The Friend Who Breaks Glass

It's eleven in the Friday evening
and the calm whisper of a long week is
broken by his reality's sharp call.

Perhaps with some reluctance or perhaps
all too easily the glass is broken.

In the former case reaching sooner for 
that lifeline would have been better for all
--more convenient with better expected 
outcomes. Hopefully it is not too late.

In the latter case it is yet again 
this panicked alarm is being sounded. 

It makes no difference. The need's real
even if the timing isn't opportune
or the actual danger that acute.

He isn't the best option nor the only.
He cannot entirely fix the problem 
--just a means to hoped-for solutions.

Whether he supplies a bandage or yields
a true fix is not really the point.
His role in this act of a many-act play 
has been cast, and he's not just another 
available actor. He's THE performer.

For him there is nothing of this that is 
obligatory. This is not duty 
as much as it is simply who he is.

He won't even cuss you as he slowly
tamps out his cigar, throws out his whiskey's 
last swallow, grabs his coat, and starts his car.

On his way, and he'd have it no other.

Of Gods And Dogs

To never want for more than a nap
Tormented by squirrels and doorbells

Meals faithfully served - sometimes a little cheese on top
Never knowing nor ever controlling what comes next

Excitement seeing a revealed leash
Frustration from persistent restraint

Pride and praise plus a treat for a small trick performed well
Shame and pain for an accidental bodily fail

Constancy your realm day in, day out
Aging much faster than those you love

The thrill of a car ride
Agony at the vet

So many new favorite things
So little time in each and all

Extremes

The interesting stuff is always at the extremes
When limits are reached, then exceeded
Cold water is just water until it freezes
Hot water silently sits and then the boil
The thrill of the hunt arrives with the chase
Actualization drives the excitement of anticipation
Anticlimax is never because of too much but too little
Moderation is boring, dull, and faint
The remarkable is created by either indulgence or deprivation 
A heart set on cruise control is not healthy
Nor a life trapped by routine worth living

Mischievous Grins

Beware those who delight in the others' downfall.
They boast when they should share sorrow.
In the face of despair, they smirk rather than wince.

Careful scholars have struggled throughout the ages 
to find grounding for a just war.
None of us should expect an easier excuse.

One need not take leave of dignity
in achieving a good success.
Nor should one adopt indifference
for the sake of one's pride.

The souls one’s actions reach deserve our care.
Conquest is not equivalent to victory.
Nor love antithetical to glory.

Whiskey Drinkin' 'n Ass Kickin'

Drownin' this bottle of boo-hoos
Wonderin' why always lose you
Thinkin' back to the start again
It's the same that's it's always been

She left 'fore we even had a chance
She took my heart from the ver' first dance
Those boots could move feelin's to my core
Never thought they move her out the door

Now I struggle the strength to just abide
Sunset to sunrise I just drift and slide
Maybe someday she'll see way back to me
Till then I'll just wish angels hear my plea

My heartbreak now broke I pray to God I send
Fearin' and supposin' that it'll never end

Casey Kasem

Late empty night--I drift across the vast Texas landscape.
Straight the road leads toward twilight town--distant, calling.
Starry ceiling, black horizon--car pulls forward.
FM station harkens my past--teleports me.
Mind roams finding history not lost but
alive within. Memories close as
I hum then sing as I connect
childhood. Not just in song but 
rhythm, feel--showing I am,
indeed, still back there.
Hopes, perspective
all the small
things that 
were . . .
so big in my naive world.
To go back there, to be there . . . 
still hoping the road extends.
Wishing the top 40 could just
last for longer, forever.

Obstinacy in Protest

They tell us it is impractical, 
unrealistic, 
unworkable. 
They tell us this because simply 
the others can’t be trusted. 
Can’t be expected. 
Can’t be allowed.
They never tell us, though, 
that what we want is actually wrong. 
They doubt our sincerity, 
our ability, 
but they do not dispute 
our integrity.

