Afraid of the dark

Gentle spirit do you know that
when you smile the sun shines?

And when you laugh the birds sing.

But when you are sad the sun
hides away in clouds.

So please don't frown -
I'm afraid of the dark.

Cycles

We come full circle,
Again and again.
Meeting, parting,
Stopping, starting.

Clutched in the fist of fate,
Squeezed beyond endurance,
Enduring beyond reason,
Loving beyond hope,
Hoping beyond despair,
Cycles, endless cycles.

I have lived a thousand times,
I have died a thousand times,
For you.
And for you I would die a thousand
Times a thousand more.

Your kiss is resurrection,
Your touch is life eternal.

Little Witch

Little witch what do you see
in the swirling leaves of tea?
Is it time, is it me or
some yet unknown destiny?
What magic potion can you brew,
what works of wonder can you do,
what webs of mystery can you spin
to snare and bind and hold me in?
Shall I too then cast a spell to
snare and bind and hold you well?
Or shall we go our separate ways
and search and seek out all our days
the magic that we hope will heal
and give us hope to make us feel
all those things we thought were gone forever?

The real deal

I keep trying to write really cool stuff and not doing too well so my friend Milt advised me instead to tell real stories from my life. Ordinarily I’d think that would be extremely boring, as nothing very interesting ever happens to me but I guess I couldn’t do any worse, so here goes. When I was little, about five years old or so, we lived for a time with my grandparents. The house only had two bedrooms so my sister (who is two years older) and I shared a bed that was in my grandparent’s bedroom. I don’t remember much about that room except that it was small and our bed was against the wall on one side of the room and my grandparent’s bed was up against the opposite wall. In the corner at the foot of their bed was a closet that kind of went kitty corner against the two walls so that it was at a forty five degree angle to either. It was kind of a strange set up but the house was small enough that there wasn’t enough space to spare for a normal closet in the wall so they just walled in a corner. This room was at the south end of the house so on one side was a garage, on two sides were the exterior walls and on the last side was a bathroom. It seems like the room had a wooden floor and the walls were bare in a yellowy kind of off white. Somewhere I have a picture of me standing on the front porch of that house in my genuine Hopalong Cassidy cowboy suit. What a proud lad I was in that outfit! But that’s another story. This one is about snoring. My grandpa used to snore when he slept, sometimes very loudly. At that age I didn’t know anything about snoring but I had learned about bears and so I thought that terrible growling sound was coming from a bear in the closet. I remember laying there in the dark too petrified to move for fear of revealing my location to the bear in the closet. I surely did not want to become his next meal. It was some time before I understood that it was my grandfather snoring that caused my fear but the funny thing is, to this day I have an almost morbid fear of bears, particularly grizzly bears. It didn’t help matters that when I first moved to Montana back in the 60's, up near Glacier Park, that six girls were killed by a grizzly bear while they slept. They were all in one tent when the bear attacked. They never did really understand what had provoked the bear. I love going back to Montana whenever I get the chance but I surely do get nervous about the bears. Not too many years ago I was in Glacier Park with two of my sons camping. We were in the campground at Many Glacier on the north shore of Swiftcurrent Lake. Each campground had a big steel box with a warning painted on: “Caution, bears come through the campground at night looking for food. Make sure to lock up your food so they can’t get it” or something like that. What I do remember for sure is how I felt and what I thought. “So, you want me to lock up my food so a hungry bear can’t get at it while I lay there in a nylon tent like a pig in a blanket!” Yeah, right. I slept that night in the back of my Rodeo while reassuring my family that I would be there to help if they needed me. All they had to do was scream! By the way, if you're wondering about the photo, it was taken in October just outside of West Yellowstone, Montana. One of my favorite places.

