All poems Copyrighted by the Author
Sleep of the Innocent
The sheets whisper their lullaby
as the innocent settle into sleep
Lashes flutter as the promise
of the next day flashes through
a mind that knows no compromise.
The veil is drawn round and quiets
the heart that knows only love.
Deep in sleep, the innocent
smile – evidence of a peaceful soul.
Now the tinkle of light laughter
at some vision of happiness.
To laugh in your sleep – sign of
ultimate satisfaction with life!
The innocent enjoy this gift,
reward for life well lived
while the rest of the wicked world lies abed
plotting their selfish plans or stalked
by memories of sins long past.
The Forty Mile Fall
At the dawn of creation
On that very first morn
When the mind caught fire
And reason was born
The ascent of mankind began
With a spark, a seed, a circle
And reflections in water
And the self-aware miracle
Then came the questions
The riddles of life
The horror of evil
The inevitable strife
Then man invented his Gods
But later found most were dead
Reason took their place
And science and logic were wed
Then miracles and wonders
Graced every abode
Everyone had more than enough
And commerce over-flowed.
Old barriers were broken
We traded wax and feathers
For wings of carbon and steel
And loosed our Earthly tethers.
Now denizens of the skies
We looked beyond the blue
And set our sights on the stars
And toward the future we flew.
Columbia sailed a new voyage
Seven explorers we thrust into space
To establish there a beachhead
A new garden and dwelling place
Perched on high they looked around
Wondering at the monumental task
But what’s up must come down
When our reach exceeds our grasp.
And this they soon found out
As complexity hit the wall
When arrogance and hubris
Led to the forty mile fall
Man’s desire to rule his world
His wish for domination,
To transform genetics and mind
Will lead to war and abomination.
So let this be the lesson
What always was and still is true
Remember that the surviving Gods,
Mars and Nemesis, will have their due.
Beauty Forsaken
Once a dream
of restless nights
of youth denied
Eyes, lips, hair
soft yielding fair
promise delight
and secrets
Lithe, supple limbs
vigor shining health
false command
of fate and hand
You, confident of youth
and timelessness
stride on unaware
not looking back
Options spread
for casual choice
but not I, even
if age and beauty
were in balance.
For this traveler
has seen too much
and your beauty
is barely noticed
and deliberately forsaken.
The Last Battle
The last battle is fought
in every soul and mind
between good and evil
with no clear victor
And so we take up arms
each day with the sun
as our witness, pitiless
revealing every flaw
When God breathed
and the soul was created
and humankind first saw
that stark demark
that separates us
from lives brutish, short
the die was cast
if knowledge is power
we grasped our fate
and free will became
our judge and executioner
Regardless of belief
or of none at all
Each must choose
each day upon waking
how to walk that razor edge
between good and evil.
What code will guide you?
Whether ancient text
or the ethics of the day
you have that inner voice
whispering the way
in some it is mute
and they evil incarnate
in some an opera
leading toward the divine.
Most walk between,
their code unseen
but you may be sure
we all fight that last battle in
The continuous and unending war.
1990 Ch. F.
Darkness fled the light’s beam
and for two beats of the heart
I thought your ribs rose
A quiver of the hand
and the inconstant light
gave the illusion of life.
You did not stir
I’m sorry; I stroked your hair
glistening red in the faint illumination
your mother stood by and watched
A whippoorwill sang in the distance
I have seen this before and thought
I would be unmoved
A birth alone in the darkness
a stirring of huge forms….
beneath, cold, wet–fear
Your mother struggles to her feet
to drive them away
but they are too many
You rise from instinct
but the ground falls away
you rise again and again
The last attempt brings you
to the bottom of exhaustion
cold and wet, you lie and wait
I wanted to be with you
the .44 gleaming
understudy of injectable death
But you died alone
Never able to find your mother
I stroke your mane and weep
Graceful legs destined to
carry you at light-speed stretch
endlessly from your small body
What expanse of earth
did you stride and gather yourself
for that final leap
The Horse
He is dark and wet
Bowed and flexed
Piston cannons pound the ground.
Muscle breathes living beneath his skin
Quivering at the spur’s mistaken superiority
A vessel for speed,
He contains the speed but barely
Driven blood flows to the biological
Hydraulics of gaskin, stifle, and hock
Blood willed to generations unknown
Coveted, purchased, traded and sold
It is fluid, and elusive
Bestowing its gifts at random
The speed flows in the blood
Racing with the heart
Racing death on the plain
Racing into subservience
His body an engine
A machine for winning
Refined and redesigned
Until the structure
Can no longer support the obsession
The Stallion
On a late spring dawn
following exhaustion and emptiness
the sound of stamping hooves
rustled the curtains at the window
and woke me from doubtful sleep
Silently I rose to watch through
the screen the stallion rise in his paddock
to strike the air and the puff of
dust as to Earth he returned again
Then the powerful hip propelled
him forward
in fluid floating motion
and making a wide arc
he approached the fence
in shortening stride
he collected himself
only to abort
then stand and snort
at the quiet mares
who only nickered their encouragement
His ears prick in my direction
at the low words I speak through
the gray morning damp air
He looks into my eyes as I approach
I stand before my equal in acknowledged
truce and watch my reflection in his eye
Then,
slowly, the reflection
begins to move
and change
time falls away
and I sense my body differently
and feel the Earth through all four legs
Seen From Afar
Seen from afar
our lives look the same
details are lost
big themes prevail
But inside our locked rooms
we cannot see
that we are indistinguishable
from the rest of the tribe
One thinks he is cursed by fate
another, she is blessed by God
together they fail to see
it is only the hand of chance
Randomness of infinity
depths of space unfathomable
the probabilities of eternity
guarantee some outcomes
So the next time you feel
so very special and unique
or perhaps the breath of evil
take comfort in this knowledge
That the illusions we create
are often cured by a little time
spent considering the vastness
and the timelessness that surround
The sacrifice of Theresa
the madness of Nietzsche
the serpent in the garden
and Christ on the cross.
Bunkhouse
Bunkhouse talk to a sleepy boy
sounds like a rumble of distant thunder
Booted toes silhouetted in the fireplace
saddle blanket warmth smelling faint of horse
The talk drones on of old times and women
The flames wake with a poke and engulf new fuel
Like the young cowboy who hears the tales of
far off places and the heroes of the west
The farther dark clicks and gleams
as a cowboy peers through a cylinder at the fire.
And the aroma of gun oil mixes with pipe smoke
as deft brown fingers braid a quirt for spring
Scarlet Harbinger
Scarlet harbinger of mortality
premonitions of decline
feeble symptom of time and loss
What did we ever have?
Illusion of vigor?
Youthful tribe cradling the present
Babe of fruition.
Pagan rituals of fertility
Dionysian ceremonies of warrior strength
Beauty, bright, shining, verdant.
Straight clean limbs, smooth and glowing
And an irresistible will to power.
Recognizing no master.
Fearless owner of their time.
And sharing the bonds of youth and future.
Then, unexpected, a token of things to come.
A step slow, a waning of strength.
The first lines of lost beauty.
and luxurious hair now dry and brittle.
And these the signs of the scarlet harbinger.