Category: Poetry

For the Love of Books

the act

of reading

a page

to its bitter-

sweet

end

is a sort

of journey

one takes

within

long or short

there is movement

however slight

one becomes

what one becomes

a traveler …

I love this

there is something

otherworldly

about it

to hold a book

tangible

in one’s hands

and open it up

to a page

and silently read

its written words

absorbing its inner

thoughts

and images

the feeling

of it all

of what it has to say

to convey

interpreted in a myriad of ways

and how

one wrote it

in the solitude of the mind

in ancient times

or present day

yesterday or tomorrow

a writer’s work

remains

within the reader

it is a way

of connecting the past

to the present

and the present

to the past

and back again

into the future

unknown

it is a time-honored-way

of imagining

of creating

of learning

of teaching

of searching

of thinking

of finding

of exploring

the meaning

reading should be

ever as it was intended

a pleasure

a simple pleasure

you make the time

for

in the maze of the day

or the blocks of the night

at any age

at any time

anywhere

it’s there

waiting for your return

I love to read

in my car

it’s quiet there

a room within itself

full of natural light

and dots of rain

and stacks of books

nibbled

or half-bitten

fully digested

it’s where i go

to feel most

like myself

TL

When in Winter

in the pool

of reflection

i saw so many

things

there were parts

forgotten

and parts apart

from forgotten

in a frozen block

in centuries such

as this

where the sun

is a shadow

but under a grove

of turning trees

the water runs

continuously

and life teems

beneath

its eternal spring

where the wild

come to drink

i feel the strands

of willows

in the wind

and watch the sun rise

and set

across the water

deep

much too far to reach

where the fish and muck have

floated up

and no deer dares to drink

the stars look down

and see it all

for truth is truth

and most truths

are too much to bear

like death

depending on

one’s nature

either you see

the entirety

or pick and choose

which part

to play

pretending you haven’t

the time

such requires

when that’s all anyone

has

is time

as those who haven’t

any

would say

TL

Perspective

she rested

her head

on a rock

the wind

at her back

like a pat

the sound

of a bird

winging away

it might rain

today

I understand

the rain

and why it

falls

TL

What Was

apart

from that

it was good

like looking

out to sea

and catching

a glimpse

of gold

before

it

sinks

beneath the sand

only to float up

elsewhere

shimmering and shining

in another

place

and time

unmatched

in words

and deed

the feeling

of a dream

before

it is

TL

SHANIA

before

she was

a superstar

writing and singing

her own

signature songs

she was

just a 10-year-old child

living in poverty

suffering at the hands

of her step-dad

who abused her

in every way

imaginable

she wasn’t just struggling

to find food

but a way to cope

day to day

living with a volcanic step-dad

an abused mother

and sisters that looked to her

for mothering

it was the magic of music

that swept her away

and saved her

and gave her

another life

to live

one she dreamt of

and prayed for

and worked for

sacrificed for

she’s strong

not because she chose

to be

but because

she had no other

choice

but to be

a songbird

in the dead

of winter

singing

to the trees

to the drunks in bars

to the people who paid

to the strangers from town to town

city to city

country to country

stage to stage

‘til she made it

to the Hall of Fame

where great songwriters

get to go

and be remembered

for the gifts they gave

away

TL

Tub

I cleaned

the tub

the one

we used to

sit in

when you were

small enough

to lift

and tote

and set

and whirl

and spin

back then

it was all about

the bubbles

those magic sparkle bubbles

you loved looking

at

and I loved looking at you

looking at them

feels like yesterday

when it was just

you and me

sittin’ in the tub

bubble high

do you remember how

I’d write words on your back

and you’d try to guess

what they were

and how you always got

I love you

now, you’re 16

and 16

can turn her own faucets on

and pour her own bubbles in

