December 18, 2016 The Sunday Whirl @78 -- Sunday's Whirligig #90 -- Poets United Poets Pantry/ The Chrildren of Aleppo

The Children of Aleppo

today cold         perfect day to curl up on the couch            cuddle into the cushions

select a favorite book    thrust my toes toward the fire        the morning quiet

the neighborhood like a graveyard      no one about       snowflakes balance on the sage

the sun is out        snow glistens as it melts        dripping moisture onto the thirsty earth

christmas cards still in the package     maybe they are for next christmas     even the wind

is lazy today                still snuggled in             the mother and father playing makebelieve

tell the children about a jolly fat man dressed in red            who drives a team of reindeer

on christmas eve          brings good children gifts            a bag of switches for bad children

... I wonder... what did the children of Aleppo do?

worlds collide             they say it is civil war life                          grinds to a halt

war machines take the streets       life a nightmare                        the volume of war

turned up                    children scream                                          grown men cry

misery is everywhere        everyone trying to escape                    find a safe place

someone dreams of the warmth of straw in the barn                sunbeams filter through

dust motes in the air     eating figs on a summer's day      wasting the afternoon because we can

memories of another time                  today is cold                   our homes in rubble

the road home has vanished        struck from the face of the earth       death and destruction

the symbol of war is everywhere           citizens mutter           search the rubble

for bread                                      the spirit of man down                        but not out

comfortable in our warm beds             we wonder                    how they do it

could we do the same                  could we survive                   could our children

December 18, 2016

December 14, 2016 Poets United Midweek Motif -- Music/

Spirit's Song

the music i like most        is made by the wind        when it whistles through the sage

and across the mesa         winter wind comes to my door          wants me to let him in

songs of birds                   beautiful and mysterious              as they call to each other

from the tops of sage        in lonely canyons                      canyon songs can be heard

in the late afternoon          the sounds of drums                         float to meet me

the river babbles and sings          as it flows south              heading for the border

spirit is in the wind            its' song echoes in my mind            no need of words

my body sways                  i am surrounded by your song         i visualize your return

                                                                                                     ...i hum along

December 14, 2016

December 11, 2016 Sunday's Whirligig #87 -- The Sunday Whirl #277-- Poets United/ The Answer

The Answer

you say it is the answer but what is the question

the question changes the focus changes we change

the morning grey overcast clouds hang low

cover the mountain tops the yellow sun sleeps late

pulls the covers over his head snuggles back into his cozy bed

often life itself seems like a game who will win

who has the momentum who will hit a foul ball

the crack of the bat the ball flies high perhaps it will be you

who catches the ball or perhaps it will be a home run

take all the bases rejoice your reputation is not tarnished

there is no grime on the bus windows your vision clear

no shame you are still sane though a bit unsteady

your instincts will get you through you haven't lost your touch

the wheel spins you pick three you wait

put up your shield close the door look for answers

December 11, 2016

December 4 2016 Sunday's Whirligig -- Poets United Poets Pantry/To Die

To Die

to die      it's just a matter of time             be it then or now

be it autumn        when the leaves fall from the trees      bare limbs remain

your favorite time of year     ...or some other exceptional time      your leaving

will be a loss        i will suffer                   and there will be longing

i have walked this path before        not to say              i know it all

i do not                  only my own experience                it is hard

there is no outline       no instructions                           no map

you will be languid        there will be hints                   but no escape

no way back                   the road only goes forward        there will be no more

it is the last thing we do       no one knows what comes after          only silence

December 4, 2016                 

November 27, 2016 The Sunday Whirl #275 -- Sunday's Whirligig #85 -- Poet's United Poet's Pantry / Patterns of Change

