Remembering Childhood Memorial Days

I remember as a young boy loving Memorial Day
because of the small parade in our town Martins Ferry
honoring those who died serving our country, and
the family picnic when family members usually at war with each other came together, and
how the holiday symbolized school would soon be out for the summer, and
how the sun lingered and dallied much longer
allowing us to play early and late in the day, and
how we felt eternal like childhood was forever

Chasing Cosmic Butterflies

The chase begins the moment we enter this world, and
it continues till our last breath
Toltec wisdom says life is a dream, and
we are all walking mirrors—
Everything we think and feel is reflected back to us
through the great dream mirror of life

Some dreams are bigger than others, and
our biggest dream is who we think we are, which
contains all other dreams, visions, fantasies,
and life goals we chase through life
I believe the chase is born into us, and
so are the cosmic butterflies we chase

The ego is a giant volcano, spewing millions of cosmic butterflies
that fill our lives, giving us more and more things to chase
Making us believe we are getting somewhere, and
that we are becoming somebody, but
it’s all one big dream mirror, playing tricks on us
making us believe that the cosmic butterflies are real

Some break out of the dream, but
not without breaking the mirror
Most continue to chase their cosmic butterflies
even the special butterfly that chases away all the other butterflies
making us believe he is the only real butterfly we need to chase
The only way out is to break the mirror

From my new poetry book entitled Chasing Cosmic Butterflies. Check out a copy here.

Life Slips By

 

One hot and humid July morning in ‘69
Army green duffle bag in tow
I said goodbye at the Wheeling bus station
to Mom, Dad, and Saint Clairsville, O-hi-o

Two days later
courtesy of a forty-nine-dollar, one-way Greyhound bus ticket
I found myself standing in the scorching Arizona sun, wondering who I am
Didn’t take long for my hair to grow long—
Something like Carlos Santana’s black frizzy ‘fro
For a spell, time stood still—
the desert sunsets and Sabino Canyon stole my heart away

Joe Cocker, Buffalo Springfield, the Beatle’s Abbey Road streamed live
from every open dorm room door at Yavapai Hall
Missed the Doors at Hi Corbett Field, but
I was there inhaling the Canned Heat and more that fall
Life slips by—
just like the stealthful Greyhound did
during my fifty-hour trip from Wheeling to Tucson

People appear and disappear—
just like the Beatles’ lonely people
Tucson, now a memory, lingering
alongside past loves, empty beer bottles, and faded sunsets
Makes me wonder what is next

Sharing Pictures on Facebook

Every day I show you a picture–
Moments frozen in time, until
you cast your eyes upon them, unfreezing
them as newborn moments

Every day I show you a picture–
Something my eyes thought was interesting, and
worthy of copying for other eyes to see, and
bring back to life

Every day I show you a picture–
Something I wanted to hold onto, hoping
life could go on forever, but deep down
knowing life is redefined in each moment

Every day I show you a picture–
A way I can help you understand me, and who I am
as a soul peeping out, through a camera
trying to understand you

on an early november day in the woodland forest

i love how the sun so matter of factly screams through the woodland forest,
setting the leaves on fire with gold and yellow hues and tones, and
how tree shadows are painted on the narrow leaf-covered path, carrying
us up the hill and into the pure white sunlight

and just beyond lies the bubbling creek, preparing itself for winter,
once all the leaves have turned brown and fallen to the ground, and
snowflakes dance between the naked branches of the trees, as
thin sheets of ice cover the lazy edges of the creek

and even on this brisk early november day, i can imagine
the forest’s quiet whispers and sighs, as the snow buries the crunchy leaves,
and etches white streaks on the zen-like tree branches, holding their position
until the sun once again sets them free of the clutch of winter