and light her own candle

and drain her own water out

and fix her own cup of tea

she needs me

in other ways now

mostly just to listen

and encourage

and say

it’ll be ok

I love you,

too

TL

True Grit

she’s a runner

that went the distance

and kept going

beyond the finish line

for her

there is no line

she is the human spirit

made known

her life has shown

the essence of what is essential

that no matter what

you’re faced with

in life

whatever it is …

you press on

and chip away

at the mountain

in front of you

she dug her way out

of the dirt that fateful day

and found out

who she really was

what she was capable of

and how she would

lead

down the stretch

at her own pace

figuring out

along the way

how to survive

and begin again

she pushed past

the endurance level

past what is expected

concluded and closed

she took what

could have killed her

that day

in the desert

and transformed

into something beyond

this world

she believed

in the tomorrow

she lives today

and she’s not done

turning the dirt

over

true grit: Turia Pitt

TL

War Veteran

snow on

the ground

ice cold

a numbness

takes over

the body is gone

but still breathing

the heart outside itself

still beating

the mind is lost

in time

not in the present

but the past

it chapters back

through the stacks

to that line

that beautiful line

you wrote in that letter

that made the snow

melt

it was summer

in the winter

of that year

or was it winter

in the summer

or was it spring

when it felt like fall

was morning night

or night morning

when there’s too much pain

the mind escapes

seamlessly

the way clouds move

against the shade

of blue

the bluest blue

TL

Country Rose

jest

don’t talk

through a song

especially one

she wrote

for a woman

who once graced

the Opry stage

and filled the airways

with her songs

‘bout hunger and heartbreak

the ones that fed

a little girl

somewhere in Kentucky

who ended up becoming

a singer herself

a writer of songs

yeah, somebody shoulda shushed

the woman in silver

sittin’ stage front

carrying on that conversation

with that guy

that coulda waited

‘til the woman in gold

up there on the stage

was done

singing her song

the one she wrote

for a country rose

that once grew

wild

in a hollow

TL

Cherry Blossoms

there’s a river

in Itaewon

that formed

from tears

that fell

beneath

a harvest moon

where roses

in first blush

all but bloomed

a mother stoops

to pick a petal

off the water

before it floats

out of sight

a father bends

and helps the mother

to stand

they walk away

old now

taking the long way

home

in rooms that echo

laughter

where their beloved child

ran about

wild and free

now the music box

is closed

its tender tune

plays elsewhere

in the Spring

the cherry blossoms

will bloom

and the wind will hold off

a moment more

as will the rain

there’s a river

in Itaewon

that knows it

well

TL

When Fireflies Fall

to say

i too

felt the light

is this not

what all creatures

long for

the brush of wings

in the night

the blink of bulbs

strung like stars

that fell close

enough to touch

would that you save

in a jar away

for the road

gets weary

for travelers near

and far

and the eyes grow blind

to beauty

and all feeling fades

from surface

as the water moves

like breath

barely breathing

the mist

TL

Something Else

a month

has gone

by

and I guess

I’m still

adjusting

to the 13^th year

a year of change

… you get up

on a school morning

on a September day

and make coffee

like you always have

and go about your daily routine

but this time’s different

this time

you don’t get in the car

and drive to school

and watch her get out of the car

or watch her get back in the car

after 13 years of doing that

suddenly

you’re left standing there

in the driveway

waving

and even though

you knew this day would come

it’s something else

something new

something blue

I suppose I’ve taken it

in stride

but I realize I haven’t really

left the house

on my own

in a month

Chapter 50 … is hard … it’s jest …

so ‘ya make yourself

a big bowl of pasta

and wonder where time goes

I’ve really gotta get out of the house

maybe tomorrow

I will

today I’m with Otis

“Sittin’ by the Dock of the Bay …

Wastin’ Time”

