Monthly Archives: June 2014

Summer

In summer I meander
Aimless as the breeze
That entertains the clouds above
And sways the verdant trees

I find the clock is meaningless
The sun a better judge
Than hands that savor not the warmth
Yet spin through winter’s trudge

I spy upon the firefly
Dancing beacon in the dark
And try to read the stories
Told by each elusive spark

The song that fills both day and night
Unwritten symphony
Buoyant voice of living earth
Singing blue-skied melody

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The Last Day of School

With a heavy heart I hope for you
Dreams in all their beauty true
Paths that lead to sunny days
I trust in you as we part ways
To choose as only you can choose
Build a place to house your muse
Forget not words that hold some meaning
And hear the good amidst the keening
The wonder in your widened eyes
An anxious wish denied disguise
The outbound door has been thrown wide
Behold the limitless other side
Travel well toward journey’s end
Shape the road on which you wend

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The Bell

This is one of the oldest poems that I’ve written.  It was written in June 1990, when I was 14.  I remember asking my English teacher to read it one day at the end of class.  I waiting patiently beside her desk for her to read it.   Her feedback was carefully worded ambiguity, which even then struck me as comical.  She never said didn’t come out and say that she didn’t like it or that it wasn’t good for a middle school kid playing around with words.  She just acted like she didn’t really want to talk about it.  It’s gone through a few revisions since then, but I’ve tried to keep it as close to the original as my own self-criticism will allow.

 

The clock, I hear it ticking
The inner gears turning, clicking
But wait, Shhh—
There it is again,
Another one dead.

The hollow chiming
Rings above the city
Carried by the cold wind.
We cringe

And there is silence
Except for the grief-swollen peal
of sad echoes,
At the sound of—

There it is again,
Unwelcome sound and a name
Like the whisper of the wind
In the bone rattle of leaves.

Another ring,
The tone never falters
The wind has spoken the name of the one
Oh, I believe it was mine.

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The Cord

There is a cord that stretches between
All things though its meaning is often unseen
Woven with fibers of unending thread
It flows out beyond through both living and dead

Connecting all actions and bridging all words
It carries a message that seldom is heard
Above the mad din of a world that moves on
Forgetting the moment remembering it’s gone

In denying the ear the sound is dismissed
Refusal to listen to what’s in our midst
To silence our voices is not what we choose
We must be heard else afraid we will lose

So we grasp not the role that each of us play
Deafened by what we think we should say
Identify little with all that surrounds
And see not our tie to that which abounds

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