Monday, November 11, 2013

Quantum Conclusion



Small changes enter,
Forever bending directions,
Toward different collisions,
Brief satisfaction shattered,
Tiny pieces scattered,
In the oblivion 
floating forgotten away.


Sunday, November 10, 2013

A Comfortable Room

A Comfortable Room

Such a comfortable room,
The fire fading fast,
Soft light an orange glow,
Casts curious shadows,
Watching from the wall,

Heat hisses through,
Remnants of wood,
Energy of this tree,
Nearly complete,

As I wait I wonder where,
It grew,
From seed to branches tall,
Did green leaves,
Gold sunbeams drink,
Only to lend comfort,
To my room,

In warm gray ashes lay,
What is used,
Smoke carried all moisture away,
A final ember so small,
Lights  fully my room,
In a moment all is dark,
So bright this ember’s end


Saturday, November 9, 2013

Six Feet

Six Feet

Standing only six feet away
from Melissa  Walters,
forever nineteen.

I feel her paint  this  place
with grace.

In this place she walks
golden hair follows,
wheat waving in the wind.

In this place she touches
trees still standing.
In their shade violets grow
the color  of  Melissa’s  eyes.

Six feet takes me
one hundred and fifty
and two
years to this  place,
that  I  may  listen
to  her  soft  voice
echo  off  green  hills
that  roll  away,
so  far  away.

Six feet away,
nothing but  dust,
all her  radiance
given away.

Six feet away
Melissa Walters lay,
forever nineteen.

Distant Orchards

Distant Orchards

In distant orchards,
Unripe fruit drops
From a tree,
Pulled away gently from branches,
By desirous earth below,

Morning mist subdues,
Eager sunbeams while,

Unripe fruit lays,
Waiting patiently,
For me.

You must be lost

If you have found this blog you must be super-lost inside the internet.  Or, searching for nothing.

Wasted Words

Wasted Words

Pour them out on paper,
They run like,
Wet water colors,
Fading into,
Unrecognizable combinations,
Random mixtures of
Regurgitated thoughts,
It makes me sicker,
To read them,
Twice
Or to think,
I ever
Sent them to you.

My Father's Eyes

My Father’s Eyes

Pale blue so calm to see,
If it feels cool, pale blue,
To touch the sky at dusk,
Sending waves across generations,
Layers that peel away

To find the source so true,

Primary color unwashed,
Raw and real smooth, pale blue,
Eyes, wells of deep wisdom
to a soul of pure pale blue.