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Random Thoughts
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Oh, Merry Go Round of life,
Treadmill of my dreams,
Concrete jungle,
Polluted Streams.
High-rise buildings blot out the sun,
Smog-filled air,
Slum sections teeming decay
And suppressed life, despair.
A question, urgently stirring
About wings spread and whirring.
Freedom to move in uncluttered space —
Tiny forms darting and blurring.
Will the swallows care to come back to Capistrano?
The Path
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
A son of the dirt since my birth,
I look back without rancor or mirth,
And — I remember.
Polished words did not pass my lips,
Nor fine clothes touch my fingertips,
And — I remember.
Without inheritance in the land,
Through struggles and hunger, I grew into a man,
And — I remember.
Beaten but never bowed,
In the School of Hard Knocks I was endowed,
And — I remember.
Wealth and power were never my goal.
I wanted water for thirst, food for my soul,
And — it happened.
No longer hungry or thirsty, I’m fed and gird.
I’m finding the answers, written in the Word,
And — I won’t forget.
I’ve found the path that’ll take me home,
And I’ll go in peace, remembering,
As I say, “Shalom!”
Wapiti
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
I’ve climbed snow-capped mountains,
Searched lush valleys below.
I’ve trekked through high aspen meadows,
Drinking where hidden streams flow.
I’ve climbed over lofty crags
And walked through wildflower meadows where you roam.
I’ve smelled spruce-laden air
In the untamed beauty you trod and know as home.
I’ve searched when hot and thirsty,
Muscles crying out in pain.
I’ve hunted while wet and hungry
Against your allies, snow and rain.
When matching wits, my hunter’s tricks
Have all seemed to fail,
Yet your courage and strength never falter
As nature helps you prevail.
Each year, aspen trees
Begin wearing coats of red and gold,
When campfires flicker in the mountains
Against night air, crispy cold.
My ears strain to catch a bugle call,
Which splits the clean, clear air.
The mighty stag, Wapiti,
Is moving in his lair.
Yes, I’ll answer his ringing challenge,
For not to respond would cause me pain.
It’s time to once more play hide-and-seek
On his terms, in his terrain.
Life
These thoughts come from Autumn Leaves:
The marvel of life…
Like the unfolding petals of the rose,
Awakening to greet the first warm rays of the morning sun.
The marvel of life…
Like a microscopic speck mingled in the cosmic dust of the universe,
Dawdling and dancing to the muted dreams of eternity.
The marvel of life…
Toiling unceasingly with the aspirations of its gender,
Gathering the wisdom of the ages, dreaming the dreams of by-gone eras.
The marvel of life…
Growing hot, waxing brighter in the pursuit of achievement,
Yet, when suppressed and thwarted constantly by unknown forces,
Flickers and finally dies.
Outdoorsman
This thought comes from Autumn Leaves:
Open country, clear streams,
Fresh air, wild life and green trees,
Rugged beauty,
Fresh sights and smells
Enter the body in two’s and three’s.
Clarion mating call of the bull elk in rut.
Outdoorsman life style —
That’s the one for me!
Let Me See, Too!
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Heart renderings poured into word-weaver’s mold
Is the poet’s bent,
Striving to paint a picture
And give the words some tint.
Overwork not the adjectives.
Adverbs wisely use.
Inverted sentences,
Please do not abuse.
Literary critics, established,
Sometimes blind,
Cut and rend, omit and blend —
How dare we waste their time!
Describe then an ocean blue,
Green of stately tree,
A bird in flight, dark of night,
So that I, too, might see.
Then change colors on the brush,
Paint with unwavering pen,
Color falling rain, misery or pain,
Then paint the wind.
Squeeze those words, twist them tight.
Turn them inside out.
Make the painting clear as light.
Make the message shout!
Make the picture come alive.
Strip away the veil.
Let my fingers see it, too,
As they trace the upraised Braille.
Leviathan
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Hear then a tale of questionable strategy
Involving a wondrous creature.
Results were almost near tragedy,
Species extinction, Nature’s own sad teacher.
Their existence brings about mixed feelings
As they quietly pass on parade,
Slowly plying changing ocean currents,
Passing near man unafraid.
Gentle and playful, they offer no cause
For unfounded fear or alarm,
Never inflicting pain in their watery domain
While displaying whale-loads of charm.
The solution was always very simple,
Very easy to understand.
You see, while we’re able to travel our oceans,
They’re unable to travel on land.
Then let’s leave these great gentle wonders
In care of Neptune’s safe keep
To breed and play, live and die, peacefully,
Inside blue marvel of their deep.
wfosterwelborn 