A Year of Poems – Day 218

Screens change every second
Mutable, shifting, careening
Around the spectrum of color.

We drive with reckless abandon
Never pausing at the overlooks
Never stopping for a picnic.

Food comes in at one end
And sits with us until
Thirty-five hours later

If digestion shows any indication
Perhaps we were designed to picnic on overlooks
And sit for a week contemplating two to three colors.

A Year of Poems – Day 217

Father with son in hand
Spread out like a Renaissance statue
Each one wrapped in separate opposing motion
The boy craning to look
Arms extended towards the sky then ground
Eyes looking at the passing dog
Then up to his father’s face
Mouth moving, screaming, talking
As he wriggles over-brimming
With emotions he has not grown into.

The father strives ever forward
He is the through line for the piece.
His is the path your eye follows
Before it wanders out to the frenetic edges
And his line never wavers
Except occasionally to glance at his son
But he cannot look for long
For his path once wild as an untamed breeze
Has now been bridled forward
He looks at his son as the
tamed stallion glances at the colt
with mingled regret, love, and impatience.

A Year of Poems – Day 215

It creeps around the edges of our hearts
It steals the minds of our loved ones
It rises like bile as the morning alarm rings
It clouds out everything till we see nothing
In the darkness of our own thoughts
Inky silence stings our eyes,
Just below the threshold of pain
True darkness is not in the night.
It slinks away in broad daylight
To live life with you alone.

A Year of Poems – Day 214

In the beginning, the hush before the storm,
the still voice shook the deep void.
It spoke no poetry as it rent light from dark,
for it stands separate from all other verse,
the moment all words echo yet cannot fill,
for from that word tumble suns and novas,
fireflies and the shimmering lantern fish
still sparkling with the syllabic wonder
of language sprung on the world by surprise.
Small wonder the birds greet the sun with song
Words would seem lacking except the word
took on the echoes and filled our verses.
The early birds may sing wordless songs
but we greet the morning with fresh flung hymns
for we have touched language when he touched us,
we have felt the echoes in our skin
so naturally joy bubbles up with poetry
since he took on the poetry of human flesh.

A Year of Poems – Day 212

To get to clarity by garden paths,
The slow circling of eagle’s flight
around the zero point of death or life –
This is the poet’s slow dance to meaning,
The courtly show, and coy wooing of truth
Lest all blush and leave the scene too soon,
Yet the poem must still impale the heart.

A Year of Poems – Day 211

There are no two people meant to be,
No souls intertwined from eternity.
There is no mate for any puzzle piece
So perfect that it will fit in peace
or kisses which could not be matched
if these two souls were not attached.
Love is a thing of time and place
Of presence and an awkward gaze,
For there is much to love in everyone
but in commitment is love begun.

A Year of Poems – Day 209

Do not despair
O son of man
O son of man.

The air is heavy
The sun is hot
And cares oppress
The fun away.

The mind is worn
From daily paths
And verbal litanies
Recited in these cavern halls.

Do not despair
O son of man
Though cares are hot
And fun grows heavy,

Though all around you
Despair with soft smiles,
Scream with pinkies out,
And voices soft as velvet

Do not despair,
Do not despair,
There is still this breath
Between each word

And the moment between breaths
When the air, and sun cannot reach you
And the moment after the breath
When the air grows softer.

Do not despair
O son of man
But speak softness
To a heavy world.