Control
in uncontrollable
times
the strength of Zoe
Wees
cuts through
the ice
she’s singing about seizures
that haunt her
but her struggles
are universal
in the telling
of what it is
to be human
whatever it is we face
in life
whatever corners us
none of us “wanna
lose control”
but none of us
have a choice
in it
we are all brought
to bear
so fill your pockets
with as much beauty
as you can
whilst you still can
collect the rays
TL
This Morning
again
the tap
at my window
just one tap
but the blue bird
is not there
so, I get up
and walk on over
to the window
to see where he went …
instead I see snow
suddenly there’s snow …
floating soft in the air
and I can’t help
but laugh
this bird of blue
brings joy
unexpected joy
TL
The Prophet
“your children
are not your children
they are the sons and daughters
of Life’s longing for itself
they come through you
but not from you
and though they are with you
yet they belong not to you
you may give them your love
but not your thoughts
for they have their own thoughts
you may house their bodies
but not their souls
for their souls dwell in the house
of tomorrow
which you cannot visit
not even in your dreams
you may strive to be like them
but seek not to make them like you
for life goes not backward
nor tarries with yesterday
you are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth
the Archer sees the mark upon the path
of the infinite
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far
let your bending in the Archer’s hand be for
gladness
for even as He loves the arrow that flies
so He loves also the bow
that is stable”
(written by Kahlil Gibran – The Prophet 1923)
Blue Bird
early this
morning
I heard
a tap
at my window
and looked across
the room
it was the blue bird
who visited just last year
come back
to say,
“hello, hello, hello,
do you remember me …”
I smile
he’s grown so much
and has so much to say
his wings have carried him
to the other side of the shore
where he’s met all manner of being
I wonder what he’s learned
he says he’ll come back tomorrow
bright and early
and tell me
all about it
TL
When
parked puddles
tiny drops
stuck on glass
slowly dry
as James Bay sings his
Scars away
a car door closes
another opens
carts rolling and sticking
to a stop
a big rig in the distance
keeps going
the roar of an airplane
the quiet of a bicycle
wet masks
plastered on pavement
when is Halloween
over
I forget …
birds chirping
this and that
all the clouds
converged at once
covering every speck of blue
I wonder what it’s like
at the beach
if the sun’s out
what the sand feels like
does it matter
yeah, no
TL
For the Love of the Game
golf was made
for someone like me
and i wish i’d had it
growing up
it woulda helped
considerably
been trying to
catch up
for lost time
I practice as if
there’s a tournament
right around the corner
I don’t play for trophies
or cash
though that’d be nice
I’ve simply found
something
that rivals books
and I love books
books were my golf
growing up
that’s what got me through
tough times
golf is like a book
it can take you
away
with all its intricate
details
and patterns
and ups and downs
when I play alone
I get in a zone
a rhythm
a quiet
an intensity
a feeling
I think of nothing
but the ball
it’s wonderful
I plug in my music
and disappear
TL
My Car
so far
as possessions go
I’d say
my car
is close
it’s more than
transport
more than
storage
more than
four doors
and a roof
it’s personal
space
just enough
to sit
and think
or not think
or over think
I’ve window-watched
the wind
the rain
the snow
the fog
the glow
the clouds
the rays
the moon in all its phase
the night with all its stars
the not one
I’ve watched the leaves
grow back
in buds
and fall away
when fully formed
even now beneath
the bark
like daffodils
in the dark
here is where
I like to read
a book
or write
as I am
or listen to the silence
or too many songs
or my daughter talk
when she feels like
talking
our best talks
were in the car
parked
without distraction
she used to be a baby
in the back
now, she’s fixin’ to take
the wheel
my car is a time capsule
of sorts
a place to put
the tears
and laughter
and everything
in-between
a place to breathe
yeah, my car
is more than
A to B
it’s time
standing still
at rush-hour
TL
Mrs. Dorsey
she was kind …
that’s what they
ought to engrave
on her stone
she was kind …
TL