Way back in the dark ages when I was single and in college, I seriously contemplated spending the time and money required to get my private pilots’ license. I even went so far as to get a few hours behind the controls of a Cessna 182. It was enough to convince me I would love it and that I couldn’t afford to maintain it as a hobby if I was ever going to have a family. I gave up my quest before my first “solo” flight. I was disappointed, but accepted my fate with magnanimity; knowing that my first solo … Read the rest
All posts by Peter
Burden
The truth will set you free they say, Give you strength and show the way. Help you stand when threats come strong, Make clear the route to carry on. Sometimes it's true that truth is kind, Healing hands and heart and mind. But all too oft it carries weight, Truths that grind, and crush, and grate. A knowledge of a harsher sort, Breaks through to light, a sharp retort. The darkened hearts that plot and plan, To hurt, oppress, and exploit man. Patterns followed o'er again, Truth and right now labeled sin. Done before, the outcome's clear, But boldly on,… Read the rest
Company Man
While much of the poetry that I write is deeply personal, this one stems from an experience I had helping a friend and colleague through the collapse and beginnings of reconstructing his marriage.
Twenty years he towed the line, In the lead or just behind, Purpose bent to meet his task, Ever solid, firm, steadfast. Many nights would find him still, At his work for hours 'till, Exhaustion bid him pause a while, Then homeward trudge without a smile. Daybreak bids him e'er again, Drawn as moth to candle's flame, Weary eyes in a care-worn face, Search for meaning in… Read the rest
Monumental
Large even from an airplane window seen, sixty miles away. Built to send people where nobody's been, the vacuum of space. Buses could park on the stripes of the flag, if it laid down. A symbol of pride, a nation's great brag, look what we did. Here they built monsters of metal and flame, they tore at the air. Hyperbole claimed we would conquer and tame, the vastness of space. Pushing man and machine to limits then past, They risked all to explore. Lionized pilots who flew fearless and fast, some died on the way. The men are gone -… Read the rest
Mulch, Christmas and the Jump-o-leen
For years I’ve been trying to convince Liz to let me “sleep in” until eight or nine on Christmas morning. Liz, however, is firmly in the camp of the early Christmas risers. I don’t think she ever once has allowed me to stay in bed past six thirty, even before we had kids. Since we’ve had the kids, she’s even developed a habit of waking them up because they have the audacity to sleep in. What kind of holiday is it when you have to stay up late the night before shrouding trinkets in ridiculously patterned paper only to wake … Read the rest
Will I ever learn?
A few months ago a friend was having car trouble. She was broken down on the side of the road, and her husband was at work in town and couldn’t get there to rescue her any time soon. She called Liz who went to pick her up. That’s where I got involved.
Her husband is mechanically inclined and experienced with minor repairs and routine maintenance, but he hasn’t done a lot of troubleshooting of major failures. He had spent two days doing what he could, trying to figure out what was wrong and get their car back on the road. … Read the rest
Fireants
Countless small sparks in a maze of maneuver Like flickering flames buried deep in the dark Shimmering, shifting, and boiling below Less venomous than fire ants I've known; At least from a distance. Much prettier too; From a distance.
Warnings
We must be warned that coffee's hot, that smoking hurts the lung. Knives are sharp and spoons are not, and sunscreen blocks the sun. We must not eat the non-food pack, that freshens packaged foods. Know calories might make us fat, and sleep might make us drool. Labels warn that water's wet, and bullets might go bang. Signs to warn of dangers met, adorn each mundane thing. We used to use our eyes and think, to see, assess, then act. Replaced with warnings bold in ink, a talisman of words and fact.
Heavy
A million years of sand and rain made me who I am Built up, compressed, washed clean and worn down. Rusty red, sandy blond, and streaked with black. I defy the elements openly as an acrobat would For Newton pulls heavy on my ancient spine. Yet I arch high overhead triumphant and grand Shade from a withering sun for strangers below.
Speculation
If only people understood how un-cool secret stuff really is… Scott Adams came close in this strip:
The super secret squirrels convened Their meeting in the vault Each day at noon they gathered there Discussing who knows what The watchers all looked in from out As blind and dumb and deaf As though they had no mouth or ears To use for baited breath Whispers swirled from left to right Then back around again Tales of conquests in the works Cabals of greed and sin Murmurings of secret tech Sensors, planes, and tools Laser guns and mind control Oh man...… Read the rest