LIFE GOESON......

Life Goeson

Much like the colors that live in dreams

lineage is reflected on the windows of life

Successions of wild flowers blossom

each firmly wrapped in moments of wonder

Our exploding thoughts flash unexpectedly

and light up forgotten mind recesses

where happy times await revelation

in the path of pleasure travelled

Then, with crystal clear vision

future times appear in vivid dreams

pure as life just born

that blooms in the glow of Summer light

and flourish with much eagerness

as reality becomes individual memories

Life beyond the shadow of a doubt

Ancestral presence is felt on breeze

trapped in translucent spectral mist 

they revel at the sound of a new heart beating

and a perpetual delight engulfs them

Continuation is the hope ever present

alive in the hearts mingling on earth

enveloped in lusty earthly rites

pursued on the silky paths of pleasure

with expectations of continuity 

Embodied in memories of the past

Where today was our ancestry's tomorrow

and our tomorrows exist in our lineal anticipation

Henry Oliver....

HENRY OLIVER

The song of our ancestors

lives in Henry Oliver

Our benediction upon this son and grandchild

He sports a wrinkled smile

and with hidden temperament in eyes partly open

excites us all with his beauty unspoken

His joyful utterances, it seems

Fulfill our fervent dreams

with innocence, he nurses in hunger fits

and bubbles up happy spit

His tiny fingers strum chords unheard

seeking to touch his new world

He sounds a timorous tune

that fills our minds love pool

and brings visions of future times

on the path that life defines

I clearly hear the distant melody

of happiness and life continuity

where I'll gently hold his hand

walking the shaded path in woodland

Or maybe, just sit on a sun-kissed hill

where time will appear to stand still

and watch him grow for fun

Henry Oliver, my grandson

Irony.....

IRONY

The greatest of our artists

are deemed touched by insanity

Humans are the most admirable of creatures

and also, the most disgusting

Our pleasures always justify themselves

but an excess is considered sinful

We are a child but once

Then, curiosity, wantonness and purity

are replaced by life experiences

Our spontaneity replaced by rituals

in our daily lives spent in comfort

The joy of denial in the virgin

replaced by the delight of its loss

the fulfillment of saying, yes, yes, yes

that erase years of saying no

Original sin confirmed upon a new baby

the most innocent of all creatures

Fleeting fame confirmed by outside forces

feeding the self-regard of the famous

The most excellent sensation of winning

at the sorrowful expense of the defeated

Beautiful and handsome people

reflected in the opinions of others

If humanity was deaf and blind

what would ugliness mean

It's always in the depths of Winter 

that Summer is most appealing

The most gifted composer is negated

By his tone deaf audience

The colors of the rainbow are wasted

in the land of the color blind

The awesomeness of the written word

lost on those who cannot read

HOSTAGE...

Hostage

For souls stranded upon our earth

wanting to bring about personal desires

For those sentenced to life by birth

there exists much hope in loves fires

Fulfillment found in blue haze, you understand

only buries your lucid moments

Unlike the plant, you will not rise and stand

as rooted defeat prevents upward movement

You are grounded in treacherous fields

unable to reach up to Heavens blue sea

You linger in subdued sunlight sealed

that chokes your life's destiny

You are condemned and buffeted

by social winds in stagnant fields

just existing in life's pastures unfed

as you await the scythes slashing steel

With shining hope, everything changes indeed

You are an uncommon spiritual creation

and hope elevates you above the lowly weed

Your soulful dreams and aspirations

Must challenge the boundaries of desire

and become that special light

that captures the gaze of spectators

looking upon the landscape of your hostage life

MIND ROSE....

Mind Rose

I'd like to paint a most beautiful rose

on mind canvas with my prose

Brown cardboard in mind would be too coarse

and silken material too slippery a source

My shirt of cotton would suffice

of this I would not think twice

As this common fabric of mind

is like the daily weave worn by mankind

Like flesh ready to adsorb daily reality

painted in colorful world symphony

those shaded blues and bright yellows seen

are easily combined to create summer green

Although, my excellent rose observed in poetry

would seek the crimson of life you see

that life giving fluid coursing through all

feeding the body and brain, always on call

To release it and give birth anew

I must slice a vein and slowly drip dark blue

or cut the pulsing artery instead 

and paint with bright blood red

 my masterpiece on cotton weave drawn

would pleasantly stain the morning dawn

Blinding all who gaze upon my rose

Painted by the brightest red of prose

Snowshoeing.......

Snowshoeing

My feet sink in pillow-like snow

Ice crystals dance in frigid air

'Tis a stimulating natural show

as I happily sojourn there

In the winter woods quiet and still

long on beauty, short of day

tree shadows paint the sides of hills

their fallen leaves on snow decay

The trail is crisscrossed by light and dark

as slanted sunbeams mark the way

my snowshoed steps on the trail stark

reverberate among tall pines today

A babbling brook crosses my path

beneath an austere log structure

its muted symphony gurgling between ice cracks

amplifying the majesty of wintry nature

Around the bend, mystery leads the way

as a soft breeze stirs pine branches

and a falling puff of snow slowly strays

drifting into the moment it enhances

Then, with quick strides over rocks askew

I leave behind me stately pine grandeur

reaching the summit under skies of cerulean blue

and marvel at breathtaking Adirondack splendor