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Out Of The Fire
Out of the fire,
Into the great-black ocean,
Out of the mire,
Out of the commotion,
I move onward to destiny!
My only conflict is choice -
How to wage eternity,
How to raise my voice.
Across A Field Of Clover Running
Across a field of clover running,
Through the dew-wet sward I go,
Laws of earth and heaven shunning,
Through the streams of sunshine flow.
Bees on nectarous blossoms dancing,
Butterflies upon the wing,
Witness all my aimless prancing,
Hear the joyful song I sing.
Out across the emerald ceiling,
Soaring out across the green,
Like a swooping swallow feeling
Light as I have ever been,
Above a glorious clover field,
I move between the earth and sky.
To no element will I yield.
Listen to my exuberant cry.
This Day’s Refrain
Sparrows and robins nestled in their trees,
Throat forth joyous song.
Upon the buttercups hum earnest bees,
Content the day long.
Wind coos to me, passionate at my ear,
Lullabies of love.
Earth in her daily rotation doth hear
Sun sung from above.
Every garden needs a bard to impart
A rapturous strain.
I sing this for the garden of your heart,
As this day’s refrain.
That Pact
Wherever thy life beats,
Wherever thy blood flows,
Whatever thy love entreats,
Whatever thy yearning knows,
Weigh well thy inner role.
Act well thy part,
That pact with thy soul.
Betray not thy heart.
To The Victor
Death, I defy thee!
My passionate breath
Warms thy sunless embrace.
Taste defeat then,
You uncompromising fiend,
For I rebuke thee!
My victory is won
Before I have lost,
For I have lived!
And eternity’s darkness
Cannot erase the mark
My soul has engraved upon it.
Live For The Day
Do not let this morning die!
Do not let this moment fly!
Live while you may!
Live for the day!
Ask the suckling babe at breast.
Ask the child what is best.
Give the dying man a test.
Surely they will say,
Live while you may!
Live for the day!
Thank the sunshine, on your knees.
Hear rejoicing in the trees.
Hark the phrase within the breeze.
Live, live, live while you may!
Live for the morning! Live for the day!
See the rose there bleeding red.
See the weed’s uplifted head,
Green grass growing on the dead,
Knowing life before they go.
Surely they all clearly show
How to live – how to live for the day.
Hear it in the eagle’s cry.
Ask the one in prison why.
See the oak reach for the sky!
Do not let this morning die!
Do not let this moment fly!
Live while you may!
Live for the day!
A Wish
Were I to make a wish,
Were I to wish upon a star,
It would be upon a shooting star,
Though such a wish is fleeting,
Burning brilliantly, and fading instantaneously,
Not enduring as a common star
Or a common wish -
Lingering only for a moment of illumination,
But surpassing all stars for a moment.
This is the wish I would wish:
To shine brightly,
If only for a moment.
Were I to wish on a star,
I would wish for a shooting star -
The moment of its glorious passing
To share as my own.
Spring Side
Fair is the day,
Fairer still the company,
And the caress of clover against my cheek,
And the lichen scent from the spring side,
Where water, silver and flowing, forms a pool.
And the stream below, pushing toward the sea,
Praises effervescently the heart that will not be thwarted.
Elusive Taste
That fleeting moment of youth,
Wherein lies emancipation
From wearisome truth,
Wherein simple joy is honed
With anticipation of bliss
And thrill of the moment,
Therein, being decries all anxiety.
Therein, lies a feeling worth renewing,
A worthy angle of perception -
A palate for marrow without pith.
The Wind Is Good For A Soul
The wind is good for a soul.
Feel the brisk breath blow
Upon a gradient knoll.
The turn of leaf will show
That wind is good for a soul.
The Spring Of Our Origin
In the gurgling stream of our youth,
How simple our course,
Meandering with the flow!
The rocks were clear to see,
The falls certain -
Our mutual assurances of truth,
Though ignorant all,
Sublimely taken by the current,
The discourse deepening,
The channel widening and digressing,
Opposing tangents to choose,
Low here, and low there,
And whether to turbulence or stagnation
We went, there was no way of knowing,
Only faith that some force controlled our destiny.
At the delta of our arrival,
We stared into a vast sea of eternity,
And longed to return to the spring of our origin.
Under November Clouds
We have spread the compost, and cleared the weeds
From the back quarter, just in time for rain.
