Sharing our hunger

We were desirous.
We waited for a single encounter, a single event.
Maybe it was subtle. Maybe we missed it. Was it so plain?
It couldn’t have been.
We knew what that profound moment would bring.

How we desired such ascensions.

We urged the gods of all good
We enlisted the gods of secrecy.
We participated with prayers and superstitions,
with rituals and repetitions.  
This is what desire will do to you.


We were sure that the cosmos had formed its alignment.
We had faith in the winds.
We drew in the flavor of destiny.
We tasted a conjured aroma.
It brought us to higher ground.

Dare we admit the foolish dreams of girls?
Was it to be so mysterious?
At this age, how could we lack such wisdom?
Shall we now glimpse back at what we had forsaken?
It truth, it was a broken scene.
It was that dolefulness that contrived our voracious need.

Survival has its necessary appetite.

This Time

This time
I am perched, safe
I do not shiver in your deception
I know what you are after
I am not confused by your riddles of behavior
I’ve seen your lack of interests
I am not harmed by your condemning shrill
You’ve never known, I’m much stronger than that
My past is what I learned from
Your twists are not my fate
I have chosen instinct

My soul had been protected
As you fed from my sincerity
My heart was taking caution
Your justifications were the clue
I saw the error of your judgments
A territorial display
Your presumptions led us to falter
I am not your prey
Sad
Genuine, we will never be.

In Our Time

                            www.duncraft.com/.../2010/01/08/barred-owls

We waited, with the innocents and excitement of children.
We talked endlessly of the possibilities.
We conjured dreams that would rise in our hopes.
We still waited.
Not even our prayers could bring it faster.
Patently, then angrily, even with discouragement,
We waited.
We would jump at new sights, new sounds,
We would chatter with new Ideas.
Designs were plotted,
Maps were considered,
Preparations were established.
We still waited.
We checked and double checked our intuition.
Is this it? Is that a sign? How will it arrive?
Is it ever going to happen?
It is.
It will come.
On the breeze of an ordinary day,
It will be here, twirling within the leaves that land at our feet,
It will be brought in by the landing of an owl.
We will inspect our fears one last time.
Yes.
Here it will be, with the promise of the warm sun just around the bend.
We begin to chatter again.
Designs, maps, preparations!
Anticipate!
It is our journey.
Our distance will always be greater than our future.

A plan

-Painting kirby sattler

When I listen to the spirits, I hear there is a reason,

I hear there is a past, I here there is a present.

And, I hear there is a future.

I hear there is a reason, from infinite to finite.

I hear it more than the wind, more than the rain.

More, in the space that fills the air.

I know it is there.

I know there is a reason.

A Fresh Start

I have heard the telling voices

I have shared them with my friend

I have held my failing choices

We have split the knowing grin

I have set forth my direction

I have inquired of the feat

I have been forgotten by the function

We are still so incomplete

I have spoken to the sage

I have hungered in the spat

But, here we have sat.

Me, the blank page, and the cat.

Be it; Circumstance or Emotion

Center the teachings in your heart before speaking.

Heed the advice.

Your mind will be of value.

Your words will be of truth.

Without this respect, knowledge is impudent.

Ignorance prevails.

The sickness of souls will spread in the abortion of spirit.

A wretched void will echo beyond all presumptions.

It is a shout for the weak to gather.

I say, refuse.

Leave those dark places.

Be compelled by ethics,

by politeness,

by compassion,

and courage.

Listen.

You will be lead to peace.

Knowledge will bring you home.

(photo by alice popkorn)

The Sounds of Wapiti

I moved to a small rural town in Illinois

It was small, but it was a town, none the less.

I stepped out onto the porch.

I was contemplating what I left behind.

I watched the neighborhood activity.

It was different here.

A peculiar sound emerged above the tree line.

Behind the houses, the cries of an elk pulled at my heart.

The sounds of a bull pained in search of his female.

One would expect to hear this plea from the forest edges.

In perhaps, Montana, as I remembered it well.

He must be lost, I thought.

I must be lost.

I too had been separated from my companion.

I considered the confusion, my recall couldn’t be right.

Again, I heard the labored invitation.

If you’ve ever heard the wapiti, you’d believe its sound is unmistakable.

“Did you hear that?”

I whispered to the black cat who became my nightly partner

His, eyes widened as we listened to the sounds together.

Yes, this is abnormal.

I was startled by the neighbor passing on the sidewalk

He waived at me as he spoke into his cell,

“No, I haven’t seen him yet, but I hear him.

Yes, I’ll keep looking.” He concluded.

I nodded in return.

“Say have you seen a donkey? Some people ‘round here got Lama’s, but, my wife just had to get a donkey. Damn thing got loose.”

"No", I said, "I haven’t but, I think I’ve heard it too.”

"Okay, thanks."

I nodded again.

I looked down at the cat,

Yes, this is abnormal.

2 AM

The thin air clears my thoughts.

I take one last inhale at the close of this day.

The icy branches reflect a repetitive traffic signal on the vacant street below.

It’s time is being kept by the twinkling of the stars.

The winds breath is slow and gentle now.

I am comforted.

Alone, my heart still shifts to a smile.

The moon sings her lullaby,

“Goodnight,

Goodnight.”

-The painting is by Ray Hendershot, it's called, Working Late. click on the picture to see the link.

I can live.

Held away and stolen from an affair.

I was given time to trace the romance.

Could she feel my pensiveness?

Questions arrived with the beckoning of a blue jay.

Personal insight was not my best feature at the time.

But the fog had ceased without rebellion.

I had changed.

Without the desire to chase her uncertainty,

I had been awarded the shrill of a Jay.

“Slow down!” cried the jay, “Look!”

From that day, I can glance back.

I can see into my present.

When the fog drifts in, a breeze of insight is there.

I will not be afraid to follow the flow of my purpose.

I can live.

And I can live without her scoff for the errors in my wake.

The future is my purpose.

Let it be humbled by the Jay.

No Sweat Equity.

"No Sweat Equity."

There are things that are simple.

And, there are things that are simply done.

Even simple solutions.

But life?

Situations?

No, never easy.

Never without sweat.

"The best things in life, are things that we work for."

Things that we sweat for.

Family.

Friends.

community.
The worth is in the doing.

Gratitude is in the learning.

Things that are true are born of

Hope,

Compassion,

Understanding,

Faith.

“Work.”

Life is not loss and gain.

Life is not safe.

Is happiness?

We build equity in our soul,

We bank on trust.

Without trust,

We are going to sweat some more.

Oh, we are going to sweat.

If trust is fleeting there is doubt somewhere.

In you?

In me?

In God?

When blessings become vanity,

The work is lost.

So, have grace in your work.

As, grace was given to you.

Sweat less.

Embraced by Weakness

Chatter surfaces to thought.
Embraced by weakness,
I am not of worthy pardon.
The final decision was exact.
Her vision stings with controversy.
She has claimed her desire and I have given in to more than a touch.
I have submitted to my own failing, a power greater than her intrigue.

I hear my mind justifying the cause.
I argue, I am in control of my own morality,
I am decidedly human and therefore weak.
May I be of goodness and falter?

Solitude has been a pale blessing.
Grin and laughter were confusing.
Sadness reined as a slump on my stature.
Even now, I am not fulfilled.
The distraction has not been loud enough to mute the pangs.
I dance around recognition for the façade of reprieve.

. . .

Fleeting

In our timely passing we shared a pause

A few echoed thoughts have become an awakening

I sounded to the whisper of your desire

You have aroused my passion

Yet, I retreated

You have made an impression on my loneliness

Now, I'm wanting

I am stifled without your drifting scent

Maybe, we were simply passing

Maybe, I missed my chance

Too Long

I have sat with a weight in my heart
I desired the dreams that our silence conjured
My changing walls followed your spirit
Your grace left a shadow in my room

I released your warm grasp
I erected a wall of time between us
Fate was my hope
Ill-fate was your answer

Your genuine strength is what I relied on
I emulated your integrity
Your natural devotion led my way
I didn't know your delicate defeat

Can you forgive my folly?
I have lived every day forth with grit
I have held on
Your memory became my endurance

Yet, I am empty despite your gifts
My soul is lacking fulfillment
My skin is craving a single touch
I am in need of more than a parallel

I will do justice to our love
But, I must go from this heartache
You are no longer destined for defeat

Nor, am I

Homes Walk

Her stride stretches the concrete pathway.

A mild summer evening casts its glow on her face.

This is a time of insight.

Just as many a time before.

It is a time to appriciate.

A time of use, to imagine.

She's taken note of the houses that line the street.

The iridescent bulbs shine through the windows.

The faces of twilight glow cheerfully.

She nods in passing with a smile.

A nod is given for familiarity.

And then another, for acknowledgment.

Her steps of meditation are paced by a neighborly song.

The season's little yellow bird has perched on a wire to participate.

She pondered the placement of lives that circled her home.

Wisdom has come from their examples.

Their oddities have opened her mind.

She's confident the placement has brought her back.

Gerald

Gerald liked airplanes and fishing on the bank under that old tree.

The long silver flashlight with the blue switch was his partner in the dark to collect worms.

He liked the squishy feeling of the mud between his toes after the rain.

Stories about Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn were in his waking dreams.

