A Drop Expanded
Everything we doforms the never-ending ring of life
that drops, resonates and expands
through our lives forever.
Changes occur creating new patterns,
choices indelibly marked in time,
ours to mold and regret, or view
with the pride of accomplishment.
Traced through time,
decisions reflect our past deeds
satisfied or saddened.
Destiny is held like that drop of water.
Perception
(For those injured or killed in battle)There are many martyrs
who pass our way,
never acknowledged.
Some of us knew,
and in that perception,
celebrated the merit in their lives.
You knew, and didn’t care
who chanted praise,
it mattered not,
...but...
it mattered.
Braided Memories
Silence, screams a hollow voiceacross limitless seasons,
sketches a mirage in the wind.
Teardrops, fill lonely spaces,
etch salty patterns down the years.
A specter motions
through the mist
as time hesitates,
reveals the music of past joy.
I respond with a sad smile.
Present echoes repeat
a quiet litany of braided words
left unraveled - swallowed
in the depths of despair,
shattered chords a mute memory.
Final Salute
Bugler’s silhouette stands tallin the shade of a weeping willow,
mournfully wails a farewell
for a young man’s service, well done.
Sun gazes down on clipped grass
dotted with the brown of her tears,
joins family and friends in stoic silence,
remembering son and friend - now so still.
I think, how apropos that the willow
weeps along with the mother, a sad reminder
of scenes enacted repeatedly across our land.
The grievous inevitability of war.
Layered Seasons
Shivers slip betweenthe layer of seasons,
steal hoarded warmth
from autumn in a dust
of powdered snow.
Innocent clouds spit
crystals earthward,
a rolling expanse glints
with soft innocence
and sprinkles my lashes
with feathered flakes.
Silence spreads
beneath my feet,
breath hangs in mid-air
marking my passing,
a palette of sepia tones
turned pewter.
Top Of The World
Late daylight castsorange highlights
on blanketed peaks,
skis project
far-reaching shadows
into an emerging world,
beams rake
the snowfield dramatically.
Lit like a fire
glowing in the night,
a mellow warmth
washes over the clouds
and streams through me.
I let my boards run
into the simple beauty
of a dying sun,
my black silhouette
streams away
with careless freedom.
Memory Tricks
(Korean War Reunions)Battle gore is gone,
tamped down
into forgetfulness,
kept in its place
by memory tricks.
We reunite
to remember
the humor in hostility,
a patch over wounds
best hidden.
Our long line
has thinned
to just a few,
eyes not as clear,
stride slower,
emotions stronger.
We clasp each other,
glad to have survived
events we can’t seem
to quite remember.
Published: The Moonwort Review, Winter Issue 2005
Stage production of “Soldier’s Heart”, April 2005, performed at
Lincoln Hall, Portland State University
Daphne Impressions
Leaves curl in on themselves,shudder with the cold.
Icy wraps abandon them
to blacken and shrivel.
They fall, singly at first,
then in a shower,
scattering lifelessly.
Naked buds,
just showing pink,
struggle upward...alone.
Banana breezes caress us
with their earnest attention,
leaving the taste of winter
a vague impression,
except...for those naked buds,
stark reminders
of verdant lushness
only a distant recollection.
Etchings
Painful memories, burieddeep in the subconscious,
slowly surface to poke
and nudge, frighten and fester.
I feel anguish, see
the dead lying in rows,
body bags efficiently
zipped over blank faces,
the light of life
extinguished forever,
oddly sense relief...even joy,
that the face staring up
at me isn’t my own.
Fifty years later,
a name is attached
to my awareness.
Finally, tears course
down my cheeks
for my fallen comrades.
The drops heal the young
soldier from so long ago
and the presently
scarred warrior.
Stage production of “Soldier’s Heart”, April 2005, performed at
Lincoln Hall, Portland State University
Exodus
Woes trigger confusionand fear in young eyes,
speak volumes
of childhood trauma.
Economy once again focuses on the needy,
spills unwanted humanity
across the land.
Increased violence
brings new exodus,
mobs rampage at night
causing security hazards.
The border looms ahead,
refugees mass at the crossing
and sights seen by children
will haunt them forever.
Fall Flight
Long black lines vee southward,my finger follows their flight
as they arrow across the sky
aimed at the horizon
in precise formation.
Warmth seeps slowly;
another balmy season
veers towards winter
on the flutter of wings.
March To Oblivion
(For refugees everywhere)We carry nothing,
have nothing,
expect nothing,
no beginning or end
in the trek to nonexistence,
only constant movement.
One step shuffles, then another,
hopelessness not even
a conscious thought.
Hungry children
follow our pace,
weaken and perish.
Silent shadows
in our minds
grieve their loss,
but escape becomes
our blind purpose.
In the muddle of the deranged,
we advance
towards obscurity.
Nominated IPBS for June, 2003
Published: Aesthetica, A Review of Contemporary Artists, York, UK, Hard Copy, June 2005
Union Of Warriors
(For the Korean veterans of the 5th RCT, US Army)They laugh,
the laughter of young men,
memories bright
with flame and vigor.
