Deserveth

For if I got to sail’s end
Upon the glee of life
Should shake the dust
From each thy sword
To battle, ho! Thy fun!
Not of angry blood spilled
In trod battlefield,
Nor in a race of men,
But in thy quest of spiriting
Each bone amidst my quest.
Shake me, again!
For should I not arise
To meet each day with grit,
I should sooner be trampled afoot
Each horse drawing mighty Hades
Crumpled into an unfit mess
Deserveth of lack spent.
So gracefully, then,
I grab thy sword
Clean ‘er pommel to point
Place her not to rest at bay
Amidst cocooning leather bound,
Place her strong within thy grasp
Of ambition and desire for life!

Whisper (day 3206)

Whisper-by-Ned-Tobin

This hurts and I’m not sure
And I don’t want to guess anymore.
So I clap both my hands
To suggest who I am.

Not for a way,
Not for a guess,
Not for a little bit,
Not for the end.

And I whisper
Into the death of my vision
So I may not know
The next steps to be taken
With wind in my face
And a slump, lacking all grace.

Palms (day 3204)

What brings the soul of a man
Deep within the palm of his hand?
For I have seen two men astray
Neither I tried to save.
In the grace of our Gods
We stand before each war we fought
Did we strike the hammer strong
Or lose out before our lungs
Belted loud our souls devout.
Have I faced the pain inside?
Did I let my body cry?
Was it I who charged ahead
Though each wind spoke up in dread?
Tell me sweetly in my good ear
Was I faithful to each your dream
Can I be the trusted man
Of your every step?
For I hold my palms open
To feel the warmth of every day
I have spoken out your name
In hopes it leads my heart so true
And if it shall bring my life astray
May I be the man to say
My palms are wet.

For Tomorrow (Broken Arrow) (day 3203)

I chose the path of a broken arrow
Bent and fragmented
In the soil I grow
For once I was mad
With hate so hot
Spent life speeding
From spot to target
With venemous fuel.
I was long and straight,
I fought a great battle
Now I’m bent
And given away
My grace and beauty
For a place exposed
To wiles and whims
Of nature’s fancy
Where the guise of time
Will swallow me whole
As a man in slippers
On a dirt path
For tomorrow.

A Dance Too Good For Life (day 3038)

As if the earth could ever see
Darwinian modes of ease
To see a leaf upon a tree
Blowing about the stem
Back and forth with every grace
A dance I could never trace
Delicate as a flower in bloom
Tough as nails that close a tomb
To anchor a setting sun
Upon the branch that bursts the buds
Then grouping in a seasonal array
One of Summer’s finest delights
That change the landscape one dare not stop
For as the bud shifts to a stem
Stem to a new growth
New growth takes the sprint of life
To bursting red and orange and brown
Then in one last graceful dance
A leap too good for chance to take
Downward left to fall away
Death pose into finale.

At the Gates (day 2834)

For it was not the forgotten
The lost
Emancipated yet still beyond.
It cried in open grace
As ancient wisdom
Ran down it’s thriving face.
Ritual abided;
Nature presided.
Delicacy tingled
Down worthy veins
And touched what fettered lines
Could only whisper.
There it was;
Sunlight becoming
Brave, luminous, potent,
Crying for all that’s been lost
Yet standing tall
At the gates of judgement.

Sun Dried (day 2716)

It was late July
And there stood every Grace
Sun spots and vinegar
And a cigarette in tow.
She thought she was cool
– Dusty cowboy boots –
Humming out my sweetest tune
She smile and blew a kiss,
So I leaned to see
But missing me was the point
I left a mark on her guitar.
She had eyes that looked afar
There I, off in July
And there stood every Grace
Sun-dried windowsills
My heart torn
By the very sun
And I run so I run
And I cry so I cry
In late July I wondered why
To the sea that swallowed me

Dare These Wings to Fly (day 2595)

Dare these wings to fly
Though they ache like grace feels shy
And the good calls lonely
With each sunset it watches,
Walking away from pennies on the pavement
While holding on to nothing
– No resemblance of life.
Can a rhythm be found?
A pulse of life struggling
With iron clad hemispheres
Buckling down a goodnight.
So there, can flight be had?
Geese migrate South
As these trees set in
For an evening of dew
And a pale awakening
To ancient songs of return.

Mountain Tops (day 2573)

I roared so fiercely through my being
I shook the mountain tops so high,
Upon which to leave a plateau
For your grace to rest upon.
And like the forest we crossed below,
We screamed of wilderness!
A yell that shook the river’s flow –
Turbulent and rambling froth.
Now the golden lace of sun
Set its throbbing fingers upon
Your back of a leopard’s frame
Which gave way to the universe’s spin.