Fancy And Free

She moved unmoored
     skipping, dancing 
          down the sidewalk
He just followed
     slowly pacing
          his gait steady
Her long hair danced
His caught eyes glanced
Briefly she waits
     there for just him
His attention 
     still distracted 
She returned to
     her carefree gait
He kept aloof
     to her advance
Not long would she
     be there at rest
At that moment 
     he should pursue
          but he dithers
Reluctantly
     to his demise 
          she makes escape

On Building A Wall

Strings laid
mud prepared
wet
not too wet
never dry
     SCOOP
throw
swipe up
(brick already in hand)
swipe out
swipe in
lay
scrape
tap
move
brick by brick
up, over, over, over . . .
     UP
mud
more mud 
brick
grab, scoop, throw, swipe, lay, scrape, tap
     MOVE
eye on the line
eye on the brick
eye on the mud
continuous motion
rhythmic rotation
muscle memory
look forward, never back
trust the line
trust the trowel
test the mud
test the level
do it once
a thousand times

Moments

Births and birthday parties
First dates 
Breakups
The funeral, the funerals 
Weddings some big, many small 
Graduations
First day on the job
Promotions, demotions, passed by
Retirement send off 
Departure
Arrival
Departure again
Many moments
Punctuating our time
Stopping us, starting us
Marking us
All the rest is forgotten
All the rest is all there is

It was bumpy

the road at first

jerky movement

a lot

back-and-forth

side to side

Then sharp acceleration

quick decelerations

They’re all accelerations

Suddenly smooth

long, straight monotony

so long, even peaceful

Then wheels break

and break the calm

Hard right, then harder

We went up, I rolled back

We went down, I rolled forth

A squeal to abrupt stop

Pausing

frozen

waiting

now—forever . . . Then

Voices, doors, voices louder, clearer

Latch click, light on,

Silent eyes

The oaks: stout, proud, tall, thick

been here for a long time

seen many, many days on these blocks

The maples, the pines, the dogwoods too

heard loud rumbling cars

and the hum of electric silence

Felt scorching summers

sharp biting freezing rain

soft powdery snows

Home to blue jays, sparrows, owls, squirrels, ants

Neighbor to construction and demolition

depreciation, remodeling, refurbishment, repurpose

Borne witness to life and death

domestic squabble

late night strolls by lovers and drunken friends

early morning walks of dogs and masters

children in sprinklers joyfully playing

Smelled morning dew, hot fresh asphalt, crisp lightning-filled air, wafting chimney smoke

Stood above flowers and lawns and weeds and bees

Some are ancient

Some are new

Among them friends have come and gone

In summer they peacefully bestow shade

casting shadows across long days

In autumn the display vibrant colors

and a soft abiding hint of passing times

In winter they sleep

preparing for when a new spring will bring

new sprouts, new hopes, new dreams

Sunlight in December

Is always late evening.

From early morn’ ‘til twilight

The yellow sun burns orange

Changing only in hue.

It is brief in the sky,

But wonderous and pleasant.

The crisp air on a still day

Glows upon the landscape.

Long shadows grace the ground.

Bare trees grant splinters of light

Illuminating that which

Should be umbra covered.

Stillness in the autumn

Whispers a warm quiet peace.

As winter threatens approach

The calendar commands

For our preparation.

The growing cold and coming

Darkness warns of nearing need

For shelter and hoarding.

But the warm light with its

Mesmerizing hushed shadows

Lure us into deep slumber

Relaxing our better wisdom.

I will have an update soon on my progress toward the larger set of 50 goals—those I accomplished and those I did not. As I said in that post, I reserved the right to amend it. This serves as an amendment in that I intend to post a poem every Monday rather than in batches or all at once. I’ve been working on them, but I’d be lying if I said I delayed with this one-a-week plan in mind.

So here goes . . .

Time Capsule

Time is a funny thing.

It drifts then spurts then drifts then fades.

It affects my age.

At first it is just the number

later just an exercise in relativity.

Time passes and wisdom replaces ambition.

A gap emerges

between what I can imagine

and what I can achieve.

I find I have more memories than goals.

So I set new goals, but then realize

those are just attempts

to regain lost memories.