chase the sun


What does it benefit a man to chase the sun?
like marking lines in the sand at low tide
all efforts washed away by new dawns
steps to the east, then back to the west
staggering confused under the glowing orb
resigned and defeated, he chases the moon
instead of gold, now in search for platinum
yet one follows the other in a waltz-like dance
dizzying the mind with reflected light

Then what does it benefit him to stand still?
like a stone by a river, getting wet only with rain
the action passes by, while lichen grows like apathy
a man’s muscles atrophy and his brain wilts
though he has the sky to dance for him
none of the experiences are his own to cherish
movies of men chasing and capturing, leaving desire

So perhaps it is not the destination or the goal?
the lines of age, the scars of battle, the passport stamps
in the journey, there is frustration and disappointment
and the option remains to sit back and watch
take in the racing river or the dancing sky
but in following the sun and playing with the stars
rolling in the river to shake off the debris of failure
man finds the gold and platinum of life’s purpose




what’s one going to do?
OK, maybe I’ll have just two
An hour has past
the pitchers is gone
find a shackled slave to icy brews

come meet me for a drink
I need to talk to see what you think
starting with deep matters
turned to drunken blathers
now sounding more like the missing link

man, I’ve had a hell of a day
nothing has gone quite my way
my boss is upset
and the wife will be too
good thing happy hour is moments away

please read my cardboard sign
its stylings are all my design
spare some change
or buy me a beer
at this point i’ll settle for wine



hastened words bounce off hollow hearts
thoughts evaded driven by pure adrenaline
corroded silver linings fighting to shine through
failing and flailing, tested through tempests
tortoise shelled egos hindering progress
heavy promises anchor wispy reactions
a pause, a cause for concern
rational thought sings like a chorus
lifting the concealed reason for confrontation
exposed innards dangle vulnerably in sight
chagrins depart as the death kill never comes
parting clouds reveal red sky at night
calm seas are predicted ahead

a new path


on my walk I found a path
leading alongside a river
cut through thicketed woods
a safe haven from the brambles

as I walked the river sang
the scenery danced to lullabys
ne’er a person betwixt my way
and pleasantly I went on

then it seems, by some odd fate
the landscape seemed to change
eroded shores fell to hungry rapids
there must have been a big storm

rocks and roots, now exposed
caused hazards to each step
when finally I made an about face
as the path fell into the river

no forks nor bridges to aid my walk
and with walls of heavy woods directing
I turned to find where it all had started
looking for yet another path to lead the way

brix of time


between the rows of the vines
we walk ’til harvest time
fertilize, water, prune and tend
the fruit will ripen crimson hues
in your cheeks and my own
growing sweeter as it matures
then offering us great wine
so our love will flower
and then ferment to fortify our lives
when it seems something
has grown amiss with our tender fruits
a touch of Botrytis only amplifies
the sweetness in its brix



she didn’t laugh or question
why there were pots everywhere
on the floor of the bedroom
in the hall and down the stairs
I told her anyway
they were catching whispers
collecting in pools for future use
to fill a warm bath of love

love’s flow


I started by contemplating the dam
confused as to why it existed
walked the shores to give it reason
but finding none decided to get to work

at first I could only remove small branches
debris came loose and flowed down river
dirtying clear waters downstream
as the currents pressured progress
the real labor then began

boulders and uprooted tree trunks
man-made stormwash anchored down
some too big for a humble man
for those I called for helping hands

still other things were left to God
now pieces of the past obstruction
giving beauty to the river’s flow
swirling in a shimmering dance
crystalline purity with no end
and an unlimited source

Ode to Spring


you walk with petaled fragrance
wafting all of your hellos
announced like trumpeted heralds
yet eyes nor ears need know

the four winds do your bidding
running daftly to and fro
bringing word of your arrival
to the paupers and to thrones

primal nesting must commence
and germination has its start
the fruits of flowers now insisting
their perfuming airs depart

exciting beasts of every kind
stimulating insects, fish,  and birds
in search of mates in flocks and hives
packs, prides, schools, colonies and herds

and thusly natures bounty
is displayed for all to see
but first come aromatic gusts
inviting new life in the breeze



She must have spoken to them
to prepare for the coming life
adorning the house with doilies
just practice for her later state
each an intricate creation
catching bauble crystals
now, years later I find myself looking
at the arachnid stitching
catching blotted pearls of rain
and think granny’s now a spider
still adorning her old home

Evil Nymph


sitting silent on a stump in the wood
contemplating on nothing good
a saw the little nymph compose her magic spell
sneaking closer I tripped and fell
becoming the recipient of her chants
understanding not one of her rants
next I woke in someplace new
bound and caged, nowhere I knew
the mischievous creature grinning wide
her next intentions she did not hide
boiling a cauldron of human size
her gaze transfixed on her dinner prize
the guest of honor would not eat
I would serve only for my meat

struggling against my limbs’ constraints
panic stricken, I almost faint
then from the left a wondrous sight
my father’s bow, arrow pulled tight
once he felled that cursed hine
in releasing me from the sinewy binds
he now turned away from the beast
but his arrow had only grazed it’s breast
it stood now angry craving blood
approached my father where he stood
turning quickly to face the monster
a knife drawn to battle his accoster

my fear gave way to buckled knees
landing softly on it’s nest of reeds
then when I did finally wake
in my bed, at father’s place
I ran to find out what had happened
to find he thought by brain had slackened
my entire story was surreal
childish dreams that seemed too real