Blog Archives
My Dream
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
I dreamt of hunting buffalo
And long grass shimmering in the sun.
I saw cold, crystal clear mountain streams,
With its banks bordered by wild flowers.
Away up high, almost a speck against the light blue sky,
A bald eagle surveys his realm.
Although it’s spring time in my dream,
The distant, hazy, purple mountains
Still wear their caps of white.
The air is clean and fresh
And filled with the smell of growing things.
The white-trunked aspens
Keep sentinel in their quiet beauty.
Life is simple but hard.
Man fulfilled his dreams by the strength of his hand,
Sweat from his brow, and cunning of his mind.
He became one with his surroundings.
The world was sustained by natural order,
And it was good.
When I awoke,
I realized that I’m but a dinosaur
Transplanted into a modern time and world.
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.
Rainbows and Waterfalls
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Stillness broken only by water sounds,
Cascading against the rock.
Time seems to linger here
As God’s watery finger turns back the clock.
I sit in awe at such magnificent wonder…
A rainbow adorns rising spray.
In my mind, as clear as chimes,
Haunting Indian flute notes linger far away.
An invisible hand, long before man,
Has carved and painted this land.
Man was then formed and given birth
To enjoy rainbows and waterfalls on Mother Earth.
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.
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!
Artist
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Paint with strokes of love,
Brush warmth of summer sun,
Birds fluttering all about,
And clear, blue skies above.
Paint happy trees, merry streams,
Stroke in children’s laughter,
Happy dogs and cats,
Lemon light of drowsy dreams.
Stroke in cool, green grass,
Quiet, existing limpid pools,
Browns of a robust mountain;
Blend them like sands in an hourglass.
Paint no sadness on life’s canvas,
Her presence already abounds;
Life is loaded with her morass,
So…just paint in happy sounds.
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.
It’s Not As It Appears
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
From Ming Dynasty
To urbane travesty,
Ancient pyramids,
Ages untold.
Mysteries beneath the sea,
Treasures beyond measure,
Yet all that glitters is not gold.
Old wisdom,
New wisdom,
Colors broken by a prism.
Rainbows cast in a cloudy sky.
Men haggle, question, and reason,
Searching the horizon for why.
A diamond in the rough is not enough.
Infinitesimal reaches of space,
Men scurry and race
To conquer and know the unknown,
Striving to be first,
To quench the unquenchable thirst
Of knowledge —
Or is it greed? —
Which pushes men toward the stars.
The well-worn shoe now cramps the foot.
Radio and television
Have created an invasion
Into history and lifestyles
With forceful persuasion.
Minds spoon-fed such
A diet of sensation
Soon lose innovation
And imagination.
A rose picked from the vine quickly loses its beauty.
wfosterwelborn 