TL

Listening

my house

speaks to me

it has a lot to say

I’ve tried to shush it

to quiet its chatter

its long-winded declaration

speeches on the promenade

the whisper

of bygone days

but it won’t let me

it begs me

to remember

every age

TL

Full Flow

is like

the wind

on water

a leaf falling in

unattached

the shimmer

of sunny days

the salt of the sea

the crunch of snow

the crackle of fire

the drip drop tick tock

of rain

the feeling

of being

of becoming

TL

On the Green

everything gets quiet

the mind

melts away

there’s no memory

of the painful past

no worry

of the future unknown

you’re left with only

this moment

at hand

right in front of you

clear and focused

just you

with your putter

7 balls

and the hole

it’s simple

yet complex

but to be

good at it

to get better

at it

you have to

get in the zone

where nothing else matters

not the heat of the sun

not the pelt of the rain

not the gust of the wind

not the cut of the cold

not the sting of the mosquito

not the hurl of the mower

or the weed eater

it’s all about getting the ball

to sink down in the hole

to get as close as you can

to submersion

one shot is great

two shots are good

three shots need work

four shots need a break

you get to begin again

each time

you approach the ball

putting is my go-to

my balance

find your balance

TL

D o o r s

there are

open doors

closed doors

cracked doors

propped doors

locked doors

unlocked doors

bolted doors

chained doors

sliding doors

barred doors

divided doors

dark doors

light doors

gray doors

clear doors

split doors

broken doors

whole doors

crushed doors

new doors

old doors

ancient doors

painted doors

primed doors

peeling doors

stripped doors

sealed doors

busted doors

burnt doors

charred doors

shuttered doors

double doors

single doors

quiet doors

squeaky doors

banging doors

slammed doors

secure doors

unsecure doors

decoy doors

remote doors

coded doors

public doors

private doors

hidden doors

passing doors

display doors

plastic doors

wooden doors

steel doors

hinged doors

unhinged doors

screened doors

guarded doors

passage doors

gated doors

make-shift doors

exterior doors

interior doors

forgotten doors

faded doors

fallen doors

destroyed doors

restored doors

rusted doors

silver doors

golden doors

glass doors

measured doors

unmeasured doors

structural doors

framed doors

custom doors

uncustom doors

staged doors

curtain doors

beaded doors

tinsel doors

taped doors

lit doors

unlit doors

still doors

revolving doors

coffin doors

dirt doors

stone doors

garden doors

inside doors

outside doors

standing doors

buried doors

blinking doors

treehouse doors

dollhouse doors

castle doors

cardboard doors

magic doors

invisible doors

disappearing doors

reappearing doors

walk-thru doors

waterfall doors

cave doors

elevator doors

emergency doors

escape doors

trap doors

storage doors

secret doors

floating doors

sinking doors

solid doors

dissolving doors

mirrored doors

blurred doors

tower doors

dungeon doors

drop doors

beginning doors

in-between doors

ending doors

no doors

TL

Feeling

i feel

i’ve felt

all there is

to feel

i’ve felt

TL

Nothing

they say

time heals all pain

not sure pain heals

loss is its own

frame

the picture of it

moves like light

and dark

like fog and mist

like flakes of snow

and drips of rain

like a seed that breaks

the surface

and lingers

a moth before it dies

the stones don’t change

only the names

the bringing and taking away

of flowers

how grass covers dirt

and concrete covers grass

nobody warns ‘ya

or maybe they do

or did

or didn’t

or meant to

really meant to

but never got around

to it

or didn’t know how

to go about it

people tend to do nothing

when they don’t know what to do

or say

but doing nothing

is something

you don’t forget

TL

The Changes Within

in August

the leaves are green

soaking in the rays

and rain

spinning in the wind

so alive

it’s hard to know

their time

is even now

running out

summer is over

the fall of leaves

will soon be raining

down

as beings on earth

we are connected to the seasons

in ways

that are instinctual in nature

maybe that’s why we gravitate to the expansiveness

of oceans and mountains and sky

get lost in the jungle

the desert

the pyramids

the places in pictures

over land and space

under

water

and above the cloud

to feel all there is to feel

what does travel teach you

in the end

that you already knew

but forgot

TL

3 Chords and the Truth

turned the dial

down

had to

but sick of the silence

so turned the dial

up

and found some

new stuff

music never leaves ‘ya

long

it brushes back a leaf

and flies in a V

and ripples the glass

and turns a red rose

brown

it fills the space

the dust don’t

and lifts the ink

off the skin

water wears away

the hardest stone

smooths it down

over time

they stack ‘em

in Tennessee

and leave ‘em

for strangers

to see

on their way

to capture

rumbling water

falls

TL