Deja vu

I was born for you.
Born at the dawn of time.
Do you remember?
We have known a thousand names.
We have loved a thousand times.
The universe was created around us.
You are the center.
Millennia, epochs and eras’
all were made for us.
We used to sit and dangle our
feet in them and laugh as the
currents of time raced by.
We existed only for each other.
Set on a course conceived
at the creation of the universe.
Inseparable. One.
Heaven shook at our kiss.
Angels swooned at our passion.
We gave birth to lightening
when we touched.
But we loved too fiercely and so
were consigned to time to wander.
Separate.
Alone.
Always searching.
Always yearning.
Destined to live our first love
over and over again.
But only when we meet.
Jealous gods.
So, down the dimly lit
corridors of time I wandered.
Searching through
the dust of ages.
Walled in by the cold stones
of loneliness, I searched.
The echos of your footsteps
dying in the distance
like a lovers promise.
Always just one day, one year,
one lifetime ahead of me.
But you never forgot me.
I lived on in your memory.
No illusions these, but
memories of our past.
It is my voice you heard
when you were all alone.
It was my face you glimpsed
when you turned around
too quickly in a crowd.
I am the one you see in dreams.
And so I wait, wait with
pounding heart the
coming of the night.
Waiting to come back to you,
back to your dreams.
I cross the void as easily
as you cross a room.
I build a boat of dreams
and sail my tears to you.
I can be with you always,
in your dreams.
But only for you.
On quiet nights I could hear
your heart beat, leading me
closer and closer, like a
beacon in the night.
I could hear you calling.
Calling out to me.
I could not answer.
Though I called out to you,
you never heard me.
All you heard was the
pounding of my heart.
Pounding, aching, throbbing.
Sobbing.
There was a rift in time that
conspired against us.
I curse the fates that brought
me to this sorry state.
Alone.
You are the heart cut out of me.
My memory of you is
not some vague recollection.
It is a shrine at which I worship you.
I still taste your sweet lips and
smell the woman smell of you.
Your touch still burns like fire.
When you smile my heart skips a beat.
We share one destiny.
One heart.
Storms are black to remind you
of my heart without you.
Lightning flashes to remind you
of our promise.
Thunder roars to remind you
of my agony without you.
And flowers bloom, delicate and sweet,
to remind me of you.
As each spring brings new life,
each life brings new hope.
And I have found you again at last.
Bittersweet victory.
Your smile never changes.
It is the fingerprint of your soul.
We have been so close before.
And won.
We have been so close before.
And lost.
I know all too well the conditions
of this cursed state.
So, until the time is right my heart,
I shall send the sun
and the wind to be my proxies.
When you feel the sun hot upon your cheek,
that will be my breath as I steal a kiss.
And when you feel the wind in your hair,
that will be my caress as I plumb
the shimmering depths of your eyes.

Smoke

Like smoke my image lingers.
Barely visible.
A shadow memory.
A hint of something
seen in the distance.
Portending  what?
I am always just
beyond the forest of
your reality.
Rising like wisps of smoke
into your consciousness.
Am I real?
Have you ever really seen me?
I am like a distant star
twinkling in the periphery
of your vision.
When you look at me I disappear.
Maddening.

Little Flower.... For my darlin' Irish princess!

Little flower bloom for me
that I might your beauty see
and drink the love that glistens
like dew drops in your eyes.

The Question

You ask me why, I do not know.
You wonder why I love you so.
I never really gave it thought
I only know it's true,
In spite of how or why or when
I really, truly do.
Some things are just as natural
As flowers in the spring
Or the pure and simple wonder
that little children bring.
Like warm that comes in summer
Or a bird that's on the wing
There is no end to happiness
That having love can bring.
As fish must live in water
Or grapes upon the vine
Let's bind our hearts together,
Come share your life with mine.

Island dream

I lay semi-conscious and semi-naked on warm black sand. Sand ground from the earth’s bile, spat out in a fiery frenzy and then cooled and pounded for eons by the relentless hammer of the sea. The same sea that spawned life slaps and roars and tries incessantly to draw that life back into its belly. As I lay there drifting on the surface of my daydreams I am aware of the surf’s roar and hiss and protest as it bangs its head against the rocky beach, spitting foam and detritus from its watery maw. A dying tangerine sun reaches out its spiny fingers to clutch desperately at coral colored stratiform clouds to keep it from sinking into the inky blackness of the ocean. An ocean gilded by the suns fading reflection. But it can’t hold on. Marine iguanas huddle in a dimming pool of light trying to suck out the last iota of warmth from the dying rays before cold grips their muscles into immobility. Sea air washes over me as the scent of salt and rotting vegetation nips at my nose. Gulls argue loudly in the distance over fishing rights. Frigate birds lay gently on the wind as they coast in lazy circles watching for fish that the gulls are too busy fighting over to see. I try to absorb the beauty and tranquility of my surroundings the way the iguanas try to absorb the sun, not wanting to miss one speck of it. Somewhere inland I hear the bleat of feral goats as they call to each other in the marshaling darkness. Nannies calling their kids home to dinner. I become aware of a giant tortoise standing like a stony sentinel, totally immobile, where the beach transitions into jungle. I wonder if he is watching or imagines he is being watched. They live sometimes for centuries they say. I wonder if he has ever moved. My muscles ache in sympathy. A familiar scent gently tickles my nose. I turn my head to see. Near me rests the most magnificent creature on the island. A creature whose odors and habits have become increasingly familiar as I explore my island dreams. It lies stretched out to its luxuriant full length covered only by a splash of black sand, its eyes protected by thick dark glass lids. It stirs and I touch its belly. A gesture of reassurance. Its head rolls lazily in my direction. The thick dark glass lids covering its eyes prevent me from seeing if it is looking at me or is still lost in sleep. To provide another with peace and contentment is the greatest form of peace and contentment. My ears become conscious of a distant drumming. The gentle thumping becomes a pounding that fades the sound of the surf into silence. It is as if I am in a quiet empty room with no other sounds save for the thumping. Thumping. I realize it is my heart. As I gaze at this wonderful, beautiful creature I feel waves of emotion washing over me. At first I think it is the surf. Then I realize it is the ebb and flow of the powerful tides of love. Mist settles on my eyes and runs down my cheeks as I understand just how lucky I have become. Like a pearl from the sea she is a gift most rare and precious. I look up at the evening sky and watch as the night splashes a necklace of diamonds across the advancing darkness. With each new point of light that winks on, I say a little prayer of thanks to have her in my dreams. In my life.

