Lame attempts at poetry, generally written to please myself or as a form of self-prescribed therapy.
The desert sun is hot and white, The sky an azure blue, The wind-blown sand a golden glow, The rocks a rusty hue. The rabbit brush with yellow trim, Accents the silver sage, Green piñons point up towards the sky, Grown massive with great age. The prickly pear with flowers pink, And spiny fruit a purple-red, In starving coyote's hazel eyes, Is better than sliced bread.
No sound escapes this vacant void No light leaks from its space A hiding place of perfect form Devoid of touch and taste Desperate pleas that enter there Return no echo or reply They die in silence, fade away A mute unanswered cry I never meant to make this hole Its silence burns my ears It stops the things that should come out To calm my doubts and fears How do you kill a blackened hole That feeds on all it finds To open up the inner soul And clear a troubled mind So questions voiced to God above Escape to plead their case And answers given back again Can transit through that place
Paint the trees a vibrant red, Or yellow, orange or brown, The signs of summer fade away, And fall sings all around.
Down a dark trail through deep frozen spruce, The lights peering outward bright halos produce, As we crawl over snow that squeaks under our tread, Pushing farther from home into darkness ahead, Breathing smoke as warm vapors freeze and turn white, Tiny crystals suspended in the breath of the night, Collecting on eyebrows and all sorts of hair, The heater flat failing to warm the harsh air, Our mission's a clearing far out in the wood, Some broken equipment that must be made good, So onward we press 'till the work is complete, And fend off the frostbite that threatens our feet.
The dreams of the present viewed in sleep long ago Bear no semblance to what I now see, Wishes fervently made with the best of intent Have passed by and never will be. Looking back through the fog of memories past I know now that the path I have trod, Seeming crookedly bent, twisting this way and that Has been mercifully guided by God. The pitfalls and dangers I couldn't observe Would have swallowed me up in their depths, So wand'ring along the strange course of my life I'm content to let Him guide my steps.
Hateful things in human thought Twisted minds this sin have brought Barking dogs pull at the chain Howling shrieks and moans of pain Mothers weep and infants cry Above the gate - ARBEIT MACHT FREI Shuffling feet of broken hearts Pause for families torn apart Wives and children stripped away Screams and cries that cannot sway One by one sent there and here For some the end is very near While others hear the orders barked For brutal labor they were marked The crack of whips and thud of fist The whimpered hope you're on the list Yet labor's toil halts not the end It just delays the captive's friend Released as smoke to float away To rest in peace 'till judgement day The aircraft's roar makes rain of steel The rumbling tank with squeaking wheel The cannon's bark and tongue of flame Cackling guns no man can tame Hateful shouts dehumanize All morals lost to human eyes Torture, torment, words of hate Pain designed to grind and grate Little children weaponized With vacant stares and hollow eyes Mothers, fathers, infants, kids Thrashed and killed as leader bids Allah's name they shout aloud And purify by purge the town They claim to be his army true Do horrid things no saint could do Hate and malice, selfishness Idols finely shaped and dressed Lure distract and lead away Those who stumble on their way To wanton riot, heinous deeds Anything to feed their greed Shattered lives and broken dreams Whimpered cries and shouted screams Calls for vengeance swift and sure Find neither answer nor the cure These horrid sounds assault the ears Tender hearts sprout monstrous tears But hardened souls cannot be moved Though hell itself their deeds reprove Rumbling, thundering waves of sound O'er the earth reverb, rebound Satan's laugh with mortal voice Cackling glee at human's choice Oh what fools these mortal souls who let me in to take control
Bury me not in the cold an dark earth, Where the roots and worms churn the ground. Rather lay me to rest in the folds of your heart, Where your rarest of treasures are found.
Harry the zoo hippochondriac was a wonderful pain in the butt. The zookeepers all sat and wondered what went on there inside of his nut. He never went out to enjoy the warm sun, and never would venture to swim, play, or run. He'd moan and he'd groan then flop hard in the hay, convinced some zoo patron had bubonic plague. When spring cottonwoods bloomed and sent tufts on the breeze, he was sure that pneumonia was what made him sneeze. Once a blob of dried mud stuck behind his left ear, convinced him he'd cancer and life's ending was near. He would bellow and blow that the flies overhead, Brought pestilence deadly sure to knock him down dead. Any kindly meant checkup by the resident vet, was surely an omen and for days he would fret. So through forty two years he would miserably wait, for the deathly bad illness that would seal his sad fate. 'Till age-ed and slowing he looked back on his days, and realized the joy he'd let pass on the way. Determined to master his time that remained, he rose and went out to soak up the sun's rays. Happy at last to be out in the sun, he started to trot then broke into a run. But his bones and his muscles had grown wasted and thin, his heart had grown weak and beat frailly within. The years of seclusion left him withered and sick, his irrational fears played a horrible trick. He collapsed in a heap landing hard on the ground, frantically looking at the scenes all around. Children were happy the birds singing songs, a light cooling breeze moved white clouds along. The pond's glistening waters were just out of reach, His cousins relaxing stretched out on the beach. He closed his weak eyes knowing now what he'd missed, by letting his worries hold his soul in their fists. His time wasted away life now left him behind, and passed on to others who could happiness find.
Precise to plans I drew myself, To house my future and my past. Space for children, work, and play, Built strongly - made to last. Connected with community, Deep roots and friends abound. Invested in longevity, We'd planned to stick around. The children learned to love this place, We parents did the same. Now plans have changed, and we must go, A pawn in life's harsh game. In packing up and leaving here, I go as duty calls. With heavy heart and misty eyes, To cope where my lot falls.
Middle of nowhere, not a soul is in sight, I'm alone far from help in a terrible fright, Marooned yesterday and all through the night. Weakened and failing, dealt a heavy hard blow, Then a thumping and rumbling rattling low, Creeps through the quiet and steadily grows. Now the feet of a giant appear overhead, With a deafening roar beating down latent dread, Tells me help is at hand, and safety ahead. The jolly green giant called out to assist, Searching the morn' that frost's icy lips kissed, Pararescueman watching ensures nothing's missed. He sees me and motions to show me he knows, Then out of the doorway he rapidly goes, Down a cable to meet me while rotor-wash blows. A rapid assessment - thinks I'm stable and then, He straps me in harness and upwards I spin, While twisting in air I am pulled safely in. Just a minute, no more, and my rescuer's back, From a hover we drop to a zig-zagging track, Dodging through treetops to avoid an attack. Back to safety and comfort and a happier time, Relieved and or'whelmed I wipe tears from my eye, So grateful for giants that fly through the sky.
In case there are any experts out there who want to critique this picture… it isn’t of a rescue operation. The helicopter is from the 210RQS from the Alaska Air National Guard. It is a rescue craft and crew, however in this case it was rigged up to carry a sling-load of batteries and other equipment to a remote instrumentation site in the Alaskan bush – hence no guns on the mount and the exposed cargo hook. Thankfully, I never ended up in a situation where the helicopter had to fight it’s way in.