Magic Dog…

He stares without making a sound, patience comes easy to him

as the bottom of the bowl reflects back his likeness.

Barking to make known this shortcoming never made sense,

instead he prefers to perform feats of magic.

History has taught him by assuming such a posture

that soon the bowl will be mysteriously filled.

Once again he does the impossible, such is the life of a wizard.

This dog never worries about the little stuff.

He has me trained well.

Flowers and Dreams…

Today I sent her flowers.

Not to remember a certain date or because she was blue.

Instead I found myself starring off into space considering

her smile, her heart, her humor, and her gentleness.

The gift of love surrenders to moments of frozen thought,

grateful for the life created from a chance encounter.

Being reminded in a busy world, she is valued.

For that reason I sent a basket of colors,

to enhance the beauty of any room she enters.

I felt like she should know my thinking.

Reminding self to not let moments of forever pass unnoticed.

A Fathers Love…

Born to a slight frame, dreams oversized to my reality.

A game played by boys to show their toughness.

The pigskin tossed to a toddler hoping to create desire,

that I would become all he wasn’t.

Allowed to suit up but seldom chosen to play,

participation became a medal of success.

Now a young man, wear the school jersey a must I’m told,

it’s your time to be the star.

Confused, they’re asking me to play?

Hearing my name as we enter the field, another’s dream comes true.

A mouthful of blood and dirt covering my backside,

a mistake was made in my choosing.

Soon practice is filled with yells and a slap to the head,

toughen up and be a man.

When motivation fails, the challenger punches my mouth,

again blood flows from the lip as I fight the urge to cry.

Home finds no respite as the man thinks I’m weak,

breaks me down to the ground, get up and fight, be tough.

Accepting my limits not seen by the man,

knowing I’ll never be the dream fulfilled.

I have but one place to escape the torture,

not knowing how to cope.

Finding a willing friend in a weed who teaches me to say.

Fuck it.

The man I’ve become is not part of the plan, yet I’m alive,

numb and alone, but feeling no more pain.

On becoming a man.

Thanksgiving…

Feasting on the glorious bird browned to a golden hue.

Vegetables aplenty, proudly standing alone or disguised in casseroles,

pies of every stripe fighting for room on the edge of the counter.

Splendor of days of preparation, vanquished way too quickly.

Soon after while the dishes are cleaned, the television begins to blare.

Football and Thanksgiving, a perfect pair.

Slumber comes as overeating provides its consequence,

lounging in padded chairs, the game loses its value.

Thanksgiving…a day designed for gluttony and indulgence.

Festive Holidays.

Pricked with guilt while consuming such quantities as I consider those without.

Does Thanksgiving really make them thankful,

as they search means to feed their hungry child?

Thanksgiving means community, even if I should have less.

That I would be thankful for.

It begins with me.

Monday Morning Rain…

The peaceful percussion plays upon my roof

bringing much needed tranquility.

Leaves wash away down the driveway

racing to an imagined finish line.

Windows now offering a distorted view of

the cold, wet outdoors.

The glass panes changing like a series of black and white kaleidoscopes,

as the waters trickle downward.

Monday morning rain you slow me to a crawl

and offer a challenge to consider your marvel.

Bringing life and clearing the old, all in one falling action.

The wonder of nature on a cloudy day.

Life of the Party…

Celebrating is today’s theme, party with friends and family,

all with one thought in mind.

Love for the redhead, eleven years of joy.

A mind busy with so much information desperately needing to share.

Roomful of dolls that foster creativity and gentleness, her constant companions.

On that special day mom couldn’t wait for you to make your arrival,

as the doctors said “no hurry.”

The smile appeared before your little eyes opened,

and hasn’t left you since.

Happy Birthday little one.

Raven Haired Encounter…

 

Black hair bouncing with each step, joyfully announcing her presence,
a smile that gave pause, exuberance flowed freely from her tongue.
This I remember the day I met my daughter.
A child composed of equal parts determination and sweetness,
one who would make the job of a parent so simple.
Compassion drives her, injustice compels her…
This young woman living a life of excellence, good decisions float in her wake.
I see the kindness and strength meshed out and the attraction of her life
desired by so many…a magnet of welcome.
Don’t be fooled by the gentle eyes and calm tone,
this tiger is not to be tangled, unless one seeks to loose.
Watch her go…
And stay the Hell out of her way.

Evolving Lotus…

Remembering a time when life was simple,

cares were unanswered and the moment ruled.

The blossom of enchantment and the heart beating so loudly.

Now to watch as a child comes to love,

her voice filled with splendor…her dreams alive and vibrant.

Hope laid forth, imagination with solid footing,

desires of two becoming one.

Happiness grabs her with a strong embrace,

a newly formed constant friend.

Watching from afar as the petals open,

revealing beauty in its pastels of calm.

A living portrait conceived by one with so much kindness.

Glory Days…

The days of fast breaks, floating jump shots, and deft slides past defenders

are but a faint memory.

Experiencing the rush of sailing through the air while others fight to contain,

grabbing the errant shot with sweeping upward scoops.

Feeling of the ball bouncing ever so gently against my hand,

while defenders looked overwhelmed at what was next.

A game played since very young, a mantle of minor fame.

After a half century of wear, approaching the gym is a nasty tease,

daring me to enter, knowing my failure awaits.

The taunts bellow in my head.  You can still do this I hear.

Young, lean, tall, flat bellies run amok about the court, the smack easily heard over

new shoes squeaking and the thumping of balls on the court.

Who wants the old guy, no you take him…like the last kid picked at kickball,

is this who I’ve become?

The first sprint down the court reveals a problem that can’t wait,

Why can’t I can’t breathe?

I dribble toward this young buck so confident of himself, so unaware of my past,

prepared to teach this punk a lesson.

This day will not end well to relive past glories,

the sad reality of truth sets it’s teeth firmly.

Maybe this is a game better watched from a lazy boy.

At least my dog thinks I’m still awesome.

Candy Cane Hair…

 

The wheels keep spinning taking her nowhere fast,

the trench grows ever larger.

So much promise to color a drab world just waiting

to be splashed about.

Rainbows and fall leaves meant to be seen not just discussed.

A life kept under wraps.

Life beckons your prized narrative,

jump the fence and run.

Don’t slow down, never stop…

Become.

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