Blog Archives

Innate Tenacity

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

Beautiful silver kings from ocean depths,

Trying to fulfill your dreams,

Battling white water currents

Over obstacles in the streams.

 

What trials upstream await you,

Hearkening Nature’s call?

You splash and crash over gravel and rock,

Straining to reach the falls.

 

Man’s net catches and thwarts you;

Bears struggle to make of you a meal.

Still upstream you strive, caught in the throes

Of Nature’s relentless peal.

 

Urgency of regeneration makes you

Oblivious to outside sensation.

Instinct to spawn, twilight or dawn

Propels you forward to your destination.

Simplicity

This thought comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

We have become so sophisticated that we bore

Ourselves and others around us.

We cannot find the pathway back to simplicity

Which frees our mind.

Could we find the path, we could laugh at simple jokes

And enjoy simple but pleasant times.

White Water

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

Mighty canyon river coursing through

Millions of years of life.

You are truly a highway through the

Rugged wilderness.

 

Your quiet stretches of tranquil water

Soothes my nerves and is tonic to my mind.

Your white water turbulence excites me

And offers me its cold spray challenge.

 

Aquatic life inside you offers

Boundless pleasure to my hand and palate.

Teeming life along your shores

Bring beauty to tired eyes.

 

Though I don’t see you often enough,

You’re never far from my mind.

Of all man’s known treasures,

You are cherished above all.

 

When I’m gone, you’ll still be there

For all to come and see.

This thought gives me pleasure.

Maybe you’ll find more friends like you and me.

Remember When

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

The way we were blends

Into the way we are.

 

The way we are

Becomes the way we were.

 

The way we were becomes

“Remember when?” And

 

In each other’s eyes

We’ll be young again!

Final Metamorphosis

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

I’m soaring now,

All is well.

As I glance down

On a worn-out shell.

I hear moans and crying.

What’s it all about?

Everyone wants to weep,

Yet I wish to shout.

Inside, looking out,

Now I’m outside looking in.

Bright, fresh beginning,

Freedom without end.

No more headaches

Or pain exist here.

Fresh new world,

Full of laughter and cheer.

Over the old earthly cocoon

You weep and moan,

But transfiguration is complete —

The butterfly has flown.

Spirit form unfettered,

At last completely free,

So why all the sorrow?

At last, “I am free!”

I Coulda, Shoulda, Woulda

This thought comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

I Coulda, Shoulda, Woulda

And a horse named Opportunity

Gallops off into the sunset

Carrying an empty saddle!

Flight

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

To move unfettered in air so rare and pure,

Beneath or above endless banks of clouds.

Unshackled to soar in mind and spirit

To remove earth’s burdensome shroud.

 

Could an eagle speak, would he

Hold us in contempt or in utter disdain,

Poor earth-bound creatures, animals of habit,

Foul air, daily tasks mundane.

 

Spread mighty silver wings,

Soar above the patch-work quilt pattern below.

Fly softly, free spirited,

But fly reverently as you go.

 

Diminished horizons, skies blue and clear,

Atmosphere charged with laughter,

Intangible, invisible

Because other spirits linger here.

 

To leave earth’s cluttered pull, to explore, to seek,

To know, to find lasting contentment,

To search out the truth of the universe

And to know God is man’s essence and ultimate destiny.

Solitary Rose

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

In a single vase, a rose alone,

No spoken words intone,

But, could it speak, what prose

Would issue forth from this rose?

 

Surrounded by a snowy wealth,

Tightly nestled in baby’s breath,

Beauty and essence silently unfold.

Ageless message again retold.

 

Surrendering all, no questions why.

Muted beauty, silent to the eye.

Yet, could it speak real words, too:

“I’m love’s sweet token, just for you!”

The Entity

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

Brighter than a falling meteor,

Shorter than an excited breath,

More fleeting than a passing moment,

Faster than a bolt of lightning.

 

Colder than a frigid arctic blast,

Higher than an eye straining cloud,

Softer than wind-blown thistledown,

Harder than the hardest diamond.

 

This entity comes quietly, yet quickly.

Lingers softly, burns hotly, turns cold

And leaves faster than it came.

 

Having brought joy with its arrival,

It now leaves sorrow in its wake.

 

Not to know it brings emptiness,

And to know it brings joy and bittersweet memories!

 

Such is this thing known throughout the world as Love…

And stranger still — no one can define it.

 

Ironic Circle

This poem is from Autumn Leaves:

 

The first men on our shores had freedom,

But little time to truly experience it

As they struggled to make their place and tame this big land.

Building, hunting, foraging, and planting consumed much of their energy,

But they had freedom.

 

Later, men struggled in chains,

Dying to secure richer lives for their owners.

Throughout their lives of trials and tribulations,

They held to their dreams tenaciously  —

Their dreams of freedom.

 

Later still, men fought and died by the thousands in great wars

To stop tyrants and secure freedom more concretely.

They fought, bled and died to uphold

Our country’s cherished principles,

But these men died, knowing freedom.

 

Even later, men who knew freedom’s sweetness and blessings

Let it erode because of greed, indifference,

Lust for material wealth and apathy.

Blinded by these pursuits,

They became disillusioned and let it slip away.

 

Ironic? Yes! Men who realized freedom,

But no time to fully appreciate it.

Men who didn’t have it and could only dream of its possession.

Men who knew it and died fighting to hold it.

Men without vision who let it slip away like a thief in the night.