the echoes are ghosts
wandering invisibly
through our souls,
the fading reminders
of what we once were.
Tag: poetry
periphery
we wait for something to intervene,
anything to take away
this monotony of chaos. the pace
exhausts us to the point of mindless
motion. keep going. another step.
then unsettled sleep, for tomorrow
we begin again what never ends.
we long for the hand of god to lift
us from this routine of madness
when all along the slightest flicker
on the periphery is food
enough for the starving soul.
the coffin
Embed from Getty Images
his eyes are fixed upon me,
envisioning the scene inside –
the darkness. the cold stale air.
her eyes sewn shut.
the subdued voices muffled
by this polished oak frame.
the winter is severe outside,
and snow covers the ground.
most of the family sits close to me
yet he stands just outside
the blue makeshift covering.
the wind wildly blows its fingers
through his white hair, stings his face,
and whispers past his perfect
handlebar mustache. but those eyes.
maybe he sees himself in here,
unwilling to step into a shelter
away from the relentless wind.
Winter
Words form slowly in winter
when wind blows rigid
branches in the first freeze.
White flakes gently fall
while the trees write stories
in the sky. My breath
sticks to a window warm
and gray where I trace words
from memory. They fade
into fog like passing thoughts,
beginning again the lonely scene.
* A revision of a poem written 20 years ago.
Communion
I had an idea that love
was friends at a table,
watching our kids play
as we played grown-up and talked.
Somehow though, we fed off
each other’s grief and joy
in a more lasting way
than any meal set before us.
benediction
i dream of magnificent light
pouring through colored windows,
spraying the room with beams
from another world. three children
approach a small table and peer
into a book with moving pictures.
a dragon. then a bear whose strange eyes
can see the future. a cloudy sky with rain
falling on the horizon. after a few
minutes transfixed by the pages,
an old man with one arm enters,
smiles, whispers inaudible words,
and the children become birds that twirl
higher as the stone vault transforms
into an endless springtime sky.
* From Awaiting the Images
the show
we sit inside the car
watching him dance alone
in a field by the school.
one step, then another,
arms up, spinning around,
step again, head nodding.
even from this distance
we see him smile as his
mouth forms words only known
by those who dance in fields
while the world whirls away.
Free Kindle Book – Awaiting the Images – Final Day
Today is the last day to download my book from Amazon for free. Thanks!
* * *
I want to say ‘thank you’ to everyone who has visited my blog and supported me in this new endeavor of sharing my poems. For the next three days, the Kindle version of Awaiting the Images is available as a free download from Amazon.
This offer is available to anyone, so please pass along the link if you wouldn’t mind.
The Game
We followed him and believed he was unaware
of our presence. Out the front door, across the yard,
then around the corner of the garage. We crept
forward and held our breath, anticipating the moment
we gave ourselves away. But he walked from task
to task, pulling weeds, clipping yellow flowers,
sweeping leaves from the pathway. Then we became
more bold, chuckling quietly to ourselves until,
with one masterful flick of his wrist, the garden
hose sprayed gallons of water into our hiding place,
sending us laughing and screaming across the grass
while he smiled larger than I ever believed possible.
From Every Moment a Second – Robert Okaji
In the mailbox today…looking forward to reading it over the Thanksgiving break.
Awaiting the Images 