Tag: Muse in the Morning

Oh, yeah…life goes on.

Am I more like a krill in Mono Lake

or a whale who swims the sea?

Am I a caged up mountain lion

or a springbok, bounding free?

Oh, yeah…life goes on.

Are the currents in the rivers

or are they my uncertainty?

Will I ever find the words

to describe all that I see?

Oh, yeah…life goes on.

Are we gorillas behind glass

or porpoises in pools?

Have we walled the world away from us

because we can use tools?

Oh, yeah…life goes on.

Awkwardly I ask the air

am I living in a bowl?

It’s probably time to listen to

the music in my soul.

War

is only defeated

when its offspring

are not born

Let me give you a boost

a leg up as it were

as you try to scramble

over that wall

a shoulder to stand on

to crack that ceiling

a helping hand in breaking

through that barrier

I’m sure your life

will be so much better

over there, up there,

out there

while we wait here

trying to find

someone else

to help

There are no limits

to the barriers, ceilings, walls

that we humans encounter

and no end to those

which can be surmounted

if we work together

Colored pixels

dancing

a future

that never was

Words  

from an emotional place

words of pain and sorrow

of disappointment

of heartache

and also proclaiming

what can be

Listen closely now

The hour is getting late

Can you hear

your thoughts

before they become words?

The bell of Truth rings

too thin a tinkle

to be called a peal

Can you hear

how it extols us

to move forward

not back

My mind wanders

The Canyon

separation

between here and there

Forest Hills and Bird’s Hill

full of mud and nettles

and The Trail and The Log

and The Creek

full of crawdads and frogs

and squiggly things

I sit and think

and watch a squirrel

or with luck, a chipmunk

And I wonder

About the difference

between someone

who really crafts poetry

over a long period of time

for it will be an even longer time

until they are heard or read

and someone like me

who publishes

random thoughts

truths maybe

sketched out

and strung together

cut and slashed

within hours after it is written

and has the audacity

to call it poetry

Value

cannot be determined

by the writer

But I preferred

The Woods

to the Canyon anyhow

and seldom went

to The Meadow

Early morning teaching people

how to learn so that they

can consume the knowledge

and solve the mysteries

this universe has to offer

You wonder

why I resist

The only wars

having merit

are the ones

too seldom fought

When do we fight

hunger and disease

bigotry and ignorance

neglect and greed?

Fighting these doesn’t require

armed conflict

but rather the engagement

the minds and hearts

the imagination and cooperation

of good people