside,
In a glow of embers from the hearth,
Or stand at an open window,
A scent of rosemary from an open window,
And salt air blown from far across the sea,
In the darkness of night, stars to shine,
To cheer the darkness infinitesimally,
And out beyond the sleeping meadow,
The soothing rhythm of the seashore,
Gentle waves lapping at the sandy seashore -
I harbored this dream within me.
I have seen this,
Achieved tranquility for a moment,
For an evening at an open window,
With the song of night and sea
To cleanse my soul.
When I Am God
If I were a supreme being,
I would need wisdom
Of an end, if there is only eternity.
If I were a king,
I’d heed the lessons of pain
And pestilential imprisonment.
If I were a prisoner, I’d plead for
A vision of release and entitlement
To anything but grand torment.
If I were a soul,
I’d seek freedom
To be without appeasing mortality.
If I were to reign divinely,
I would endeavor to understand
The worth of euphoria forever.
Spanning The Gap
I sought the solace of the stellar fields,
And therein discovered myself,
And in myself discovered the universe.
Measuring The Gain
When he thought he had learned
All there is to learn in his kingdom
But wisdom,
He sought wisdom.
In his quest,
He tasted experience.
He saw dreams achieved, and wasted ambition.
And he questioned the necessity of his death.
Then he measured up his gain.
And it did not slip away from him.
He had gained the wisdom of a lifetime,
And saw clearly that what remained
Was merely faith
That his efforts had not been in vain.
Pressed Rose
Take heart, red rose
Pressed into love’s device
Between the leaves of forgotten prose.
Now that passion cannot suffice,
Your withered bloom is redressed
In the memory you harbor.
Your perfume is expressed
Far beyond that summer arbor.
A Blending Of Souls
Rending of the fabric
Sends the life force separate ways -
From the start, homesick,
Wanting only former days.
Far away, far apart, all go,
Across vast seas, beyond distant shores,
Separated by insurmountable walls and locked doors.
And where and how to meet again, they do not know.
But deep in the song of the heart,
A subtle knowledge burns -
That like matter cannot be kept apart,
That each droplet to an ocean returns,
To a common point in space,
Turning and returning
To a primordial place,
For a oneness yearning -
A unifying of goals,
And a blending of souls.
The Trick Is To Eat Lotus
Still cursing the sun?
No up and down digressing!
No fair confessing
Any hint of discontent!
Who cares what is meant?
Hold to the track!
No looking back!
The Fruit of your season swiftly take!
It cannot be kept, so eat the cake!
Enjoy the cherry around the pit!
Swallow the oyster with the grit!
– Since the trick is to eat lotus, and not think about it.
The End Of Your Choice
Here are your words, poet – make them rhyme!
Lend a blend of song to your voice!
Here are your days, soul – use your time!
Spend it to the end of your choice!
This Is A Gift
This is dew on the grass,
As some heaven-sent anointment.
My joys truly surpass
The inward disappointment,
For a transient instant.
This is a surprise.
This is a disguise
For my aching want.
Now I see the sky!
Now I feel the day!
Gone is my dismay,
And thoughts of why.
I sing the day’s exaltation.
To heaven my airy phrases lift,
Exclaiming my sudden inspiration
That this is a gift.
Here Is Your Canvas
Here is your canvas blue,
Rainbow colors too.
Touch your brush to it -
Long flowing locks of flaxen gold.
Send your soul through it.
Paint your day, your moment.
Set your image glowing,
Knowing it shall pass
As all things do -
But surpassing all things for a moment.
Here is your canvas.
What picture will you paint?
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