His Blue Tower

   I don't believe anything has affected me as much as the loss of Dacano Arno last June 3rd.  I hadn't known much about this young man, but now I know he was loved by many. This poem is to him:



                         I went there
                      for the first time
                         just the other day.
                      There was no traffic,
                         and the river flowed
                       peacefully without
                         beckoning me to join
                       the one it had claimed
                         as summer's warmth
                       was beginning that tragic
                          day.  I wanted so
                       desperately to say,
                          " I hate you," but  as
                       I stood at the blue tower
                          designed to save lives,
                       I could only shed a few
                          tears and say a prayer.

Shells of the Mind

My mind was back on the coast as my body stayed here in DF.


               Trying to appreciate
                the silence
                     was a hopeless task,
                      because my mind was
                full of all the words
                that had
                      once been spoken when
                       they had meant something.
                 But now, like sand-filled shells,
                 they only
                        rattled unheard as they
                        were swept by the rushing
                 tides bringing them to shore
                 only to exist,
                         But remain uncovered
                          until the sea breezes
                 would cover them completely
                 with sand.

Starry Night

I have always felt a bit of magic occurs on a starry night.


                    It was
                             too early
                                          in the day
                    to wish
                             for a
                                          starry night.
                     Dreams seemed
                             impossible when
                                           clouds covered
                     the stars
                              up there.
                      I needed
                               a dream
                      whether it
                                came true
                      or not
                                 didn't matter
                       I needed
                                  to dream.

Used Clothing

My family didn't have much money, but I managed to grow up.


               Everyday
                             she stood
                                            watching the children
                                                                             going by
                her house.
                               Some wore
                                                the styles shown
                                                                         on television
                 that
                                "Anyone
                                              who was
                                                            anyone"
                  would be
                                 wearing.
                                               She, too,
                                                             would
                   go to school
                                   in clothes
                                               that were
                                                              clean,
                   but had been
                                    in style
                                                years ago.
                                                               The
                   church rummage sale
                                    or thrift shop
                                                  was all her
                                                                parents
                   could afford.

Autumn Again

The seasons change giving us hints before they strike us hard.

  
          Stopping
                       to watch
                                    the geese flying
          overhead, I couldn't
                        help but notice
                                    the world changing
          around me.
                        The once
                                    crisp green leaves
          now curled their
                        brown edges
                                    waiting for the wind
          to
                        send them
                                     away from here.
          Spears
                        of yellow grass
                                     were hiding the
         brown
                        cat--tails
                                      by the pond.
         A cool  breeze                                
                       whispered  that its
                                       cold relatives were
          around
                         the next corner,
         and
                       soon would
                                       be coming here
         for me
                        to endure.
                       

The Leaf and the Cat

It has always been interesting to me to watch cats and see how they are affected by various objects.


                                      The leaf
                                              floated down
                                                        near the
                                       sleeping cat.
                                               After stretching
                                                         itself awake,
                                       it stared
                                                at the
                                                        intruder
                                        as if
                                                 it was
                                         wondering about
                                                 the safety
                                                           of the
                                         changing environment.
                                                  A breeze
                                                           made the
                                         intruder come
                                                   alive once
                                                               more and
                                         fly on
                                                    to occupy
                                                                another place
                                         far away
                                                     from the
.                                                                    porch.

Scrambled Mind

This poem is one that came to me when nothing seemed to fit in place.


                    She didn't sleep
                        because her mind
                                          was full
                     of events
                         occurring throughout
                                            the day,
                     mountains didn't move
                                 and rivers stayed
                                               in their beds,
                     The chick--a--dee
                                 called to let
                                                 his mate know
                      Tuesday would
                                  come and cones
                                                  would fall
                      from the tree
                                   while her mind
                                                   tried to
                       sort it
                                    all out.

Waiting for the First Snowflakes

 I am not a fan of snow or winter time, but, non-the-less, there is something intriguing about the first flakes of snow.


               The light wind
                     made the night
                           seem colder,
                But, at least, it
                      asked for forgiveness
                            by playing a tune
                 on the wind chimes
                       hanging outside my
                             living room window.
                 Most of the crops
                       from the garden
                             had been gathered
                  So now all we could do
                       was wait for the first
                              flakes of snow to fall.

Stealing a View.

  A poem to think about.  We've all done it.

                    The
                             property
                                            is not
                                                       mine.
                     I
                              do not
                                             feel,
                                                        however,
                     that
                              I am
                                              a
                                                        thief
                     when I
                              capture
                                              the
                                                        view
                     to
                              hold
                                              in
                                                        my mind.

Rocker

I love to watch a rocking chair being used.  I hope this poem shows that this statement is true.


     Never
              fully asleep,
     yet
              only marginally
     awake,
               the old
     man
                rocked his
     wooden
                rocking chair
      causing
                squeaks of
       many
                 mice that
       his
                 old cat
       long
                 ago had
       learned
                 didn't exist.

Protecting Treasure

I wrote this recently from a memory that only I will understand.


               About half way down
                   through the indented
               hollow,
                   the shrubs and grasses
               begin
                   to grow and show.
               Continuing the journey
                   will bring one to a
               thicker
                   hedge that forms a
               penetrable barrier
               that
                   keeps the treasure
                             protected from
               being touched
                    by anyone not wanted
                                              there.