October 08, 2011

missed



where are we
but people on a journey
trying to make sense
where sense may not perhaps enter
this does not make us
any worse or any better
to differ makes for interest
as we hurt and as we laugh
balances of each
we seek our solitude at times
then
i shall simply miss my friend

October 07, 2011

Counting Pennies



One, two, three, four… and so on to fifty. 

A brown paper coin wrap is waiting.  A slight crease folded about one half an inch from its edge.  The paper placed carefully onto an open Encyclopedia Britannica, the crease fold aligned with the gutter between the open pages of the reference book.

Carefully and cautiously, the tarnished copper treasures are tipped upright onto the brown paper wrap, one, two, three, four… and so on to fifty.  Tiny fingers balancing tiny coins, onto brown paper, placed into a reference book, open to a page with a picture and article of a strange place in far off Africa.

We collect these coins with our trick and treating.  Little orange cardboard money boxes secured around our necks by coarse brown string, beacons of charity to the occupants of the houses we yell our Halloween apples to.  Children all over our city are making the same effort, collecting pennies, into little orange boxes.

These boxes come to our house from the schools.  Hundreds of little orange boxes filled with pennies.  For several days four sets of children’s hands and one set of mother’s hands, sit around the dining table spending their evenings wrapping coins.  Counting pennies, while eating candy, wrapping pennies, while reading the pages of the book beneath the wrap.  Reading of Nigeria, and Biafra, and listening to the news of families starving, and children dying.

One, two, three, four… and so on to fifty.  Over and over again.  Eating our candy.  Counting these pennies.  So people in a far off land may have food, and perhaps life.



prescience



wishing…
will not make it so
or so it seems.
prudence…
dictates cautionary
predilection of unknown
or so it seems.
insight…
while useful really
is not so much fun
or so it seems.
forethought…
is over thinking
or so it seems.

for to be surprised by this journey
would provide great hindsight
providing foresight
to those who look to come from behind.

Gratitude


Face stubble burned into the smoky haze
The slate cloud confusion in autumn heavens
Red sky in the morning gives warning
Of tears upon this day
This will once again cause growth
Learned from unlearned to cultivate
The back then the forth
From love seeds are planted
Long ago and again this night
The bounty promise of high yield
Thanks be to all that is thee

October 05, 2011

essence


oh say
can you see
the minds in that eye
the layers that make
the psyche
these things drive body
and, of course soul
such as soul is
to these ends
decisions
to be made
with regret perhaps
with doubt of course
of course the course
to be followed
the decider from within
chooses
to touch self’s soul
to ensure soul’s self
is worthy of touch

brook rlm2011

October 04, 2011

Turtle Journey

Afloat in this amniotic
The life fluid of this planet
The turtle moves
Slowly, with purpose
Aware and wise of all in front
Ignorant, perhaps blissfully
Of all coming from behind

Danger lurks there
The hunters come from behind
Hidden from sight and mind
To possess the creature

Turtle can only retreat into itself
Refuge safe in its shell

Unless removed from life’s water
To be consumed without regard

Only a friend will approach forward
To fertilize these egg gems buried
A connection to mother earth
Yet not all will survive back to the water
And those to live will breed
To bond relationship

Again perhaps again