Big bang

Kaboom!
My world exploded.
Fragments flying everywhere.
Brains, arms, legs. Heart.
Bits and pieces of me drifting
in an empty void every bit as
black and dark as deepest space.
Time warped. Minutes became days.
Days became years. Years, eons.
I drifted like a cluster of meteorites,
moving through the void on an
endless trip to nowhere.
Cold black bits of me frozen to absolute zero.
Galaxies of people swirled around me.
Past me.
Never close enough to catch me.
Until you.
Your heart had been emptied.
A black hole.
It reached out its tendrils of gravity
into the ether, looking for love.
Pulling for love.
It’s gravity grabbed me and pulled me in.
Slowly at first, then faster and faster
I came into your orbit.
I was caught by the tug of your heart.
As the orbit of my resistance decays
I come closer and closer to you..
Burned up by the friction of your love,
doomed to finally crash into your arms.

My Dream

Floating face down in a sea of dreams.
Rocked by the gentle waves of anticipation.
Drifting somewhere between what was
and what yet may be. Lost in time.
Half seen images drift below me in the
shimmering depths. Through the darkness
I become aware of lights drifting
up towards me. Two luminous balls of
glowing fire growing larger and larger as
they approach me. My heart pounds as
they draw near, the sound pounding in
my ears like a drum. I hear the distant, faint
tinkle of silvery bells. The tinkling grows
louder and louder as the lights approach me.
The orbs resolve themselves into two iridescent
eyes. The tinkling changes into laughter, warm
and sweet. A woman's laughter. The eyes and
the laughter beckon to me. Dim, half seen
memories begin to play on the back of my mind
like shadows on a curtain. It is the image of a
woman. I strain to see her. I cannot.
She is hauntingly familiar.
The shadow woman turns to me. She is
laughing. Her eyes look through me. She calls
out to me but I do not understand her words.
Then the gentle laughter stops and I am once again
swallowed up in silence. It is deafening.
Her eyes turn to emeralds and the image begins to fade.
I reach out to grasp the fiery green gems but they
transform themselves into bubbles and pop at
my touch. I strain to recall the face that I could
not see. I know that I have seen it before, I know
that I have known her before and I know that
I shall know her again, perhaps love her again.
My heart leaps at the memory of some long lost
and forgotten love. I know that my dream is real
and that reality is but the shadow of my dream.
And I know that she waits for me. She is my religion
and I shall pray to her, worship her. She is my salvation.
I feel something tugging at my body, trying to pull
me down. It is the cold current of forgetfulness.
It tries to tear me away from my dream, my love.
A chill touches my bones. I cry out. Green bubbles
rush from my mouth and as they rise they merge
together, growing larger and larger until I am
surrounded by one huge green orb. The bubble is
filled with the gentle sound of her laughter.
The orb floats me gently back to the surface
of my dream. The bubble then bursts and the
drops turn into tears. The tears wash away my
doubts and I know that my true love waits.

Ancestors (a work in progress)

The late afternoon sun offers itself up as sacrifice on the altar of night, its body wrapped in an ever darkening shroud. In a clearing man-shapes gather and huddle together in an already ancient ritual to greet the gathering dark. Licks of firelight dance and wrestle with shadows making the huddled shapes and faces around the fire bob and sway in a weird sort of primeval dance. Tendrils of smoke snake and search their way up into the darkness like seeking fingers. Sparks shoot skyward like rejected meteorites zooming back out to the vast emptyness of space from which they came. In the background vague, half lit trees reach overhead into the circle of light with their twisted arms as they writhe in eerie sympathy with the shapes around the fire, leaping in and out like a zoom lens gone mad in the flickering light. Dark, unseen forest legions array themselves behind the vanguard of tussling trees, ready to march into the ring of light each time the flames jump high. Voices raise and lower, punctuated by the pop and crackle of the fire. The faint words, like whispers, barely touch the ears; their meaning is swept away by clumps of wind. Quiet, nervous laughter punctuates the intermittent cacophony of voices and night sounds. As unseen eyes sit around the fire and watch the dancing, licking flames, more unseen eyes watch the watchers. The firelight throws up a flickering boma to keep the invisible watchers at bay.

