Tag Archives: Patience

Friendly Girl (day 2105)

What have I become?
Rough rebellious edges
Carrying on in a dream I’ve surely built
Commonly misunderstood
In spite my lessons in patience
And I’m just looking for a friendly girl
Who enjoys the music I play every day.

No, not one to judge racially
Not one to define boundaries
Not one to mistreat, mistrust
I share in this mighty earth
Respecting green miracle of growth
And I’m just looking for a friendly girl
Who enjoys all the seeds that I sow.

What have I become?
Rough rebellious edges
Carrying on in a dream I’ve surely built
Commonly misunderstood
In spite my lessons in patience
And I’m just looking for a friendly girl
Who enjoys the music I play every day.

Looking back it’s not easy
Had my heart on the line
Had too many unwritten songs
Yet nothing’ll stop me
My drive is what makes me
And I’m just looking for a friendly girl
Who enjoys going for a ride.

What have I become?
Rough rebellious edges
Carrying on in a dream I’ve surely built
Commonly misunderstood
In spite my lessons in patience
And I’m just looking for a friendly girl
Who enjoys the music I play every day.

Moon at Midnight – Part XXI (day 1995)

part XX

At first it was hard to communicate with Willow
But we were inseparable
And we learned each other’s words
That helped us communicate
And what we lacked in spoken word
We made up for in body language
I hadn’t known many women in my time,
More familiar with an axe and squirrels,
But I learned Willow every way I could.

I learned how she hummed almost inaudibly
Before she woke me up
Dancing her fingers lightly over my sleeping body
As if they were sunlight
Warming my mind to the day;
I learned how her eyes looked shocked and innocent
When she couldn’t understand the words
I would excitedly share with her;
I learned her various routines
That announced each changing rhythm of the day;
I learned how much of a teacher
She was to Lily
Taking every moment she could to share
Her wisdom to her only child
With just the right enough patience
Matched with enough urgency
To encourage the blossoming child
To remember the things she must to survive.

I learned how she played with me
And laughed at my seriousness
She would push me to delay
In spots I hadn’t noticed in my hurry
Instantly draining whatever burden
I had riding about my shoulders
I learned her mischievous smile
When she would want me as her lover
And how she would lose all control
As she leaned her head back to my caress
Eager to remain entwined
Lost in the clutches of love.

Lily’s eyes would always grow larger
When she observed moments of our love
I knew that her adolescent crush
Wouldn’t let her sleep at night,
When Willow and I would share our passion
She seemed happier
Clearly part of her mothers spirit
That always sought to see happiness
In those around her
She would help as we learned to communicate as a family
Each playing a guessing game
That we became very accurate at
The more we learned each others’ rhythms.

part XXII

Floating Soul (day 1693)

Float my soul as wind does blow;
A field of drifting snow.
Long grass will tickle my fleeting heart,
Field posts as my deep breath.
My wisdom is an open sea
Torrenting above this frozen ground,
Truth for which I’m steady holds
Dirt which refuses me
The steady pull of gravity.
And in this I shall forever find
Patience of the naked deciduous,
A lark, yet steadfast cold.

Looking For Hope (day 1690)

From lines dragging down my wrists
I observed patience in a drop,
Dripping from my pointed forefinger
That rummaged odd bits discarded into
An old tin box.
I was looking for hope,
But instead found rusty nails
That left ocre upon my calloused tip,
Long ago since numb.

Dumping the remains onto the desk, I read out loud the words
That had been etched into the underside
By an uneven hand:
BOX 05 – EVIDENCE
These words sounded hallow,
And my thoughts once again followed
My wrists lines dripping
Onto the desk where an empty cartridge
Slowly rolled back and forth.

Pendulum Whispers (day 1601)

Surely whispers slowly yell –
To build out the axis
Layered in love:
An uneven groundscape of
Imagination and patience,
And I am not alone.
No, I am the average
Of simple moving axis
Shifting at the speed of
Your roaming wheels,
And a leafy autumn
In the midday sun.
This is the whisper of
Slow motion in a pendulum.

Into the Glen (day 1558)

As I sat in patience at a corner of my walk
Two oddly shaped pebbles looked back at me
As if saying: “All is well, all is good, have peace my brethren.”
To my surprise, illicitly, a tree sprouted up about.
It’s trunk was wide, a perfect brown peeking out from vertical alcoves
That suspended my thought – my memory – upon our mother.
I took notice of curled leaves brushing against my knees,
In sweet peace, in tranquility; gentle cooing of a romantic lover.
Her sweet embrace casually led me down sloping grass to a calm pond
Tickled by weeping willows and lily pads saying: “My, what a fine day, stay a while.”
So I stayed. I watched loons and swans swim endless loops – mindless to my observant eyes,
Finally settling on the same well kept slopes I rested upon,
Filled with little paths serving the gentle commotion.
At once I noticed clambering of little soldiers
Setting into order all disorder in a huff and bite.
So I took my patience back a padded path to where I had found my pebbles to bid them a good day
Carrying on, all the better, for my foray into the glen.

Bloody (day 1475)

Some days I get the fear
That even with my magic
I’ll still need a whole lot
of luck
of patience
And bloody hard work.

Bloody-by-Ned-Tobin

Truce (day 1446)

A little longer,
Lay and wait,
Patience to be caught
And kept.
A mighty sword
To strongly wield,
Until a truce
Been found.

Santa’s Merchant (day 1306)

Window shopping down an alley in Hell
The Keeper found one perfect device for all’s demise.
It spoke to him through double paned and tinted glass
Covered with festive snowflakes and cheer.
It sat beside the fat Santa and eight reindeer,
Each one much smaller than Santa himself.
And two cute little stuffed mice that squeaked as he stood there
Calculating and eyeballing the end of it all.
It wasn’t until the merchant smiled
And waved The Keeper on in
That he realized it hadn’t just been him watching in,
But destiny and patience had laid this plan many snowfall ago.
And all he had to do was smile
As the jolly merchant carefully wrapped
The perfect device into an old newspaper
And taped the loose ends together
Before he kindly asked: “Cash or credit, Keeper?”

A Chance to Be Faculty and Chief (day 1119)

A valley, like my mind, may look empty on the inside – void of all that makes up matter. Void of all the mass that builds houses and factories and city roads and flower gardens and traffic jams.

For cannot this still matter? I am lost in a wasted land, and the fight challenges my patience along grated edges of wisdom.

Do you hear the sharp bells ringing? Is this the difference that is ringing, or has freedom finally called my name?

The sheath shall sadly fall apart, ragged from too much use like a cocktail napkin at a lipstick party. History shall not scream loudly here. This is not the bitter pages of a non-fiction picture book.

Here we have wrinkled tin garbage cans rolling lifelessly along unkempt lawns of former princes’, former glory holes that believed in a dream. A lifeless dream built on waste management systems and recycling plans.

So I cannot spoil my food anymore. My valley – running deep – is the chance to be faculty and chief. My valley is the early morning breath and the dying chances. My valley is the shortened season and the wilderness.

My valley is me, and I’ve begun to see.

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