Vision has faded,
cheeks are deeply wrinkled,
speech falters
and fingers tremble.
Steps waver
as they plod the earth,
watch the ground
instead of the clouds.
Once warriors,
they were seasoned with fire.
All that remains are recollections
and a few comrades.
Published: Creations of Today, July 18th, 2002
Published: Horsethief Journal, January 2003
Published: Battle Stars’
Published: Tamafyhr Mountain Poetry, July 2005
Stage production of “Soldier’s Heart”, April 2005, performed at
Lincoln Hall, Portland State University
Cowardly Manipulation
Director of destruction,you bend and manipulate lives
like toy soldiers.
Your battle gear shows no tarnish,
chaos conducted on a whim.
Fingers control puppet strings,
blood flows, soaking earth
with fading life.
Hollow eyes view havoc
with lack of expression
or emotion.
Cowardly, hypocritical cant
displays your shame.
Published: Panda Poetry Journal, January 2002
Published, Battle Stars’ Jan-Feb., 2002
Published, Verse Libre Quarterly, Art Gallery, Winter, 2001-2002
Grieving Loss
Brave men, committed to their ideals,plunge their planes into buildings
in Washington and Manhattan,
killing many thousands,
including themselves.
Brave men, committed to their ideals,
plunge a plane into a deserted field
near Philadelphia, carry out
a deliberate action to save lives,
lose their own and die heroes.
All these brave men believed
their cause righteous.
Cowards hide in caves and councils,
direct others to do their evil work
in the name of Allah.
Muslims turn faces away
from men who slaughter in His name.
The world community mourns
the loss of life in the name of God,
Buddha, Allah, all one in their sameness.
A grieving God watches his children
destroy each other and weeps.
Published: Battle Stars’, Jan.-Feb., 2002
Chamber Of Renewal
(The phrase “lest we forget” is from WW2 posters remindingpeople of the Japanese sneak attack of Pearl Harbor)
Red rage echoes
as a heart turns bitter.
My flesh feels
grief and violation;
outrage resounds
through a damaged chamber.
An aria
of anguish
sings in my soul,
stirring sadness,
drains the vitality
from my spirit.
A beam of hope heals,
feeds the heart with renewal.
Strength flows to my core,
I burn with resolve.
Stimulated with energy
I utter, lest we forget.
Published: Battle Stars’, Jan.-Feb., 2002
Manhattan Madness
Mayhem marks the moment,terror strikes the city’s heart,
a nation mourns, outraged,
promises retaliation.
Children cling, fearfully,
parents hold on tenaciously.
Anger, dark and deadly, descends
on a country, crippled emotionally.
Disaster does not destroy,
it stiffens our resolve
to crush the cowardly,
rise and avenge the fallen.
Published: Battle Stars’ Jan.-Feb., 2002
The Veteran
(For all the 5th RCT fallen in battle)The aged veteran looks across
the monument erected there,
brief glimpses of another day
sweep into mind - his soul laid bare.
Conceal the anguish buried deep,
he’s hidden it away so long,
recalls with grief the bitter times
of battles fought and things gone wrong.
He shares this time not willingly,
hurts too deep for him to share.
In his mind a thought for those
who’d not returned - the young - the fair.
Published: Battle Stars’, March-April, 2001
Stage production of “Soldier’s Heart”, April 2005,
Performed at Lincoln Hall, Portland State University
Injustice
War, a product of man’s folly,rapes countries and families,
causes everyone touched
to feel the insanity
of bitter pain.
These young giants
lose their lives for glory,
too young
to have savored living.
A pity to waste so many.
Some die,
some return
and are never the same,
changed forever.
By the graveside,
a mother weeps,
his father rails
against the injustice
of this mad hostility.
Minds and bodies,
marvelous tools,
are snuffed out,
sacrificed for economic gain.
Published: Battle Stars’, July/August 2005
Laughter
Laughter bubbles up,creates a fountain,
overflows with happiness.
It reaches out and touches
the lives of others
like a cool, soothing balm,
appreciation shown
for what life has to offer.
It softens sorrow,
mends anguish,
wipes away regret
for what might have been.
Life is complex and captivates.
Experience, savor,
view it with merriment.
It heals from within.
Published: Sienna’s Poetry Suite, Spring 2001
Published: Le Zine Poetique, May 2003
Weaver’s Dreams
No pattern to this arid landwhere the world blew apart,
a mountain-locked village,
lines of dust colored tents and huts,
steep hillsides all around,
broken lives in a dust bowl.
Explosives hidden in dolls,
children abducted to Russia;
hawk-nosed women,
bright eyes flashing,
gaze with hope at me
and dream of a future
for their children.
I watch, through tears
...guilty...
sensitive to their pain.
Elderly Afghans
stare back, existing
only through their dreams.
Emotionally exhausted,
I view the destruction
of a proud people.