Patterns of Change

as we live      we find we do things over and over     until they become patterns

patterns define us       give keys to who we are          patterns of speech

patterns of movement patterns of expression            you say you want change

change isn't easy          hard to drop old ways            over time we have become

who we are                    point to our chest                    this is who i am

like the sculptor            i have worked hard                 to become me

in all my weirdness       who is to say                 we are not like the house of cards

if one is pulled               the whole thing might fall       who can say which one

not to sound righteous     but accept me as i am           less than perfect                    

no easy way to remove          the offensive parts           cannot be cut away with scissors

swinging from your chatelaine       in church we heard       remove the plank

from your own eye      before you attempt to remove the splinter from mine     all is quiet

someone coughs in the back     the sound echoes           the liturgy continues              

i am not a sudden appearance     but rather i am a work in progress     i am not an apparition

i have been here for a long time        creating patterns     i hold the ends of the yarn

thread the shuttle        weave a life                                   in my own image

where is it written       we can ask another to change         we have been ourselves       

since we were kids       we have heard the call                      we have answered

now we are old              change isn't easy                               at any age

the day will come          we will lie flat                                     we will be food for the crows

we will begin to smell      you will recognize the change         the last change we will make

loved ones dabbing                tears from their eyes                  it will be a furtive change

the patterns we created          will be set                                    will be remembered

November 27, 2016

                                                                                                           

                                   

                                   

  

November 27, 2016 The Sunday Whirl #275 -- Sunday's Whirligig #85 -- Poet's United Poet's Pantry / Patterns of Change

Patterns of Change

as we live          we find we do things over and over               until they become patterns

patterns define us       give keys to who we are                        patterns of speech

patterns of movement patterns of expression                          you say you want change

change isn't easy                   hard to drop old ways                  over time we have become

who we are                             point to our chest                         this is who i am

like the sculptor                      i have worked hard                     to become me

in all my weirdness                who is to say                         we are not like the house of cards

if one is pulled                        the whole thing might fall            who can say which one

not to sound righteous            but accept me as i am                        less than perfect                    

no easy way to remove          the offensive parts                  cannot be cut away with scissors

swinging from your chatelaine           in church we heard                 remove the plank

from your own eye      before you attempt to remove the splinter from mine     all is quiet

someone coughs in the back             the sound echoes                   the liturgy continues              

i am not a sudden appearance           but rather i am a work in progress     i am not an apparition

i have been here for a long time        creating patterns                    i hold the ends of the yarn

thread the shuttle                    weave a life                                        in my own image

where is it written                   we can ask another to change         we have been ourselves       

since we were kids                we have heard the call                       we have answered

now we are old                       change isn't easy                               at any age

the day will come                   we will lie flat                                      we will be food for the crows

we will begin to smell             you will recognize the change           the last change we will make

loved ones dabbing                tears from their eyes                          it will be a furtive change

the patterns we created          will be set                                           will be remembered

November 27, 2016

                                                                                                           

                                   

                                   

  

November 26, 2016 Writers Digest November Chapbook Challenge 2016/ You Came as a Visitor

You Came as a Visitor

you came as a visitor             as we all are                     to my world

a beautiful boy                      a joy to hold                      straight and tall

a child to all                          didn't stay long                  i should have known

you would always be a visitor      found nowhere to call home          you were my son

the only one                         the child i loved                  an alien to be sure

came from another world       perhaps another planet           had your own thoughts

you came to me                   heard my call                       and there you were

for a little while                   blue eyes like the clear blue sky            blond hair

like the setting sun               a joy to see                              you made your own way

far from me                         and all who loved you                  found your own place

remained a visitor               all of your life                         a visitor who heard my call

November 26, 2016

November 25, 2016 Writer's Digest Nobember Chapbook Challenge 2016 -- Will a Little Tape Help

Will a Little Tape Help

to mend                          to put back together                                 to cover a wound

one side sticky               one side plain                             how to mend a relationship

what about a little tape   will it work                                             will it hold

a little torn paper             a broken toy                                           words spoken

to hurt                              will a little tape help                              cover the offense

a glass dropped                smashed to a million pieces              can they be recovered

taped back into shape      and what about a heart that is broken          will a little tape help

November 25, 3016

November 23, 2016 Writer's Digest November PAD Challenge 2016 / When You Come Again -- Poets United Midweel Motif/ Stretching the Truth