He was most like Tom sawyer, he thought.

His house is what he came to trust.

For Gerald, silence was not golden, it was irreverent.

It was the sound of the house holding its breath.

Sometimes quietness would just pass by peacefully, like a lone car on a Sunday drive.

But, when the noise would lie still for a minute too long, it was a signal to be aware.

Always, followed by the scurrying heals of his guardian women folk.

Any sign of happiness had to be shut away.

Gerald was the "Man" of this house.

His father would spit that burden on him as a punishment.

Whenever the old man took to running off, he'd raise the hell from the very fears inside Gerald.

Gerald would bite his lip, with more courage than his six year old mind could account for.

He would bring love and safety to his home in spite of that old man.

Gerald met his death by the hands of his father just after his ninth birthday.

But, he still lives in that house.

He brings love and safety to its foundation.

And, all those that spread the sound of laughter through its walls.

From Relapse to Remission

Looking back,

A gradual feeling of assuredness grew in spite of the uncontrollable winds.

Blustery bites of whipping doubt were tossed aside as I moved forward with a sure pace.

I remained focused on the goal. Now, I admit to you, it was more a feeling than visualization.

Hope, that's what I believe I was granted. I was focused on a small feeling that gained strength as I proceeded.

I began to acknowledge the powerful foe of mental estrangement.

That battle was long and yielded to few wounds.

But, nothing prepared me for the sorcery of society that I have yet to become a veteran.

Although, I have laid my fight to rest, my intuition keeps vigil.

I am still here.

Today, and, all the days I am needed.

Hope has found a home in my heart.

Moving forward,

I am not crazy.

I am grateful.

Salt for the Dandelion

The gleaming light of the sun carries my mind to a playful ground.

My confidence was often tested by you.

Oh, you were so mischievous that day!

I became brazen in your challenges.

But, you had such an enticing dare.

I could not resist the excitement of your alluring escapade.

Your zestful venture summoned a gust to the air.

Our tempting and taunting pounded on the sod like a drum.

The percussion resounded with passion in our souls.

The soil seemed to softened beneath us as we pressed against the earth.

The pressure of your touch became so humid in the heat.

I began to feel hopelessly rapt.

I still crave the flavor of your moist brackish skin.

I Will Be There

Can you touch with the energy

living souls need to grow?

Or, can you gently moisten the thirst

of a waning bloom?

I will be there.

Can you heat with the passion

to need my endurance?

Or, can you accept our arrangement

to hold a beautiful composition?

I will be there.

Can you see the everlasting

in a candles glow?

Or, can you journey through time

with the gravity of belief?

I will be there.

Yes, I will be there.

Black Feather Vision

I heard the black feather calling.
Our season stopped in the night.

A vision came to my eyes.
The moon had given her disclosure.
She spoke of holding our sadness.

She granted our mourning may rest.

She told the crow to gather our grief.
Now, He offers his feathers as keep.

We have become suspended by the moon.
And protected by the crow.

The ways of wisdom

Gather your wisdom my twin.
lest, we forsake our engagement.

Walk in the ways of discernment.
Do not be deluded by the winds.

Walk in the ways of safety.
Do not be careless with your steps.

Walk in the ways of truth.
Do not be the conflict in blather.

Walk in the ways of hope.
Do not be foolish with despair.

Let us meet my friend,
on the horizon's soil.

Seed and Season

This is my land, baron and parceled.
It has been borrowed with hope.

This is my hoe.
This is my rake.

Where is my shovel?
Well, it broke.

Seed and Season's End

My land, it was baron and parceled.

It was borrowed with hope.

There was one black feather.

And one old time flavor.

Now, I look for the soap.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Acoustic road

There is an acoustic sound to this road I travel.
It has a domestic rhythm.
I step to its bubbly beat.
The tune is familiar and it calls to my heart.

My dreams are made by this sound.
I sway while the song is played.
I am compelled to step forward on my path.
My limbs move up and down with repetition.

I may desire to play those cords.
But, they are not of my composition.
Sometimes I fumble along in my craving to play.
I imagine I am part of that ensemble.

Perhaps, at my journeys end I may find a chorus.

A tear on this feather

I saw the sky shine so brightly today.
I thought of the glint in your eye when you smiled at me.
Oh yes, I feel you up there.
But, I am not yet polished to deserve your reflection.

I dropped a tear on this feather today.
I thought of all the times we could have escaped our fate.
Oh yes, we have taken flight.
But, my soul is still tied you.

I felt the wind blow today.
I saw our life lofting adrift.
Oh yes, we are displaced.
But, I will weather this sail until I return to you.

I set a prayer on this feather today.
I thought of all the times we had tempted our fate.
Oh yes, this prayer disperse.
But, let me dream of you one more night.