To set out tomato starts, or sow more seeds,
While frost nips at the squash vines, would be in vain.
We have reaped bounty from the tilth of our soil,
Improved our sowmanship with each year’s repetition.
And through our unwavering application of tool to toil,
We have worked our field to prime condition.
A garden needs no other purpose or care
Than to tend the needs of the crop there growing.
Let the fruit of each coming season bear
As they bear, with a principle harvest in knowing
That a gardener should hope for no more
Than to cultivate a garden that never grieves,
To walk under November clouds, and look for
Tulip bulbs beneath the fallen leaves.
Given A Will To Rake
Such a marvelous gift
To arise and wonder!
Let eyes heavenward lift,
When day breaks asunder,
Rises above the night,
Bursts the horizon’s hold!
Unsurpassed is the sight
Of infinity’s gold -
And there for the taking,
Given the proper tool.
There’s joy for the making,
But give and take is the rule.
Happiness has a price.
Perfection has a stain.
Summer has winter’s ice.
– Always a loss for gain.
The putrid stench of pain,
And despair’s heavy musk,
Fury’s winds, tempest rain,
Rumor of coming dusk,
All so trivial are!
Slip through a spirit’s tines!
Yet, the leaves of a star,
Falling as sun shines,
Can be gathered at will,
Can soon a mountain make,
And can an abyss fill,
Given a will to rake.
Pluck
Take the tree by any twig.
Trace from twig to stick to limb,
From limb to trunk to root, then dig!
All the dirt, cast aside. All the weeds, trim.
Seek the harvest there within,
Whether broad or thin,
A fig or figment.
Grasp, firmly,
The fruit.
Pluck.
Tuck
Whatever suit,
Texture, or pigment,
High on the granary shelf.
Search deep, to know thyself
Miner
Dig, miner, dig!
No mountain is too big
To find a vein within.
Begin, soul, begin!
Cast away the stone.
There is treasure in the core,
An infinite store,
Deep within the bone.
Here Is A Dream To Dream
Did you ever dream you were free
To seek spring in all regions,
Wandering earnestly, finding green in all things?
Did you ever gain a day of glorious contemplation?
In a tulip bud there rings a hue of truth -
A sign of making the day not altogether unpleasant,
Waking color where there were gray shades
Like ashen drapes on a dead man’s face.
A trace of truth paints away the stale and dreary way.
Cultivate a bud to blossom and array!
Here is a dream to dream, to scream heavenward -
To be free and never imprisoned again!
I Don’t Want To Wait
I don’t want to wait until my life is over.
I don’t want to wait until my time is over,
To say the things I want to say,
To weigh the thoughts I want to weigh.
I don’t want to wait until my day is over.
I don’t want to wait until my chance is over,
To play the games I want to play,
To lay the plans I want to lay.
I don’t want to wait until my life is over,
To dance the dance I want to dance.
I don’t want to miss the chance.
Today As Forever
Ascend to a magical afterworld.
Once the immortal veil has been unfurled,
Dreams shall be as real as they seem.
Climb through the stars in a sunbeam,
To the land of eternity,
Where unicorns and fairies frolic with infinity,
Where mermaids wait out beyond the reef,
And the night owl has disavowed grief,
Singing the morning abreast robins and space,
Where lambs and lions embrace.
Fly away, fast away, over the cliff side,
Through the cascading mist, beyond the temporal tide.
Make a leap of faith upon the endless grass.
Abide in spring realms that never pass.
In the garden, never wilting, endeavor
To live tomorrow today, and today as forever.
Ahoy!
Ahoy! I cry,
In a headlong hurry.
In the fight I’ll die,
Or live with fury!
My steel will unbroken,
I charge forth at my needs,
With fiery oaths spoken!
Passionate are my deeds.
Furious, Headlong, Beast
Leap up from this creeping pace!
Set your heart racing,
Your soul facing no bounds!
What have you found in your being?
Rush forward, O furious, headlong, beast!
Better to live one day as a tiger,
Than a thousand years as a sheep!
Depiction
Lawless as snowflakes, I spasm,
Examine the cross grain of my tongue,
Render soft-spoken tones,
Glean runes by my petrified eye.
What is seen is affected.
I sing of song,
Prideless and sacred, flowing from lustrous lips.