Hurry

Make haste! Do not delay.
Fly swiftly off, go now that
you might the sooner stay.

Fly back to me on winged feet,
with this prayer beloved
I thus entreat.

I wait for you with wanting heart,
and lips and arms that ache
when we are thus apart.

All too soon our time is gone.
Too brief your touch, your lips,
and I again am all alone.

On being shy....

Lonely hearts,
aching to be touched.
Afraid to be touched.
Shackled by timidity.
Cursed with dreams,
yet born to dream.
Imprisoned by walls
of emptiness.
We look out on others
who never look back.
We hear their laughter,
we long to laugh.
But the joke is on us.
If they ignore us it is
because we ignore ourselves.
With triumph within our grasp
we reach halfway.
Afraid to lose,
more afraid to win.
Chameleons, standing in corners.
Standing in shadows.
Always waiting for special
moments that never come.
Always hopeful.
Always hopeless.
With life abustle all around us
we are crowded in by loneliness.
Like vampires we look in mirrors
and see nothing because we see
nothing in ourselves.

Burning

HEAT. BURNING, CONSUMING HEAT.
I AM CONSUMED BY THE THOUGHT OF YOU.
BY THE LOVE OF YOU. SOUL SEARING,
GUT RENDING HEAT. DESIRES RED HOT
DAGGER PLUNGING DEEP INTO MY HEART.
FACE FLUSHING, HEAD SPINNING,
MUSCLE ACHING HEAT. I AM LIKE A
MOTH ATTRACTED TO YOUR FLAME.
PLUNGING, GRINDING, SEARING HEAT.
I ACHE TO PLUNGE TO THE CORE OF
YOU AND BURN FOR ETERNITY IN
THE FIREY FURNACE OF YOUR LOVE.
LOVING, WANTING, HAUNTING HEAT.
EVERY MINUTE AWAY FROM YOU IS
LIKE A RED HOT COAL, SMOKING,
BURNING, BUBBLING DOWN THROUGH
THE SOUL OF ME. ACHING, CHURNING,
YEARNING HEAT. YOU ARE THE TORCH.
I AM THE TINDER. THIS LOVE OF YOU
IS LIKE NO OTHER THING. IT IS ALIVE.
I LONG TO HAVE YOUR TOUCH SEAR
MY FLESH, TO HAVE YOUR HOT BREATH
BURN AWAY MY FEARS. TO WELD YOUR
LIPS TO MINE WITH AN ARC OF PASSION.
CREMATE ME IN YOUR ARMS.
TURN ME TO ASH WITH YOUR HEAT.

Remembrance

We are images, pale, hazey.
Spiraling through your memory
like twists of smoke.
Phantoms dancing around the edge of your consciousness.
Laughing and running away as you try to see us.
Faces, once familiar, fade in and out of focus.
Changing. Morphing. Maddening.
Memories, once monuments to friendship
crumble into ruin.
We are disconsolate.
We live on only in your mind.
As you forget us, we die.
Buried in the mass grave of your past.
Yet, if you live on perhaps it is
only because we remember you.

Dreams

Dreams are clouds that drift across the sky of our mind. Sometimes they float. Sometimes they scurry. Sometimes they are light and fluffy. Sometimes they are dark and ominous. Sometimes they are bright and luminous. Sometimes they seem to last forever. Sometimes they seem to evaporate as quickly as they form. Often they are tenuous and ill defined and yet when viewed from the distance of our remembrance they appear with great clarity. They seem to come and go at will. But not our own. They are a part of us and yet separate. We gaze up at them, like Icarus, with longing for the freedom promised there. Life without a dream is like a hot, brassy August sky without a cloud. Empty. Miserable. Unending. It must be endured, not lived. It must be tolerated, not anticipated. Such was my life, a cloudless, hot August sky. Empty. Miserable. Unending. No dreams on my horizon. Until now.
A great and glorious cloud has filled my sky, towering high above the plateau of my consciousness. Dreams abound. They float, they scurry, they loom. They play across my mind like rabbits jumped from a thicket, racing off in all directions. Anticipation flows through my veins like a newly filled river at the start of the rainy season in the vast, desolate Savannah that was my existence. Rest and peace engulf me as the shadow of this dream crosses the event horizon of my life. Whether this cloud sticks on me like a cloud on Kilimanjaro or the hot winds of fate blow it from my life, I will luxuriate in its presence while I may. I will cherish its existence, its worth and its contribution to my life as long as I am able. You are that cloud, my dream. My peace.