A Cheshire Smile

The intimacy we share is a gift of hope.

It is our contrite hearts that have been blessed.

I will be bold with this miracle we have been granted.

Other dreamers would envy without responsible accord.

I trust your understanding will not be misconstrued by romantic fantasies. No, I am not afraid.

Yet, to another I am protective of the truth.

The time of distance through the days has been expected. My flights Quicken with even more challenges. I am impatient to return to you.

No, I do not fear to be so bold. I know you understand.

The mystery others see in my cheshire smile is my love for you.

Echoes of Hope

The virtue that once protected me had become my partner in loneliness.

My surrender was foregone and pined for echoes of hope.

The scars that brought me here still hurt.

But it's there age that brings echoes of hope.

My fears are held with my breath.

Yet my prayers are echoes of hope.

Departed by the Moonlight

This single pedal departed by the moonlight, I shall instill my wishes in thee.
Then, fly by this night to find thy match of spirit. Lay thee rest upon that soul.

Charm our stranger with such an urge that thou be carried back to me.
Without further doubt of my lost companion, I will wait for thee.

This pedal once enchanted by the moonlight, I shall press thee.
Shall we then henceforth smile upon our book and remember when.

The Other End

I am discouraged to watch you turn me away.
I recall a time when we were close.
Don’t you remember when we were small and excited for the energy given by the light?
Your eyes now hold confusion and your mind is detached from our beginnings.
I miss your genuine smile and surprised laugh as we explored.
It seems you are lost, walking in a mist.
Can’t you remember our bond?
How can you accept the façade of this tainted journey?
We trusted in the belief of our time together.
The truth we once shared, became my compass.
I can feel you in my soul as surely as I touch my own hand.
Please, don’t go.
Warm in the sunlight with me once more.

Potato Chips

You must not find comfort in my patients as I wait for you.
Solace would be the wrong way to begin this love affair.
I need you to come swiftly now.
The steadfast grip that I have held is weakening.
The discouragement of your delay has hardened my heart.
I fear my soul may be a crumbled ruin when you arrive.
I may be a callous spinster.
I may find acceptance and deny a moment to intrigue.
I may find comfort in my own habits.
I may then object to your intrusion.
I am beginning to feel defeated.
I am worn by those daring enough to challenge my day.
I doubt your reality at times more often.
I no longer awaken with belief that I may meet you.
No, instead I have become complacent.
I remark to the image in the mirror, "What's the point?"
I have become addicted to saturated fat and sodium.
It is in effort to fill the agony of your void.
I fear my thirst for you is unquenchable.
The excitement of our meeting has become a crude riddle.
The hope that bubbles inside is expended with sarcasm.
This is becoming all too unsatisfying.
This will not continue to sustain my wait.
The time is now my love.
For, we may only be given the ever after.

There are pieces of you everywhere

There are pieces of you everywhere.
In these places, have you been?

I have felt the winds sweep through a valley and glide swiftly over hidden waters.
I know the breeze that has carried moisture to your tears.

I know you long for an escape. I have traveled in the expanse of skies and I have seen you in its gentle flows, I know you want a time of peace and to play with the ruffles of the air.

I have endured the roads of this land and I have ridden its curves.
I know your anger and rebellion in the bumps and the sways.

My stomach has matched your discomfort in the endless mundane.
I know you have the courage and passion for undying love.

I have sped quickly down a mountainside to feel gravity flutter in my soul.
I know you desire to be trusted and need to be carefree.

I have awoken to smell the salt of the ocean and watched while the tides draw substance.
I know your anticipation tugs at you from within, it beckons your involvement.

I have seen you in the western sky when the moon is so full of mystery that it causes the thin air to glow.
I know you are as innocent and beautiful as you are mystic and divine.

I have observed storms brew and crash down with a mighty strength and then wane to new and abundant growth.
I know your prayers must be close to despair
but, I know there is much more for you in store.

The Flaw of a Soul's Desire

Must I be so honest that I voice the desires of my soul?
Must I be held to the weak moments of my imaginings?
I have found safety and hope in the anonymity of my mind.
My heart was broken and empty without a vision to crave.
Should I be so responsible that I admit my dreams have placed you in my heart?
I will deny intent.
For, my desire for you is a pleasant fantasy.
When I need to be touched, it is your skin that I summon, to warm with mine.
It is your eyes that I search for to connect my thoughts.
It is your sound that caresses my acts of passion.
It is your energy leading to mine.
It is your calmness that lends to my rest.
It is your vision that brings me hope.
Yes, I am without, at present.
Yes, you are the inspiration leading my search.
yes.
I hope she is just like you.