Poetry and Lyrics

BSR Art 8-BW

 

Filing Taxes – poem

Only vaguely knowing what is inside, I pick up the large manila envelope.
On the front printed in large black Sharpie-drawn letters
Are our names, address, and phone number.
It somehow reminds me of elementary school.
Taxes and the business of running the house are my wife’s domain.
She is very good with money. I am not.
I am barely more than a delivery boy.
I do, however, love everything about this annual trip out west into the country to our CPA’s home office.
In the driveway, my old pickup waits.
It is an impractical vehicle, older than is convenient.
Repairs are problematic, yet I love the way it feels to drive.
I love the way it feels to sit in the driver’s seat.
Somehow it connects me to a past that I didn’t live but wish I did.
Backing out of the driveway, gravel crunches as I am careful not to hit our mailbox.
Me and my truck head to RR12 and then HWY290 pointed west and out of town.
The town quickly evaporates from the roadside
Giving way to expansive meadows of green, yellow, purple, blue, and white.
Remembering to pay attention I hang a right on the correct road.
Many times, I miss the turn and travel quite a way down the highway
Before realizing my mistake.
Not this time.
The country road winds and twists undulating up and down rolling hills.
Old stone houses slide by from time to time.
My favorite is an old field-stone farmhouse
With a tumble-down barn and a rock cistern showing its age from a time long past.
A past I feel connected to from dreams and imaginings.
My pickup rattles across a cattle guard.
A brown cow looks up from the grass.
A large brown eye follows as I pass,
Then she bows her head and continues with more important matters.
Turning in the driveway of my CPA’s house and office,
I marvel at the push mowers, riding mowers, and other lawn equipment
Scattered like yard art in front and behind the out-building office.
I assume the unidentified pieces of metal are lawn equipment.
If truth be known, I know nothing of what most of it might be used for.
Might be farm equipment.
It might be something else.
I know less about that than I do about lawn equipment.
I rarely see my CPA.
We communicate and exchange documents
Using an old drop box with a slot to drop folders in
And a large reassuring padlock.
Leaving the truck running
I climb out and drop the manila envelope
Into the slot and it hits the bottom
With a satisfying thump.
Back in my truck I retrace my path
Passing the brown cow, the stone house,
The cistern, the multi-colored meadow.
Pulling into the driveway the tires crunch through the gravel.
Another annual delivery complete.
The engine is switched off.
I sit in the silence in
My old truck
Thinking of the past that never was mine but mine none the less.

Stable Moon – poem

Stable moon peeling back the water’s edge
making light white with shade.
What would the wondering be in this darkness?
The face of the shadow showing belief
in places unseen yet felt.
Stance not held with enthusiasm, but
rather nudged by the wind from the stars.

 

Simmer Dim Waltz – lyric

Echoes of ancient days
Off the northeast shore of Scotland
It remains a hard life
On the scattered isles of Shetland
The sun never sets
On warm slope-current days
The light won’t leave you alone
Holding on to old ways
Faces turned up to the sky
Need for dreams at an all time high
How long has it been
Got to get back to when
The stars are salting the sky
And the moon is hiding her eyes
We’ll step hand in hand
We’ll listen to the band
And do the Simmer Dim Waltz
We’ll slip off to sleep
Together our hearts will beat
The morning will come
And with breakfast all done
We’ll do the Simmer Dim Waltz
Herding midnight sheep
The hauling peat breaks your back
Blackhouse stares out to sea
In summer there’s no slack
Not closed my eyes since July
It’s been three weeks since I stumbled to sleep
The gods sense weariness
Shadows stir in the deep
Faces turned up to the sky
Need for dreams at an all time high
How long has it been
Must get back to when
The stars are salting the sky
And the moon is hiding her eyes
We’ll step hand in hand
We’ll listen to the band
And do the Simmer Dim Waltz
We’ll slip off to sleep
Together our hearts will beat
The morning will come
And with breakfast all done
We’ll do the Simmer Dim Waltz
Waves stroke the shore
Steady breath of eternity
Clouds cross the sky
Jeweled stars in ebony
The lighthouse braces against the wind
Silver light reaching for the lost
Laced windows, worried eyes
Fearful of the cost
Faces turned up to the sky
Need for dreams at an all time high
How long has it been
Got to get back to when
The stars are salting the sky
And the moon is hiding her eyes
We’ll step hand in hand
We’ll listen to the band
And do the Simmer Dim Waltz
We’ll slip off to sleep
Together our hearts will beat
The morning will come
And with breakfast all done
We’ll do the Simmer Dim Waltz

 

Breathe – poem

Unaware of the obvious lying under a blade of grass
Walking with purpose obscured by intent
Stuck to the vision of a long assumed version of self
It was there all along but passed by without notice
Aggressively ignored making certain all is safe
Oblivious and carefully examined
Obsessed with the acutely insignificant
Measured focus safety harness strapped tight
Calm misery oscillates with a singular line of reasoning
Process of elimination voids completion
Stepping over the reserved
Running under attack of confusion
Cease
Focus on your breath
Listen
Adhere to your core
Wait
Breathe

 

Hickory Dreams – lyric

As we walk
Over head
Cascade of leaves
Hand in hand
The wind
Sweeps away from me
Dappled light
Magic wood
Red and gold
Arc of the stairs
Stacks of stone
Ancient stories told
Hickory memories
Of a childhood past
Hickory dreams
A lifetime will last
Hickory memories
Of a childhood time
Hickory dreams
Follow down the line
Meandering path winding down
The brittle breeze
All but lost back in time
The CCC
Sweet sadness
Spinning ‘round the moon
Helping hand
Headed back to our room
Our cabin in the wood
Down below
Waits for us
Firelight aglow

 

The Spinning Web of Dawn – poem

The spinning-web of dawn
wipes clean the sky’s memory
of unseen spectacle
through the pinprick of perception’s gesture.
The wailing-siren of complacency
makes certain nothing is heard
from the other-world
of dreams and the under-time of then.
Think back down around the back
of many glowing ideas that seemed precise,
that were deemed unreasonable and diffuse
but now are blank and bare.
Softening sound of light passing over faces
looking skyward, asking.
Damp ground supports and pulls at intention.
The looking becomes round and full.

 

You’ll Be Okay – lyric

A boy nine years of age
Slips on a curb slick with snow
Mother’s dreams beginning to fade
Facing a hard row to hoe
Facing a hard row to hoe
Sister’s on the other side of the street
Mother looks on full of weariness
Father’s been gone eight years this week
Daughter’s shows too much experience
Daughter’s shows too much experience
Close your eyes, fly over the fields
Shifting left, shifting right
Out of touch with how you feel
All’s left to do is hang on tight
All’s left to do is hang on tight
Walk away, turn your back
Nothing left to do, no right to say
Ignore things that you lack
Make it over the pass, you’ll be Okay
Make it over the pass, you’ll be Okay
Special order screwed up again
Father’s attention is of no use
Made him crawl plumb out of his skin
When he rolled the second duce
When he rolled the second duce
Lost his wage once again
Nothing to send to the wife and kids
The man said no more money will I lend
Desperation circles what he did
Desperation circles what he did
Close your eyes, fly over the fields
Shifting left, shifting right
Out of touch with how you feel
All’s left to do is hang on tight
All’s left to do is hang on tight
Walk away, turn your back
Nothing left to do, no right to say
Ignore things that you lack
Make it over the pass, you’ll be Okay
Make it over the pass, you’ll be Okay
Looking over the edge far below
The river slips through jagged rocks
Surely there’s another way to go
All he’s got to do is simply stop
All he’s got to do is simply stop
Mother tents fingers at the table
Sister sits alone staring at the sky
Brother hopes he is able
Father turns for home as cars slip by
Father turns for home as cars slip by
Close your eyes, fly over the fields
Shifting left, shifting right
Out of touch with how you feel
All’s left to do is hang on tight
All’s left to do is hang on tight
Walk away, turn your back
Nothing left to do, no right to say
Ignore things that you lack
Make it over the pass, you’ll be Okay
Make it over the pass, you’ll be Okay

 

The Sun Fades Away – poem

The sun fades away
Pulling its light into the sky
Hues of yellow
From the pallet of Van Gogh
Is what we see what we feel
Or is it something that seems
Like the gold that fills the bowl
Of our pipe-dream tonight

 

Clouds Cast Shadows – poem

The clouds cast shadows crawling ‘cross the meadow.
With gentle speed do we heed the chase?
Do we need to waste any more time?
Seems a crime to hold it in.
I was certain it was a place to begin.
A place to begin.