Posted in Prayers and the Sacred

An Aging Artist’s Prayer – To Fully Hold Onto Today

to see one’s life as a waste
can leave a bitter taste
in the mouth
grinding teeth of regrets
hard pills to swallow all beget
a heart of drouth

what is created now is never enough
and no matter how much stuff
is crammed in the hole
the discontent makes it null and void
art is no longer enjoyed
nor a comfort to the soul

to believe in redemption’s decree
is to let the past be
and find a way beyond the grief
i must choose to fully hold onto today
touch that hand when i falter and say
lord help my unbelief

Posted in Musings and Reflections

Yesterday’s Child

The existence of time travel is irrefutable. Each day I revisit
the past.

Memories will come to mind
either unbidden or in the
suddenness of a smell or sight
or simply in the everyday
existence of my life.

And yet,
what makes some memories
sticky and others less so?
Is it the emotion, choice,
or the sorrows that cause
the memories and the feelings
associated with them to feel
as real today as they
did so long ago?

I know not.
Only that some days the past
is closer than what is
before me today.
I move through now
holding the hand
of yesterday’s child
who is my blessed

Posted in Musings and Reflections

Through Warm Shadows

I awake in the morning
and remember the shadows
cast upon the wall by
yesterday’s setting sun.

(Later, storms with hail
will sweep through. I will
hear the thunder of the
rain on the metal roof
of the warehouse, a wet
wind kissing my cheek
as I sort through items
to sell online).

But now, before I step
into the rest of my day,
future storms as yet
unknown or experienced,
I let the finish bring
out the beauty of black
walnut wood and I find
that I am grateful to
be past yesterday.

Outside, I enter into
the bright sun of today.
Bob Marley “Lively Up
Yourself” brings me
through the warm shadows
as I drive into work.

When I leave, all is
bright again. The wind
has blown the storms
away. I watch the budding
trees waving in the air,
ablaze with yellow green

I look inside myself to
find that my fears have
ridden away on the wind.

Posted in Prayers and the Sacred

The Warm Embrace of the Son

when i greet patron star
i acknowledge that i could
not live here without
her eternal fire

when i meet brother son
i embrace the knowledge
that i am loved by
an unquenchable flame

when i am present
to the morning
this gift of another day
the rising sun
and the risen one
created and creator
i bow into the warm
embrace of the holy
and begin this day
with his name
on my tongue

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree (Poems)

(But that was yesterday)

I wake up wondering if what I said was okay
(but that was yesterday)

Did I say too much or not have enough to say?
(but that was yesterday)

Did my pride get in the way?
(but that was yesterday)

Did I make another pay the price that was mine to pay?
(but that was yesterday)

And all the while I’m wishing I could make my brokenness go away
(but that was yesterday)

(Let it go, yesterday is a no show, it’s no use trying to figure out what I may never know about I did or did not do yesterday)

It’s high time I fully give in to today.


An Apocalyptic Dream

In the darkness of early morn, I walk between the shadows of waning streetlamps and a wind that tastes of coming rain, the sounds of cricketsong and windchimes dancing in my ears.

In these moments, when most residents still lie in slumber, I can imagine I am part of an apocalyptic dream, the last of my kind remaining, hovering within the strange aura of peace and loss the thought entails.

Then I hear the roar of an engine and a car blows through the stop sign near me, as if somehow the law does not apply to what one thinks is unseen. I realize again that I am not alone and that I am not always enamored with those I must share this planet with.

Though if I am honest, I suspect I too at times am part of the walking dead, asleep to my potential, distracted by nothingness, racing towards a destination that in the end holds little value, unwilling to stop and listen to an agenda other than my own.

I return to the safety of the indoors where I spend a few moments in silent reflection of the coming journey. The muffled wail of the train whistle through the window glass is a mournful reminder that I must be on my way.

I leave the table, the surface trembling with the rumble of the passing train, gather my tattered thoughts around me like an old quilt, and step back outside into the evanescent dawn.


Those Days So Very Little and Long Ago

returning to places where i once wandered
with persons i did not know would be a part of me
when what was the future then is now today
very little remains of what i remember
and what i envisioned for my life is much more and less than what i thought it would be
strange to think many of those who walk here now only existed in that place where all of us begin
when i wandered here
already a young old man
those days
so little
and so very
long ago

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree (Poems)

The Sidewalk Between the Now and the Not Yet

what will be my impression here?
what will my shadow caress?

is the wailing horn of the early train through the ac grate a call to go?
or is it only a welcome jest?

will this morning sun herald a day of promise or one filled with regrets?

can i walk along the sidewalk between the now and the not yet?

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree (Poems)

When I Am Only A Morning Shadow

flickering leaves upon the wall
where the light of morning sun doth fall
and the wind of the dawn seeks to call
me from a shadow into light

i move with a sluggish grace
reluctant to reengage with the race
running towards an unseen place
before the coming of the night

so here by the window the sun’s kiss on my cheek
some solace as to my path i seek
the voice inside me begins to speak
as i rise from shade to bright