When You Come Again

when you come again      or... will you come again          how long has it been

how many months           how many days                         hours/minutes/seconds

the emptiness stretches    expands like a rubber band       or...the land before me

which stretches to the horizon     and then i can see no more   except for the clear blue sky

still... i search the horizon      for the dust that rises          from your pony

i wait for your return     nothing happens in between        only the ticking of the clock

in years past            so many thanksgivings                       prepare the turkey

put it on early      tv on to watch the thanksgiving parade         so many people

crowd along the streets         balloons fly above                 sometimes cold

sometimes not           commentators chatter constantly       a relief when it is turned off

family and friends gather       glasses tinkle                         toasts are made

wishes exchanged          memories of other years                other thanksgivings

the old songs are played       on the phonograph                church bells ring in the valley

drums from the pueblo         fill the air                               cultures mix

cheery hellos               waved across the way                     the news offers little promises

i step through the looking glass      where all is new          clear/resolved

i reach under my shirt      place my hand on my breast       feel my heart still beating

it does not ease the longing         i wait for you                   will you come again

November 23, 2016

_____________________________________________________________________

Stretching the Truth

let's stretch the truth a little       it must have been a million years      since i saw you last

i remember a spring day            way back in ancient times                 in your bed

a cozy cocoon                             you yourself was not a larva             but seemed to be

just ready to become a butterfly           and you did                             flew away

out the window                         into the sunlight                             free from what held you

free from pain                           i alone                                                 watched you go

knew your destination               and now                                              you wait for me

still the river of time rushes       life doesn't stand                               still i try to keep up

try not to get stuck in the past    my thoughts face forward                yet sometimes

march backward                         with spyglass                                    they look for you

November 23, 2016          

November 22, 2016 Writer's Digest November PAD Challenge 2016

All That You Were Meant to Be

you share with me your very best      ask me to tear it up        return the tiny pieces

all in the interest of growth         growth is the challenge       and the desire

sometimes it is hard          how to skip from stone to stone     reach a new level

how to see what was there all along     what wasn't seen before      what held us back

often there is resistance      a reluctance to throw away            what was hard won

who says it is so                 who doesn't                                   still it is hard to find one

who will tell you the truth   that elusive thing                          that subjective thing

it is up to you                     to take what you need                       and discard the rest

find your own truth            i am here to help                              look through the glass

describe what i see         knowing there could be pain                 i will try to take care

but make no promises       there can be no detours                   because of hurt feelings

scattered about like potholes      a desire for comfort                        a tender heart

i want for you the very best       all that you can be             all that you were meant to be

November 22, 2016

November 20, 2016 the Sunday Whirl #275 -- Sunday's Whirligig #86 -- Poets United Poet's Pantry/ Sing the Old Songs/Remember

Sing the Old Songs/Remember

no it is never easy              but through it all                  we hold on

our voices quake      we sing old familiar songs     we are joyful to meet again

another year has passed      with repetition                      we create a pattern

drop all that we do         meet again/exchange words       share the news

we follow parallel paths      from beginning to end              a call beckons

strike the keys with your lovely fingers      you say            “i still love my life”

yes we are blessed       we have known joy and sorrow       we are not righteous

but we try to be honest             about who we are                where we have been

our needs are primal         our work feeds the desire       it lies flat on the table behind me

waiting                 the clock ticks /strikes the hour time             slides out under the door

gives a plaintive cry          stands and walks away                  there is only so much to give

it has nothing else         when time is gone/it is gone                and cannot be recovered

you sing again               words to the old songs                          fall from your lips

it is a means of remembering      things that happened                   along the way

you smell a scent           the cologne you wore                          the nose remembers

you feel the texture of the cloth      the roughness of your jacket     your fingers remember

the words follow                 still singing you trill                      the last notes of the old songs

November 20, 2016

Note: All but one.

