There plants the feet of the sure to fall and fall
but uncaring and faring the
weather the best she may
Some people study acorns in college.
Small Cow – Acorns in College
Reply
Tag Archives: poem
Red Journal – Poem – Drive Through
We drive through as if we see
more than a few dotted yellow lines
and a few inches of crumbling black
Pieces of pine trees emerge,
emulating an outline for our
path traveled.
Eyes ahead, we sometimes spare eachother glances.
Our tattered clothes rest upon yellow bits of foam
poking through, against us.
His weathered, nicotine hands grip
the pin pricked pattern of
brown, leather
wheel.
One denim and grease leg is stead to the floor.
The other leg rocks side to side
keeping in time with the tune
on the radio.
One hand rests his head
lids half open, four ‘o clock shadow running late
lips half parted in concentration on the early am mist
parting for the boat front.
Moment Seed
We all go for the moment seed.
Running wild,
you know yourself
inside the flesh.
Clipped
Motion sickness
living between worlds
newness amiss
freedom unfurled.
Spread your wings.
Fly up high.
Past defy.
You forgot the sky.
Spread your wings.
Betray your past.
Nothing lasts.
Nothing lasts.
Rest
When I stop,
time when the dust settles
streaming through the sunbeam,
is when I can’t hold my
hopes up any longer.
Rest.
All I need is rest.
When the chase ends,
when the sweat settles on skin,
I feel cold, icy burning to run again.
When I’m working
there is no shame if I’m
not yet there.
I’m moving,
even if it is in circles.
The what ifs cascade into silence.
I must keep moving
with the babble of the brook,
the river of time,
for there is no time
for rest.
Instead I shall humbly plan
for all the things I’ll never do
and forget to enjoy the
moment of stillness.
Never still,
never silent,
never stop,
never rest.
Never.
Last Bliss
Bliss dressed for eternity
take off your mask.
Let me see
what never lasts.
Lying in wait is the weight of age.
The story of things past take center stage.
I bow at the curtain, eyes down in regret
For the encore I’ll try to forget.
Everything in its place, I thought it’d be far
but the only by traveling did I realize what we are.
Statues stand in our poses of hopes
never moving a muscle to pull the ropes.
The reins of change call to courage we don’t keep.
The complacency in our souls is set to steep.
Comfort is calling and it’s easy to answer.
Only when looking back I see the daring dancer
that never was and could have been,
would be the same if we’d tried again.