Swarthy and white-haired wild man prancing on a hillside am I,
Infused with utterance,
Revolting, and melting silently.
Train Departed
I held the ticket in my hand,
And watched with sorrow
My train passing along the band.
In vain, I checked a ticket stand
For another train tomorrow.
But as few trains follow the same track,
I found a place near the turnstile,
And put my luggage on a rack.
Seeing I could not go forward or back,
I busied myself there awhile.
I could lament, brokenhearted,
Shedding age-old tears,
That my only train departed
Long before I had started
Out along the track of my years,
But with forced consideration
Of how the course of trains is set,
I see it was an initiation
Into the seat of my proper station,
And that my schedule has been met.
Here And There
A star shone down from the northern sky.
And knowing I could not abide there,
And still see it with my mortal eye,
I observed without wondering why -
The arrangement being more than fair.
One can marvel at a star’s queer light,
Study the paradoxical rhyme.
Yet, being mortal, try as one might,
One cannot be day, and still have night.
They must be taken one at a time.
All things seem to work out in the end.
All stars in their proper places fall.
(That seems to be the most common trend)
Though, all possibilities depend
On the poet god who made it all.
There is always my far-reaching dream
That I may ride on a star some day,
And shine down in an earthward star beam.
And by going that course, it would seem,
I could be both here and there that way.
To Show You Me
Were there an ancient forest way,
Where you and I might be free
To sit within a sunbeam’s ray,
Beneath some timeless, Druid, tree,
Were there a long-gone poet’s rhyme,
Where you and I might dwell,
And hear the stories moonbeams tell,
Could we abide there for a time,
That sad secret place in my heart,
Where friends, and love, and memories impart
A refuge from the world’s insanity,
Here, would I take you to show you me.
Embodiment Of Perfection
Perfection, what is thy name?
Embodied as a decree!
Conceived above any blame
Is this picture of beauty
In form of snow-pure rabbit.
Gentle child of innocence,
Clothed in angel-knit habit,
Delicate creation, whence
Hath thy creator formed thee?
Art thou solely flesh and blood,
Union with divinity,
Or atonement for the flood?
What god hath made thee, that made
This wretched world’s upheaval?
Hath the artist now forbade
The painting of more evil?
Immaculate conception,
Remorse for all saintly lies,
The rosen hue of redemption
Is in thy forgiving eyes.
A Friend True
I would breathe my last breath into you,
Shed my flesh, spill my blood, extinguish my fire,
Rend my eternal soul in two.
Stand on my shoulders, if you must go higher.
I will stand by you, till my life is through.
And in death I will swim from hell’s mire
For my oath to be a friend true.
Cassandra
What voice comes whispering from the halo of a rainy moon!
Angel, fairy, harpy, demon, sister entity!
Song of oasis within the eternal dune!
Miraculous that one molecule might find another,
As a leaf finds its brother,
Blown wildly in a swell!
I extend my tremulous fingertips
To your lustrous face.
Pray thee, launch a thousand ships
To my lowly place.
I shall read your words with rhapsody,
Dream the tales you tell!
Cassandra, I will heed your prophesy,
Drink your soul, believe your lies,
Kiss your poison lips to my certain demise.
Lead me to heaven or hell!
I will follow earnestly.
I Long To Abide Forever There
I have loved a measure far and above
Any measure a mortal should be part of.
I have roamed a world so vast,
And seen such scenes go past
As to make me believe I am free
To conceive thoughts beyond mortality.
There is a spring flowing in the dale,
Filling a pond in a vale
– Mine to behold, mine to ponder -
And marvelous myriad things to wonder -
And a sky unclouded and clear -
And spiritual eyes to see beyond my fear.
I have walked on grass, on the sea,
Floated beneath eternity.
And where does one begin or end?
On what does paradise depend?
What poem might sing a dream?
What song articulate a stream?
What words might suffice?
I have lived in paradise.
I have known a love fair.
I long to abide forever there.
I Passed A Garden
I passed maples rusted with season,
Dispersing and dispersed, splendidly carpeting
Earth and the light trod of my footsteps -
Sepulcher and womb to winged birth
Springing anew, hence sprung thither,
And whether again afterwards a mystery.
Beyond this, regality showed,
Quaking aspen columns rising alabaster,
And crowned golden as before a reign falls,
And unassuming wind to herald the glory.
