You wring your hands
as you take to understand
that your best efforts aren’t enough.

Temptations calls–
“Why not give up?”

Breathe deep
don’t hold,
nor let explode
the dearest, most essential you
with noisy puff. . .

Seek down
the mettle
in your bones
and muscle bands,
and see what wisdom
there well hid
speaks clear to you
and drink of that. . .

you’ll taste and know it
as it slakes your deepest thirst
and ’twill not be
a bitter cup.

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Where have I,
what have I
for how long have I been,
by some cyber captain
(It’s weird),
and enervated. . .

Both night and day. . .

And right ’bout now
it seems
’bout time
I look away
and take a sacred vow
to change the course,
whate’er it takes,
to gather folks,
sufficient force,

to turn the sails
or wield all oars
and stage
a brilliant mutiny.

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Hold steady.
you all-inclusive,
into my smaller self
crucial thing called love,

Stay with me
until I clearly feel and see

I can be taller, weller,
and of my goodness
more profusive,

to live at last
a life that sings
to reach my heart out
’round the world,
and up through the endless sky above.

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What can I say?
The rain, the snow
this time of year
will have their sway.

Much needed, but,
in some places, overbleeded,
to form a flood
with tons of mud
which washes homes
and sends some folks
to early graves.

A hard to swallow
plate of food for thought,

but in this cold month,
our inner being
becomes the one
on our
quite most vital hunt,

but not in search of solid food,
but rather,
deeper sustenance,

+++++discerning judgment honoring,
++++++++++of everyone and thing,
++++++++++the basic natures,

++++++++++explanations, nomenclatures,

++++++++++and build-ups piled twixt us
++++++++++and them,
+++++++++++++++who, wheresoever they may be,
+++++++++++++++are actually, in fact,
+++++++++++++++our neighbors,

We set aside
all that we know,
sit patiently and wait,
allow whatever’s really there
clear to appear,
in full to show,

and to reality
we bend and bow,
to teach us how
we can respect
what’s actually there,
before our eyes,

with which and whom
we share the sun, and stars and moon,
soil, wind, trees,
and fire and water,
all of which twist and turn in space
with their due respect to us,
in so very many a guise.

The days, dark, weary,
full of chill and and damp and wet,
if we’re blessed with ample shelter,
give us time
during which
we can reflect,

and hone a vision
at least an increment more wise,
as we for this precious while
slow ourselves,
pause, close and rest,
grow and refresh
our heart-and-love-connected,
truest-seeing inner eyes.

Posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry, Seasons, Winter | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment


Sleep calls.
shapes of rabbits,
by wry coincidence,
seen in the ceIling cracks
or walls. . .

Shadows beckon
of next spring,

while we are still here

in hopes our next snowflake
to glance, to lick,
our next snowball to fling,
and see if it breaks up,
rebounds, or sticks
to what it hits.

Season plump
with dark and night
and crisp point stars
works in our favor,

come time
the bed and our own breath
to savor,
and then,
sweet sleep
will soon be ours.

Posted in Medium Length Poems, Poetry, Seasons, Spring, Winter | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment


[This one is a new and (I think) improved version of an older poem,
which I originally posted on January 13, 2015.]

“Allow me. . . ”:
Something someone
says to you,

in kindness,
and in offer of a service
of real value. . .
simple, free. . .

So, when you plead it
whispering to yourself
“Please, allow me. . .”

think well
about your heart’s true needs–

not just how
to relieve you of
your darn stubborn, old unease,
which wants to break
the gripping shackles
from which you sense
a built-up urgency,
to be, thus, immediately
ever and completely freed.

All the space
deep down in you
and each and every way which ’round
grow happy as the ground in spring
when it with green life
swift and tall
begins to wake and swell. .

And then,
at last,
can you well chance
to strike a better stride,
which wends its way
toward a deep and wide and lasting
happiness and satisfaction,
and as ne’er-before-felt health.

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Blank page
cooperate. . .

Step out.

Fresh air,
errands of need
to go about.

Follow not just what
grown ups say to do
to groups of girls
in troops of scouts.

Break forth!
And seize the gray!
And whatever streaks of blue
should hap to lie
in your eyes’ way,

and leave, for just a moment,
at the side,
by admitted rapid fall of eventide,
any pesky trace that you might have
of paralyzing doubt.

Posted in Medium Length Poems, Poetry, Seasons, Winter | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment