Noble Delights

Chilly Willy

2011-11-03T20:02:00.004-06:00

Chilly Willy was a goat.
Chilly Willy got a coat,
So Chilly Willy won't be chilly,
Will he?

Genuine Approval

2011-07-26T11:39:00.003-06:00

A smile
And a nod
Tell me my work is accepted,

And my labors are not wasted.

Just Suppose

2011-07-20T14:41:00.008-06:00

Let's just suppose you underwent

A surgical procedure

To make your face exactly like

Your eighth grade science teacher.
Then when you got to class you'd sit

Where everyone could see

So when your teacher walked inside

He'd say "By Jove that's me!"
He'd give your tests the highest grades

No matter what you do

Because he'd get a lousy score

By giving one to you.

Persistent Hope

2011-04-06T19:32:00.000-06:00

Though dark you see the day to be
A brighter day is on its way.
Though dread and fear seem always near
Your true repose is ever close.
Though seem it strange you cannot change
This fact that night gives way to light.

You're It

2010-11-22T14:29:00.000-07:00

Through the garden, up a tree
I’m so fast, you can’t catch me!
In the house and up the stairs,
What! You tagged me? That’s not fair.

Self

2010-11-07T06:32:00.005-07:00

What is in a name?
Or a secret?
But is the secret the truth,
or only an illusion,
set forth to ends with no beginning,
and no purpose?
As leaves fall into a forest with no ears,
they make no sound.
But here is the truth,
that all become wise-
Truth is in the eye of the beholder.

Always, My Sweet

2009-10-15T12:22:00.000-06:00

Butter, oh how thou dost warrant an ode,
For flavors which thou dost preserve.
Always thou hast keep inside mine abode,
But more than that, thou dost deserve.
To treat thee unkindly would be far too rash,
And betrayeth our excellent smarts.
In our land, thy fate is not in the trash,
But rather inside of our hearts.

Fat Ed

2009-06-12T13:09:00.003-06:00

There was a man named Edgar Hill
Who never, ever ate his fill.
Each day his cook would make for him
Whatever menu fit his whim.
For every meal Ed tried to eat
A dozen different kinds of meat.
He munched on pancakes by the stack
Just for an after dinner snack.

Although he stuffed himself with ham,
Then steamy buttered rolls and jam,
Thick waxy meatloaf, melty cheese,
Cold snotty soup that's made from peas,
Big bulging bagels, sticky rice,
Zucchini bread with sugar spice,
With shiny donuts, cherry pie,
And Polish sausages stacked high,

Hot crispy bacon, crusty toast,
With pink and drippy tender roast,
Potatoes, lima beans and lots
Of greasy, salty tater tots
With fatty burgers, chips and bread,
There never was enough for Ed.
They say he could consume a horse!
And once or twice he tried, of course.

This food made Edgar happy, but
It gave him quite a hefty gut.
For Edgar tried to eat so hard
He really was a tub of lard.
He almost weighed a metric ton.
He wouldn’t exercise or run.
He couldn’t move his hulking girth
Without a tremor in the earth.

But once as he was eating steak
He got a massive stomach ache.
His doctor tried advising him:
“You know it’s wiser to be slim.
Your stomach ache is caused by this:
Compressogastro stomasis!
It means your gut is much too tense
And food’s packed in there mighty dense.”

“If food’s stuck in my gut,” thought he
“I’ll fix that problem easily.
I’ll just eat more and force it out
And it should work without a doubt.”
He filled himself again with food,
And I say this not to be rude,
But once his stomach was that loaded,
Edgar swallowed, then exploded.

This Mind We Trust

2009-05-04T07:50:00.001-06:00

This mind we trust,
Oh, that feeble thing.
A painting we create
Fashioned in the image of our own desire.
We sculpt each perception,
With all the time and craft we possess.
This sculpture becomes a gift from God.
If left unopened, it remains as it began:
As a child in reason, and in understanding.
When opened, it can be used and stretched,
And it will grow
To fill its potential,
To compliment the world with enlightenment,
Talent, knowledge, and finally
Faith.

Square

2009-04-26T07:08:00.000-06:00

Wrap
Fold
Wipe
Draw

I slept on patch work.
It wouldn't let go of my head
So without it I left.

I took a walk on balmy feet.
I raced a pamphlet through the door.
It got there first.

There are no more windows where I live
But the sun comes in all the same.
Who pays my rent?

Enough of this.
I want
out.

The Progression

2009-04-17T09:56:00.003-06:00

That which fills the void,
That which needs be understood
Yet cannot be defined,
Give it glory.
Let praise its justice work
Until it is decorated with a thousand compliments,
Glittering in the limelight like mail.
Obscurity does them no justice,
These flowers of the cave.
Try to accompany them, if you can.
You add to their height
As much as any other of their shadows.
But the pressure of pain can impede their proposal:
The progress of all save but a few.
Greater than these may have fallen.
The mystery that vexes the ages is this:
Will greater rise up?

i

2009-04-02T07:54:00.002-06:00

Of all the letters in the world
my favorite is the letter i.
I like the things that i can do;
i can do much more than u.

The Sweet Remorse of Pity

2009-03-16T19:55:00.001-06:00

The herald of the dying crow
Announces all deserving woe
But long, long afterward the crowd remains
To hear the herald speak the woes again.

Until at last the glutted crowd
Complains the dirge too sad and loud.
They dig the wretched remnants from the ground
And set their frame on strings to dance around.

The crowd thinks nothing of the show
But cries the louder should it go.
They place the fetid thing in sheltered frame
And proudly pass to marvel whence it came.

They hide their conscious shame of grief
In epitaphs on gilded leaf.
Their empathies all twitch in final bow,
The last effect to crease a wrinkled brow.

On First Walking Through the US Botanic Garden

2009-03-09T07:57:00.005-06:00

Condensing brilliance here anoints
The symbols of the dawn of time
Where earth embraces sky with liquid flame.

A calico display of time
Exists unknowing and unknown.
The crisping crust of words drips off like so much rain.

A lair of wealth, a stream of light—
A sleepless dream of lighted shade—
Sweet water trickles softly in its veins.

The solace of the heart and mind
Steeped deep in undiscovered mists
A thriving force where none was made to be.

The youth of man so manifest
In wandering where we cannot go.
The sharpest thoughts are tickled to submissive glee.

A mystery of grand design
Evolves in thriving nourishment,
The end of all to simple say: I see.

Fluid Inspiration

2009-03-03T17:44:00.001-07:00

A misty whim distills on dust of destiny,
Condensing into drizzling downpours of desire.
Amassed on vital earth, it gathers into dreams—
A stream of vision mirroring tomorrow's light.
Its softly flowing course is simply swept aside
By foolish envying, relentless lethargy,
A coward's satisfaction or distracted will.
However, left unhindered, nature's native course
Provides a path of pleasantly torrential turns
Cascading ever onward into swelling peace.

Sunset

2009-02-26T13:33:00.002-07:00

At twilight hour the sun lays down to rest
    And breathes a colorful relaxing sigh.
He thus emits a palate to the west
    As orange atmosphere consumes the sky.
The clouds give up there hues of white and grey
    And turn a charming pink.
A velvet lining adds to their array
    As daylight further sinks.
Producing so surreal a light
The sun, descending out of sight,
    At last recedes
    And then concedes
To the night.

Withering Words

2009-02-15T15:24:00.004-07:00

They rudely rip the hairs from off the head,
Sanguineous perspiration dapples red.
The cure becomes a sting and nothing else.
Without this sting a tender hotness swells,
Refusing touch, a raw malignancy
Tenfold the product of its injury.

The Individual

2009-02-09T13:31:00.000-07:00

All across reality people are swaying
to a song and a beat that nobody’s playing.
Along for the ride is a man who’s not paying
it any attention.

A Safe Place

2009-02-02T19:58:00.005-07:00

I’ve crossed the threshold into a dark room
Where I no longer feel safe.
A looming danger standing imposingly before me
Is my destination.
What nightmares spawn themselves there?

I swiftly run towards it.
To do otherwise would certainly cause my destruction.
Foreboding shapeless threats
Make their first attack on my imagination.
Evil intentions stab at my feet,
But I have arrived
And now my feet are safe.
Darkness tries to crush my chest
But it is now safe.
Tiny potent creepers try to poison my head
But they cannot reach me.

I am safe beneath a securing blanket.
This reckless safety so consoles me
That finally consciousness melts
Into comforting sleep.

A Warm Wind

2009-02-02T19:57:00.001-07:00

I expect to be chilled
But instead I am thrilled.

The Peach Tree

2009-01-27T11:16:00.003-07:00

In summers past, I wandered free.
One day I chanced to see a tree
Who spoke and started asking me
Some things I couldn’t answer.
He asked me why the earth is round
And where the rarest diamond’s found
And what’s the spider monkey’s sound
And what’s the cure for cancer?

I thought and then began to say
“Who cares about this anyway?
I don’t have time to stay all day
I really should be going.”
The tree looked down and then replied
“For many years now I have tried
To find someone who has inside
Some things that are worth knowing.”

I thought again and said to him
“You know, I’m really not that dim!
You’re asking questions on a whim.
I want to know your reason.”
He quietly began to sigh
Then said “This is the reason why
It really makes me want to cry
Whenever I’m in season.”

I asked him what he meant and then
He started talking yet again
“The only time I’m used is when
You people want my peaches.
I’m really good for more, you know.
I always want the chance to show
My aptitude to think and grow
And give inspiring speeches.”

He said that word and then I knew
The very thing I had to do
And so I got a saw and glue
And fashioned my creation.
I cut the tree down, then I took
The wood and with it made a book,
An then a podium, and look!
An utter innovation!

The book sits on his stand, you see
And rests there very pleasantly
Inside a university
With people always near him.
The book gives lectures twice a day
And speaks so well you have to pay.
At last the old tree got his way
And people always hear him.

Change

2009-01-25T15:47:00.003-07:00

At night I feared to see the day
Because I knew what sunset meant,
And yet I found another way.
I feared the moon would ever stay
Ev'n when the twilight hours were spent;
At night I feared to see the day.
The shadows would not go away,
Confounding me where e'er I went
And yet I found another way.
I clung to well-known shadows gray
In case they fled the sun's advent.
At night I feared to see the day.
The morning light be me obey
But I resisted to relent,
And yet I found another way.
But when the sun dawned bright and gay
I found I'd gone where God had sent.
At night I feared to see the day,
And yet I found another way.

Simplicity

2009-01-21T07:41:00.005-07:00

Isn't it great?

Meditations on a Winter Night

2009-01-12T14:43:00.006-07:00

At the foot of a mount in a cabin of log
Lives a hunter, his wife, and an old, droopy dog.
Every evening or so they sit down by the fire
And they listen to tales from the world’s biggest liar.
Now this hunter, you see, he loves spinning a yarn
From the tip of the mount to the top of his barn.
And when he starts a-tellin' those tales that he tells
You can bet there's a stench that the old doggy smells.
It’s the smell of a liar, mark my words, 'cause it’s true.
If you lied bad as that, he'd be smellin' you too!
One cold night as they sat near the fire, big and warm
The house rattled and shook from an oncoming storm.
"Oh my land!" cried his wife as outside the wind blew,
"If this blizzard keeps up, I'm afraid that we're through!"
“No we ain’t!” said the hunter, not seeming to care.
“I survived a worse storm once while fightin' a bear!"
"It began,” he began, “when I hunted this deer,
Then it started to snow, the first time of the year.
I lost track of the deer on account of that snow.
There were flakes big as fists, then they started to grow
Till the biggest one almost knocked over a tree,
But then not even that one could knock over me!
It was cold, I remember, much colder than now,
So I thought it was best I got warmer somehow
And I picked up some sticks, then as fast as I could
Made a bonfire so big it lit most of the wood.
Since I wanted some fish and the lake was all froze,
I broke ice with my feet and caught fish with my toes.
Then I cut down some trees and as quick as a lick,
I constructed a cabin all sturdy and thick.
When I’d finished the last touching up on the place,
This enormous and fierce polar bear hit my face.
Well, I guess that big bear he was fixin' to steal
All them fish I’d caught earlier to eat for my meal
Because bears, as you know, they like eatin' fish too
So we wrestled and rolled and the storm howled and blew.
I took care of that bear, boy I took him to town.
Wasn’t long, I recall, till I had that bear down.
He was screamin' for mercy so I let him go
But he said to me ‘Boy, it’s real cold in the snow.
Once I looked at that fire, well, I thought it was swell
And I thought to myself I might sit for a spell.’
I felt bad for the bear, so I said it’s all right
If he came in and stayed by the fire for the night.
In the morning I told him that next time it snowed,
He could come spend the night at my humble abode.”
So he ended his tale and his wife shook her head.
"I think that's the worst lie ever uttered!" she said.
“When I think you’re done fibbing, you say something new.”
“But this one,” he protested, “is utterly true!”
And just then from the door came a big booming knock,
So his wife went up to it and undid the lock
And the doorway was filled with a white, husky bear.
“Can I please come inside?” he asked. “It’s cold out there!”

