This page will represent my first foray into the river. Observations and pieces of intent will fill these “stones”.
Gale force wind
drives needles of rain
into my eyes blinding me!
White Christmas a week late,
no great feat for Buffalo.
Temperatures below twenty
with snow aplenty!
Single digit temperatures
frigid toes; freezing
from the knees down.
The world at thirteen
looks a whole lot different
when viewed in degrees
and not years. Ears and nose
and frigid toes be damned!
Stop signs have become obsolete.
It’s no great treat approaching an intersection
and trying to remember who you listed as next of kin!
Hands that hold life close to the heart
can stretch across the miles
to touch with love, comfort and compassion.
Other writers know a writer writes.
Poised for muse to strike; up all night.
A non-writer does not know a writer writes;
for a non-writer writes not!
Wee hours of the morning
possess great magnitude.
Muse awakens as others sleep.
The moon full and brimming
skimming my mind and planting
the seeds of poetic lunar nuance
on the odd chance I wax in its honor.
Some men are islands
set adrift in a sea of tumultuous
disturbances. Do they continue to be drawn under
or strongly swim to float where the water calms?
Morning puts a fresh coat of paint
over the dreary wallpaper of life!
It doesn’t really change much,
but it brightens up the place!
In walking the tightrope that life offers
your balance determines your place.
Either you clear the chasm
or fall flat on your face.
and me in a hot game
of snow-blower hero.
But, here is the reason
it sticks in my craw,
the first snow of the season
just in time for the thaw!
The problem with casting pearls before swine,
is that the swine will bite on just about anything.
I would’ve guessed swine were smarter than that!
Extreme passion lives
in the sound of silence
between deep breaths.
Silence pervades the depth
of a restful sleep, keeping
dreams serene and filling the mind
with every good thought brought to bare.
It is there that I find my comfort.
The flash of a single photograph
is a memory sealed in time.
A moment shared and cherished;
sometimes that’s all that we get.
In a cacophony of chaotic sound
I can focus on a place deep within me,
offering solace and comfort; a place where
noise ceases and the music of a single heartbeat
reminds me that all of life is a symphony
composed by heart and by feeling.
I am reeling with serenity. There’s plenty
to go around. Listen for its sound.
Be it a longing look,
a tender touch,
a serene smile,
or well-spoken word,
what our hearts feel.
A mile between smiles
is closed in connection.
Gone are the yesterdays of disappointment.
And unseen are the tomorrows of great promise.
All we have is this instance to matter. And so we are cursed.
It could be worse. Regret and anticipation have no value.
Our worth is in the living for the love of today.
The colorless sky beckons
crooking her windblown finger.
She wishes to linger until
the spring brings her rest.
The winter of her malcontent
has sent the sun into hiding.
Vegetables steeped in beefy broth,
a much needed wealth of warmth and flavor.
A soup of comfort and contentment meant
to be shared and savored.
Morning peeks under my eyelids
stealing sleep and offering little
but a fresh start. I’m tired
and I haven’t the heart.
Mindlessly minding my muse,
thoughts like cerebral post-its
stuck in disarray. But today,
I peel them off and give them order.
Keeping your wits about you while the walls are crashing in,
surely beats the alternative. Climbing out from under the rubble
would have been more trouble than you would have wanted.
Baby-stepping toward Spring,
destination in sight, but it might take longer.
My stride gets stronger, so I walk on.
The auburn glow of distant memories
placates my soul and has me feeling
that blessings bestowed never leave you;
they only serve to strengthen you
and bless you long after you had relinquished them.
with a proclivity to
squeeze as much life into
as many moments possible.
My life’s story flickers in my mind,
replays of a past held dear and near
the next phase of growth. Aging…
setting the stage for the grand finale.
Conflicted and torn,
worn down by choices made
and these thoughts invade my psyche.
It might be that I’ve reached further
than my arms can stretch to hold a dream.
Adversity forged in love
tempers the heart and strengthens
its metal, shielding and protecting.