Poem: How It Happens

How It Happens

Line by line,
verse by verse,
sometimes dissonant,
sometimes lyrical and agonizing,
filled
with surprises, pain
and soaring pleasure,
life unfolds
like Scheherazade's stories,
full of just enough
mystery
to keep you alive
one more day.

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This poem was inspired by a line in David King's poem today (It has no title, so you will have to look for his May 12th poem), a half line that I blatantly stole to travel somewhere completely different with .

If you have not read King's poetry, you should. He's wonderful and wonderfully prolific. An almost daily read for me.

The picture is of a painting I have been working on. I had no image that caught the poem, so I grabbed this one, since like most art, and all life, it is a work in progress.

Tom
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Poem: Boathouse Thoughts

Boathouse Thoughts

Tied by a single rope,
oars slightly askew,
the boat waits,
protected now,
still in still waters,
yet knowing
that this is not
what it was made for,
that every bent board
and nail
were constructed not
for stillness,
but to move
beyond this boathouse
to places
unknown.

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The picture was taken in Cornwall, England. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: Any Journey Worth Taking

Any Journey Worth Taking

Any journey
worth taking
will never be
in
a straight line.

There will be bridges
washed out, and rocks
upon which you will
bounce,
ripped by streams that leave you

with broken ribs and broken hearts
on the side of the road.

No journey worth taking
is monochrome.
There will be colors.
Colors you love,
and colors you do not,

bright and joyously garish,
that make you wince and laugh
as you step in puddles
uncaring

that the destination
is not really
the destination.

======================

Anyone else's journey not what they imagined? Embrace it!

The picture was taken at the Washington County, New York county fair. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: Up and Down

Up and Down

Gravity is easy.
It pulls you down
a predictable path,
no effort required
to direct the fall,
spiraling downward,
a direct result
of events, of a simple trip
that sends you down the stairs,
bouncing, breaking
to the dark bottom.

Rising is not so easy,
more deliberate,
fighting beyond the weight
of your past, of pain,
of events, rising with effort,
defying gravity,
and spiraling upward
towards the light.

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The picture was taken in Munich, Germany. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: Suddenly Young

Suddenly Young

You watch as the young boy stands at the crest of the hill,
arms raised to the heavens, singing, conducting
his private symphony of joy,

no attention paid to the storm clouds
dark against the horizon,
he is content with his moment of sun

and imagination, content
with the memory of songs and spring
that dance with him.

You cannot help your smile, watching his joy,
and your legs, tired from long miles
of hiking up and down ancient mountains

have a sudden urge to dance,
suddenly young again, filled
with the almost forgotten joys of childhood.

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The picture was taken along the Appalachian trail, near Troutville, Va. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: Prelude to a Dance

Prelude to a Dance

This house, once so full of life,
is empty for you now,
a museum that bears only a surface resemblance
to the place you once dwelled,

with no pictures on the walls
or warm flames in the abandoned fireplaces,
no laughter in the halls,
nothing but a single chair in each room

like a surrealist painting,
yet real,
a place for strangers to sit
when they are tired.

You sat there once,
a stranger in your own house,
confused and passive,
waiting for the color to return,

until you understood
that the color was around you,
outside and beyond,
and you could wait no longer, until

like a child on the first day of May,
you could not help yourself, but ran
outside, and danced the wild dance
of dandelion seeds in the warm wind of spring.

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The picture was taken at Poplar Forest, Thomas Jefferson's less famous home in Forest Va. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom