Finishing

There are times when I wonder and wait,

What’s going to be the outcome?

What’s going to be my fate?

 

Predisposition of untruths and lies

Sneaking about with no purpose

A poor job for spies.

 

I set out an outline of what it could be.

Time honored, then repeated

Was simple for me to see.

 

Preparation meeting opportunity

Now once and for all.

Just one last time here,

is my final choice, my finishing call.

####

Lexington Mo house

Mother’s Day

I walked by and grabbed the phone.
Just habit on this day.
Then stopped and set it down,
Remembering there wasn’t anything to say.

Several years now passed
With conversations faded and gray.
What once was said, must hold its own,
Blank spaces now appearing for what was mother’s day.

Forsythia blooming in the unusual warmth May 11th 2014
Anchorage, Alaska

Junior Prom

Kim and Ian
East High School Prom
May 3, 2014
Anchorage, Alaska

Stark

Like a breath of fresh air
Replacing the old and stagnant
The discomfort renewed
By excitement of change.

A strength as mighty as a ship
As soft as a leaf
Both parting the matter
To move
In stark contrast.

Starving to death

On a diet of abundance
Lacking the nutrients for need.
Empty calories with busyness,
Fueling a dormant seed.

A food chain of repetition
Masquerading with completion.
Starving to death
From empty emotions
Just waiting to be freed.

A Story…or not

Pages worn at the corners
Random passages left unread.
The book, which was to be the story,
Created a plot only culminating in dread.

The characters in conflict
No resolutions yet to be found.
The background themes of
Repeating refrains
Echoes a lonely sound.

There is no story
If the reader turns away
Culminating in confusion
And sorrow trying to resurrect
A meaningful play.

P.L. 94-142

Child Find
The answer has always been
Child Find

No one

Is bullet proof,
A mother least of all.
Pronouncements
Declarations
False promises etched upon a wall.

Why is it,
While in power
No food is on the tray?
Taking down signs, throwing out pens,
Silencing the voiceless
Without a say.

Hurling anger,
Displaced impotence,
Vicious clutching the illusion
Of control.
The empty gun, the struggle won
And the verdict?

Stupid Me

MaRCH

To a different drummer
One may never understand
The code is not so simple
But may lend a caring hand.

A road with other travelers
On a simultaneous trip
Will appear the same
At different times
’round the bend and hiding in the dip.

Dueling Banjos (HD): http://youtu.be/myhnAZFR1po

William

Or did they call him Bill?
Spoken in the King’s English,
a life of metaphors
With which his coffers to fill.

He had so much to say
We have no need to think for ourselves.
The dregs of humanity
Stood wait and lined upon his dusty  shelf.

Old, now dead,
White men crowd out unique thought.
But, given time, he’ll be replaced
Students never knowing he wrote for naught.

Long distance

Only one

At a time
Acts out the anger
Shoved under the rug
The rest of the time.
Who said, your mother is leaving you
Only leaving the rest of us
Mired.

 

I have no gift of patience

now that time in life is short.

I couldn’t see the way ahead

like a ship without a port.

I didn’t want to wait so long

to finally get a clue.

I really expected more from life

and have high expectations of you.

Changes big and small with

confidence turning the key

will open the lock

to where I’ll grow  and bloom

and see the gifts in store for me.