Tag: life

Unpicked

Every grain of sand is consuming.
Winter after winter culls
Our offerings, and our reserves,
Overripened, go unpicked.

We only rehearse our songs to Silence,
But if we were heard, and approval
Laid on us, would we know what to do?

If it is a genius that alights
On me, how do I form a technique
From it; and where beyond the sand
Can one find a base to build?

The words and directions of others can't 
Reveal memories' inner world;
But to be there with them and to share
In the common dream, like beholding a peacock,

The world beyond yet partaken in,
If you could just accept and exalt it.
Even the unpicked fruit gets eaten.

This Living

I won't refuse it, this living of mine.
Frustration glares at me like a sign:
My era is ending; I'm losing my way.
That's been true, but why decay
When once I bloomed upon this vine?

You know, once I would decline
Handshakes out of terror. How fine
it is now! Kenny drops by and says hey; 
     I won't refuse it.

I thought I had to change my line.
I thought I had to leave behind
This chapter. Before I never ate,
Now I do with laughter. Why say
That now this humble life's supine;
     I won't refuse it.

Whatever

Whatever can be a beautiful term,
Not just a juvenile linguistic squirm.
The word exists in many forms.
Despite it earning my partner's scorn,
Sometimes the word helps me stand firm.

On occasions when rage in traffic worms
Its way inside, extinguish the burn.
Even if they honk the horn,
Whatever.

When my lover fears I'd spurn
Him for something shallow as a derm;
When he asks me so forlorn
What I'd do to help but a thorn
Of his dreams come true; I reaffirm:
Whatever.

That’s How it Goes

That's how it goes when you're not like the rest:
They lay down the rules that suit them the best,
But some of us play from a different book.
I don't think I'm above it, I'm no crook;
An addict perhaps, if I have transgressed.

Those of our kind, our static's possessed
By demons of sickness set to divest
Us of joie de vivre by their seething hooks.
                            That's how it goes.

How can one live at the system's behest?
None can be civil with spirits oppressed
By an inner void which hurts just to look
At, let alone have the courage to brook.
I have nothing to add nor to contest,
                              That's how it goes.

Parting is always sorrow

Parting is always sorrow,
Fear of uncertainty,
Discontinuity.

These ducks that have made their home
Here are the most beautiful 
And precious creatures I've known.

I've depended on
These days we've shared together;
Who says it has to end?

The fears I have for the future.
Granite's adventuring,
I believe he'll return like George.

Even so, Cory 
Misses him. As do I.
Will they miss us?

Nothing ties them down,
Inspiring as it is frightening.
We're united by chance.

How could we let them know
We're leaving but will return
To visit them forever?

What compact could be made
To tie our souls to this place,
Returning after time?

I think I'll be visiting
More than twice a week.
Easing into absence.

I can't bear the idea
They might feel they've lost us
Or grieve the lack of us.

Will they start to think,
"Did they move on;"
Well, won't we have?

We've both lived in so
Many different places,
Why not animals too?

Darling Granite, we miss you.
We miss your happy laughter.
We miss your squinching eyes.

I do believe you're safe
And probably not far,
Likely with Patch or Millay.

We've become accustomed
To your familiar smile
And gentle friendliness.

You've been here the longest
Of all the ducks we know.
Your presence is joy's communion.

Always and forever
We will search for your profile
On the grass lounging serenely.

You will always be
Cherished and remembered,
You and all of our friends.

Our hearts have expanded domains
Grown from Granite; from Marble;
From milky-eyed Mama;

From Armor and from Helmet;
From the fly-by-night girls;
And from poor little Miracle.

I swoon for animals;
They understand hello,
But never know goodbye.

I think of Lefty the mallard:
Against all odds, born
With a malformed wing, he thrives.

Lefty and all our friends
Who make this place their home,
Aren't we of them too?

This place, this time, this pond
Has found us all together
In our liberty-laden lives.

I think of Franklin and Percy,
Loyalty and Norm,
Steve and Zebra and Mama;

Helmet, George, and Edgar,
All of whom had left
And yet returned again.

This is what we have chosen.
We all may come and go,
That's how I know it's love.

I know that we'll come back,
And so I do believe
Granite will too.

***

Just yesterday Millay
Came swooping down to greet us.
We instantly knew each other.

The little outline of white
Around her beady eyes;
How she ran to us;

Her single tiny squeak 
As she jumped onto the grass
All confirmed it was she.

She said hello then flew off.
I'd bet she's seen Granite.