Old

Like a proud old Oak grown tall and wide,

With twisted arms hung low and long.

Or old malted whiskey held high on a shelf,

Sweet amber glow held in and undrunk.

And those deep, grizzled voices so smoothly do sing,

Of heartfelt beauty, of love’s sweetest sting.

Most things like these a man must earn,

A loyal, true friend, to have is like gold.

These things we truly keep, they all are old.

Stones and Fishermen (The Pecos River)

Timelessness is my own tale,

And here I bask in warm sunlight.

Below I see them float right by,

So blinded from my cliff so white.

My day is but a span of time,

And time is not my care.

So many boats come passing by,

And while they fish, I stare.

They cast and troll and try so much,

To catch a prize by hook.

They whip the water to a boil….

So much they have mistook.

So much they see themselves to be,
Such Titans on their own.

Those trophies and pictures will

So countless be…

They won’t outlive one stone.

I hope they take what they need to take,

And whatever fills their cup…

They’re here but for a very short time,

Their nets will never fill up.....

But I don't think they care.

Tending a Fire

In the depths of my house I sit,

Draw in the trials of the day

And build a fire.

Sunk deep in my chair

Draw conclusions on some matter,

And tend a fire.

Steep ramparts above hold high

This lone man looks to them then down

To my fire.

And think on the day,

Parse out special things and hold them close,

Things made pure with fire.

If only to stay warm.

What a Man Has

Crooked lines make me uneasy.

I’d rather do it twice to make sure

All lines are straight.

And trimming the edges is a must.

What’s the use in mowing the yard if

You don’t trim the edges?

My yard, it’s mine.

My grass, my flowers, my trees.

If nothing else were left in my bank account,

My yard would not know, nor would you.

What else does a man have at the end of the day?

To work, to tend, to feed, to grow.

A man may wander far to see,

But where he lives, it will show.

Crying Crystal Tears

Deep in sleep a message sent,

No doubt exist’d when I’d awake…

A turn of tides, a herald of my days.

At one point I’d had no intents,

No care of which way I’d take.

Divine word would change my ways.

A vision I could not explain,

But I could not mistake…

My wife above me, crying crystal tears.

Which set my mind in motion,

And for us a new child to make,

To mend us through remaining years.

People Today

Tables turn and days pass,

And on we turn in rotation.

Of possibility and striving together,

Of telling and hope.

And those we knew back when…

Recalled with nostalgic wist,

Are compared to those today

With nothing but impatience.

Why can’t you be as great

As those who drove me crazy back then?

Love is an Action Verb (an English Lesson)

Wonders of the world have their own adjectives.  It’s easy for them, they’re majestic, wonderful, enigmatic, and beautiful.  And, their identity is so intact, so obvious.  They’re pyramids, gardens, and such.

Nouns don’t need an introduction.  And, when you put the adjectives and the nouns together, you inevitably get hyperboles, which always are exaggerated.

But what about verbs?  What do we do with a verb? What can mountains, gardens, and pyramids do, really?

I think that what’s done is up to us.

So, Keep in mind someone you know who is waiting for something. 

Find out why someone winces peculiarly.

Understand someone.

Sit in a hospital lobby for a couple of hours…or an airport terminal gate.

You’ll see that there’s one verb that’s also a noun, that’s king of them all.

Love.

Love is an imposing wall of stones, a healing ointment, and jewel worn proudly or locked in a vault, the ubiquitous and wondrous object of most of our longing. It can't be fully described, or kept to our own selves....an action verb more than anything else.