The Misunderstood

2009-01-11T18:51:00.003-07:00

A song that meets the ears is oft bereft
Of meaning its creation should have brought.
By fate or fortune, what we hear is left
Fragmented—far removed from native thought.
Then music heard can often be untrue
To thoughts inspiring, left inside the mind.
An artist needs divide between the two,
Whether to show the sounds left unrefined.
Concealing thoughts that might expose the heart,
A song devised may hold in secrecy
The sacred inner truth, the hidden part
That shrouds itself in sleep and subtlety.
And yet, when played aloud, each song retains
A tune that only he who listens hears.
Perhaps from this a newer theme remains:
A matchless melody for list’ning ears.

Choice

2009-01-07T11:55:00.004-07:00

The enormity of the future
Sacrifices nothing of its potential
So long as the soul is just.
The chains of choice yield freedom
To those who follow visions
From the surface of their souls,
The very place where Hope distills.

Sight Inside

2009-01-06T13:09:00.005-07:00

Inward and onward
Deeper and hopeful
Forceful
Waiting inside to be found.
Insightful but trite,
Wary and
Wayward it creeps without sleeping
But always intriguing yet pleading
Away from the force that supplies it with
Life and enjoyment and pure satisfaction.
It’s span is away from the
Scale that’s expected,
And yet we accept it.
For what is it there?
Do we see it or sense it inside?
Does it hide?
Can we tell,
Or wait for the test to begin
From within?
Deeper and darker it lurks
And waits for the light
To chase it away.
Why does it wait,
And what is its purpose?
The mind can’t define nor divine such a purpose.
Enveloping warmth can intrude.
Now excluded, the fact it was there
Is forgotten. The mark it once made
Will fade.
Inside its lost presence
Intrudes like a menace,
Invades and
Waits
To be filled
Once more.

Twenty Eyes and Twenty Ears

2008-02-07T16:22:00.002-07:00

Twenty eyes and twenty ears
Watch my footsteps as I make them
Wait to see if I mistake them.
They have followed me for years.
Thirty ears and thirty eyes;
They, I see, are all around me,
Always trying to confound me.
They my purposes disguise.
Forty eyes are watching me,
Seeing what I’m doing always,
Limiting my thought in small ways.
In their bondage am I free?
Fifty eyes and fifty more
Take my words and scrutinize them,
Change my thoughts so I despise them
Still I claim them as before.
Sixty eyes are in my mind.
Always they have been inside me,
Watching those who walk beside me.
Have I always been so blind?

Inspired by the book 1984.

The Flower

2008-02-01T13:09:00.001-07:00

A flower on the roadside lay
Its petals to the sky.
I would have passed and let it stay
For time was short that summer day.
I stopped and held it anyway
Yet did not know the reason why.

Against the backdrop of the road,
It grew defiantly.
Where here, so out of place, it showed
That life can thrive and make abode
Where wind and rain and snow erode
The place where it was set to be.

I pondered on that flower rare
With time I didn’t own,
And thoughtfully began to stare
Upon the flower lying there
While wond’ring how a thing so fair
Had on that dirty roadside grown.

I went along the road to see
If other flowers grew.
Beside that road, it seemed to me
That weeds grew up quite readily.
Of flowers I saw but two or three
And wondered why there were so few.

I took one with me as I went
Preserving it with care.
I held it as a monument
To lessons learned and time well spent.
That evening by my bed I bent
And thanked the power that put them there.

The Artist

2008-01-11T11:28:00.000-07:00

It is simple to see,
to cast one’s eyes where he may.
Who, then can tell
what there is to see?
Greatness falls from the sky like snow,
and it goes unnoticed.
Imagination,
how fickle it is,
how commanding!
Do we notice that
we
have that power?
And control it?
It is our power of
creation
that we see and use.
How few there are
who can truly see themselves.
Who can see the power
of Vision
besides those who look?

Come Inside

2008-01-03T12:36:00.000-07:00

Come inside now, to my table
Though I’ve nothing to prepare
Know you well that were I able
I would fill this empty table,
Which sits now before you bare.
Here inside my house the laughter
Never is in short supply.
Let the banter touch the rafter!
In our friendship and our laughter
Truly does our richness lie.
As we sit beside the fire
In each other’s company
All our troubles seem less dire.
To the heavens we aspire
While the hours pass pleasantly.

A Walk Outside

2007-12-27T10:53:00.000-07:00

In restlessness I sit inside my house
With energy infused inside my bones
Exhorting me to let my labors wait
And breathe the freshness of the outside air.

An Evergreen in Snow

2007-12-22T19:04:00.000-07:00

A starry blur of white undaunted came
And softened, smoothed the gentle countryside.
Creation marvels at her own white flame,
Her appetite for beauty satisfied.
Below a hill, serenely standing strong,
An evergreen, concealed beneath the white
Now emanates a silent winter song
And dances in the evening's waning light.
Enveloped by a soft consuming glow,
The glittering boughs portray a mood serene.
Though laden low with weight of thickset snow,
It stands a noble marvel to be seen.
The Master's sculpture breaks above the ground,
With all of winter's glory it is crowned.

Messy Pete

2007-12-22T13:18:00.001-07:00

Messy Pete began to eat
A dusty, dirty grimy treat.
He found too late that what he ate
Was also on a dirty plate.
It was a mess; I must confess
His room was filled with dirtiness.
What caused this scene that’s so obscene
Was Messy Pete would never clean.
He’d never try to clean that sty.
His dirty clothes all piled high.
His underwear was here and there.
His toys were scattered everywhere.
He had a knack for losing track
Of where he’d left his school sack.
I’ll tell you now the story how
Pete overcame the mess somehow.
It was the treat which Messy Pete
Decided that he’d try to eat.
Just one small lick so very quick
Began to make him awfully sick.
So sick, in fact he coughed and hacked
So hard his jaw bone almost cracked.
His fever burned and then he turned
So green his mom became concerned.
He lay in bed, his father said
“You’re lucky, son, that you’re not dead.
The doctor called and he’s appalled
He says your mess here must be solved.
If you don’t zoom to clean your room
It could spell out your sudden doom!”
Pete was aware as he lay there
His room was filled with odors rare.
“This mess,” thought he, “is killing me.
If I get better I’ll agree
To be the best, above the rest
At making cleanliness my quest.”
He hadn’t lied. From then he tried
To clean his room with certain pride.
And what completes this tale of Pete’s?
He’ll wash his hands before he eats.

A R T

2007-12-22T12:48:00.000-07:00

How is life explored by stories,
Quietly composed in books?
Why do poems give enjoyment
To the one who deeply looks?
Even words of tiny size
Oft show virtues to the wise.

When we gaze upon a painting,
Oft a voice speaks to the soul.
Paint and canvas, both displaying
Semblance of things physical.
We, the subjects in them, see
Life laid out exquisitely.

Why, when soundlessness is conquered,
Filled by noise of symphonies,
Are our senses seized by grandeur
Of pervasive melodies?
Music is a jewel of sound
Which explorers keep when found.

Addicted to Poetry

2007-12-22T12:36:00.004-07:00

Poetry is an odd thing.
Sometimes it has no verse,
With no rhythm,
And no meter,
And flows much like prose.
It may, however, have artistic beats,
A pattern followed with deliberate care
Composed of meter, cadence, beat or swing,
With lengthy sentences and careful thought.
And poems, sometimes,
Are peppered with rhymes.
And as the fruit in fall adorns the trees,
A poem may be filled with similes.
Or else the fruit of purpose from its core
Can plant in poems the seed of metaphor.
Moreover a couplet in deep contemplation
Can banter around with personification.
But the best part of poems, obviously,
Is when you include a hyperbole.
Alternatively, alliteration also adds appeal.
In the end it all combines,
Every aspect in its place.
This conglomerate of lines,
In amenity and grace,
Most effectively invokes
Such a thrill inside my brain.
Fire of fantasy it stokes
'Till delight I can't contain.
In a word (or maybe three):
I
Love
Poetry

The Last of Effects

2007-12-22T11:05:00.001-07:00

So often one can assume
that the world is not
In the palm of his hand.
To become as we must,
that we cannot see
the End of the path,
and to see is to
become
and in Becoming, the
last of effects
reaches out to empty paws,
and the vacant wanderings
of a mindless crowd.

This is the path
doomed to become
that which is the pastime of
those who cannot become
that which they desire.
Overcoming the last of effects
is the goal of those who are destined to fail.
Forgotten roads lead to
a destination even longer removed,
and life causes
the last of effects.