(This I witnessed but did not linger)
And passing on to pine forest, evergreen
Lest life should have no say in winter,
Silver the streams rushing beneath
Overhang of branches, slipping between
Rocks and ferns, searching for sea,
I drank there a draught of mountain nectar.
Resplendent thence forth, I discovered,
Magnolias ringed round, blossomed white,
There encircling floral magnificence -
Foxgloves and violets, peonies and pansies,
Patchworks of campanulas and snapdragons
Congregating to meet the emanating rays of morning,
And lilac scent and acacia blending with
Honeysuckle, and striped bees courting
Orchids rigid and swathed in elaborate, morning glory embrace,
And sunbeams lending aura to hyacinths, and round all
Fairies pirouetting, gay butterfly dress theirs, delicate they,
Redolent their flutter and dance of spring eternal.
And a dove called to me silver-breasted from a willow branch.
This is the quintessence of my poem:
I passed a garden,
And for a time abode there.
Good-Bye, Lady Sunset
She brushed against the ceiling
As she floated through the door.
The room began reeling
As her feet lit on the floor.
She smiled a thousand smiles
All condensed down into one,
As she crossed a million miles
On a single beam of sun.
I thought I’d seen her once before,
Though I couldn’t recall her face.
I raised my hand to touch her,
But she left without a trace.
I saw her in a distant blur,
Changing colors on the sky.
She blew a kiss of warmth to me,
As I lay me down to die.
But for evermore, I could see
A radiant life-giving fountain.
As I closed my weary mind,
I saw her on a mountain,
As the eve was passing behind.
To You, When You Are Old
To you, when you are old: remember
Childhood wonder, the morrow’s surprise,
All the seasons before December,
The youthful amazement in your eyes.
When your kind gaze has glassed in despair,
When the green has gone from the clover,
When your lips find a shortness of air,
When you find the joy is all over,
Oh, when you are old, then remember
The days gone by, the lighthearted breath,
The hope of love’s undying ember
To brighten darkness, and defy death.
Across a million miles of heaven
I always feel that I have fallen from my homeland,
Across a million miles of heaven.
I’m only waiting out the days as they are measured,
Across a million miles of heaven.
There has to be some way
To see beyond the light of day,
To find what I am searching for,
To cross beyond the bolted door,
Across a million miles of heaven.
How shall I ever find a single burning candle,
Across a million miles of heaven?
Somebody had to leave a beacon for the children,
Across a million miles of heaven.
I know it’s waiting for me in a field of starlight,
Across a million miles of heaven.
The Edge Of My Divination
The edge of my divination,
Keener than the finest molecular edge,
Has measured sublimation,
And discovered no limitation or boundary.
I am content to my core,
To measure the subtlety,
To weigh the mystery,
To penetrate the radiance
With the edge of my divination.
One Last Deed
Darkness has fallen on the day,
So swiftly fallen down.
Midnight has whisked the light away.
The burning fires fast drown.
The heat of stars has turned to ice,
The light of Mars turned dark.
Yet, lingering flames of hope suffice
To leave behind a mark.
The light of conquered stars still rise,
Though burned out long before.
They shimmer out across the skies,
And shine for evermore.
The fire of unconquered will,
As surely as true love,
Shall warm the cold and endless still,
And Forever rise above.
Bow not love to earthly sorrow!
Though with heavenly speed,
Time brings forth the last tomorrow,
Today, live one last deed!
Say That It Was Not In Vain
Say that it was not in vain.
Accept the loss. Endure the pain.
Let the dice fall where they will.
May your troubled heart be still.
At the ending of the day,
When all hope has passed away,
Though time leaves no lasting gain,
Say that it was not in vain.
Wisps
Songs of my being,
My sweat, my blood, my soul,
My fears, my joys, my tears,
Inked in passing,
All wisps are -
Mere wisps rising
And dissipating into nothing.
Assessment
I am an insubstantial bit
Of thought, a wish, a pondering,
A fleeting whit, a wistful wit,
In a welkin realm wandering.
I am the figment of a rhyme,
On a flight of fancy drifting,
A slight handful of sand sifting
Slowly through the fingers of time.
I am a whisper of rumor,
Litany uttered with a lisp.
I am a few drops of humor.
I am a frail and fleeting wisp.
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