November 18, 2016 Writer's Digest November PAD Challenge 2016 -- The Slate is Clean

The Slate is Clean

the slate is clean       no words written there            a school day begins

i remember myself   a quiet student                         until the adolescent years

it was then i began to talk      i couldn't stop myself        one semester i was given 

                                                                                   64 detentions

each detention was 15 minutes       there was no logic to it     my mouth would open

and i would begin to talk         i was caught in a web      of my own making

eventually i out-grew this talking stage         and returned to my quiet self

                                                                                    words spoken

words wasted                  words without meaning                    packed away

as if banked for later use      those words have come forth              when needed

written down                  shared with no one                           the slate is clean

November 18, 2016

November 13, 2016 Writer's Digest November PAD Challenger 2016

Play For Keeps

1

all in                              play for keeps                                       roll the dice

sometimes you win       sometimes you don't              take a chance

dance to the music        the music only you hear         sing your song

roar like a lion               howl like a coyote                sprinkle it with love

or sparkling stars      gathered on a starry night     remember your mommy

and your daddy             play for keeps                        make it count

you only have so much time        when you look at the big picture

                                                                                                 it ain't long

2

we are but fireflies          sparking off and on               in the forest clearing

fairy dust shimmers         the path is lit                         we have but to follow

pick up your hand            the cards are dealt                   no two hands alike

bounce the ball                 pick up the jacks                      or pick up sticks

board games                     pin the tail on the donkey         blindman's bluff

the day comes to an end     children gather                     red rover/red rover

life is a game or a stage play         from the first act to the last        play for keeps

November 16, 2016

Note:  Life does seem like a game, or stage play.  What's it all about Alphie?  Still we continue,
get up each morning, grab the to-do list, and follow through.  Evening comes, we lie down to rest, knowing it is all to be done again tomorrow.  And then it is over.....

November 13, 2016 Writer's Digest November PAD Challenger 2016

Play For Keeps

1

all in                              play for keeps                                       roll the dice

sometimes you win       sometimes you don't              take a chance

dance to the music        the music only you hear         sing your song

roar like a lion               howl like a coyote                sprinkle it with love

or sparkling stars      gathered on a starry night     remember your mommy

and your daddy             play for keeps                        make it count

you only have so much time        when you look at the big picture

                                                                                                 it ain't long

2

we are but fire flies          sparking off and on               in the forest clearing

fairy dust shimmers         the path is lit                         we have but to follow

pick up your hand            the cards are dealt                   no two hands alike

bounce the ball                 pick up the jacks                      or pick up sticks

board games                     pin the tail on the donkey         blindman's bluff

the day comes to an end     children gather                     red rover/red rover

life is a game or a stage play         from the first act to the last        play for keeps

November 16, 2016

Note:  Life does seem like a game, or stage play.  What's it all about Alphie?  Still we continue,
get up each morning, grab the to-do list, and follow through.  Evening comes, we lie down to rest, knowing it is all to be done again tomorrow.  And then it is over.....

November 13, 2016 Writer's Digest November PAD Challenger 2016

Play For Keeps

1

all in play               for keeps                                       roll the dice

sometimes you win       sometimes you don't              take a chance

dance to the music        the music only you hear         sing your song

roar like a lion               howl like a coyote                sprinkle it with love

or sparkling stars      gathered on a starry night     remember your mommy

and your daddy             play for keeps                        make it count

you only have so much time        when you look at the big picture

                                                                                                 it ain't long

2

we are but fire flies          sparking off and on               in the forest clearing

fairy dust shimmers         the path is lit                         we have but to follow

pick up your hand            the cards are dealt                   no two hands alike

bounce the ball                 pick up the jacks                      or pick up sticks

board games                     pin the tail on the donkey         blindman's bluff

the day comes to an end     children gather                     red rover/red rover

life is a game or a stage play         from the first act to the last        play for keeps

November 16, 2016

Note:  Life does seem like a game, or stage play.  What's it all about Alphie?  Still we continue,
get up each morning, grab the to-do list, and follow through.  Evening comes, we lie down to rest, knowing it is all to be done again tomorrow.  And then it is over.....