just beyond the breakers

Aimlessly , so aimlessly
I ride the sea, our olive sea
I take the waves, approaching me
that slowly mount and crash~

they pull me out, beyond my height
and shove me down, with all their might
and spit me out, the lion's mouth
on glistening shores of glass.

It's not my fault that I can't surf
I bearly swim this dream I'm in
I've had before, for what it's worth,
a life that's lacking truth.

Dreams spur me on, they make me wild
though middle aged, more like a child
when I wake up~ my body sings
hello again to youth~

I take the drive, it's not that far
down to the shore, there must be more
Stop in to check out longboards
at my friend's surfshop galore.

I'm 45 and though I strive
to maintain shaping, there's no escaping
that at the very time of this here taping
I may have weighed some more.

I do not think, I know I'd fail
to squeeze this body's blubbered whale
into any wetsuit made on Earth
by any stretch of a fisherman's tale.

I was, in highschool, a tiny pearl
a strong small waisted little girl
and what a waste, but still in haste
I dream to rip a curl!

I wandered out, stood in the stance
to watch the waves, as in a trance
no one was there, I do declare
to these ends I will be brave!

Before I go, don't go just yet
To meet my Makers, cold and wet
I'll paddle out, without regret
and set awhile beyond the breakers

It's not my fault that I can't surf
I bearly swim this dream I'm in
I have before, and what is more
but now i want the truth~

Dreams spur me on, they make me wild
and though I'm old, more like a child
when I wake up~ my body sings
hello again to youth~

High Tide

High tide is making it's way to my door
and I, on the sand, feel the waves pound the shore
you're pulling me out and I'm wanting you more
and it's high time,'cuz high tide is coming~

I wait on the boardwalk where movies were shown
a hundred years later I silence my own
take a ride down to Edgars and play on my phone
well it's high time you called and I'm humming~

High tide. wait for the high tide
best wait, see what it brings
shells on the sand, and not all are broken
rare beach glass and HEY, my heart strings!

And when I am lonely I go to the sea
I wait for the high tide, it won't wait for me
and I grab onto someone whose grabbing for me
feelin nothing, ice water is numbing~

We swim out there longing and wait for the ride
we speak of excitment and full of our pride
and we take from each other, whatever's inside
and you, on my heart strings, are strumming~

We're out past the breakers, it's easy to be
but one day you find that you need to break free
and I'm out there alone, but not scary for me
riding waves and I know how to milk 'em~

Weary I let that old ride take me in
I float with the current, don't bother to swim
pretty soon I'm washed up on the sand, for the WIN
and like high tide, I wore out my welcome~

Low tide is awesome we all need a break~
we give till it hurts and quite often we take
and it's all for the best, find those treasures and rest
cuz it's low tide.... but high tide is coming!

just saying

just saying, not saying is good
if you keep it all under the hood
when you move to mobile
need not make it global
though trailers are better than wood.

Get thee away!

Took the short bus to freedom
on a dare
played the dumb card,
and no one
seemed to care
and she wished
that they could work it out
but you know what that's
all about
and next time he'd be swift to sign
a pre-nup or beware~
and 'til then he'll keep his shorts on
and they'll call it fair and square.

and he said
"Get thee away from me, oh my~
I can't see the stars
for the clear blue sky, oh I
I can't see the forest
for the blossom tree,
and it's getting late for me, woe's me
it's getting late for me"

and then one bright day,
in some other year
somebody told her
the ending was near
and to buy up the stock
and sell all that was dear
for the price of a better life somewhere.

and she said
"Get thee away from me, oh my
I can't see the stars
for the clear blue sky, oh I
I can't see the forest
for the blossom tree
it's getting late for me
it's getting late for me!

The Quest for Warmth

Captured there in orange
beneath the old street light
a cloud of breath exhaled
hangs heavy in the night.

Waiting on the 409
has never been this bleak
the fierce wind nips your ear lobe
and ice cold stings your cheek.

I watch you turn your collar up
your back against the bite
one hand on that coffee cup
the other out of sight.

Each morning
getting colder
the forecast is for snow
in fleece and wool you face the frost
and how I'll never know

I see you’re green
my blue faced friend
the green before the fall
you've never been about the perks
it's conscience above all.

The last thing on your mind just now
would be to get a Lynx
traffic is lame
road rage insane
And air pollution stinks.

Don't EVEN get you started
on the SUV
spews out nitrous oxide
and guzzles Texas tea.

Public parking,
another rare find
for what you get,
they rob you blind.

and what they miss
the vandal takes
leave you with migranes
the car alarm makes.

better for all
we all take the train
or one car per family
'stead of one car per brain.

Watching you stand there
with ice crystals forming
I despise all your stubborness
you NEED global warming!

I know you're no girly
my Ever-Ready mate
but my Duracel is waiting
and the 409 is late

I get out of my car
and approach you from the rear
my work cut out, without a doubt
the ice lymric is near

poetic license pending
I call for a herione's ending
like a frozen filet, without word or delay
I can lift you without even bending.

Once inside and thawing
you start in about the gas
I turn down the heat,
but turn up the seat
that's warming up your butt.

I'm all for the planet, I tell ya
and doing whatever is best
but for mornings like these
with your jewels in deep freeze
come with and we'll heat up the QUEST.

Sweet Mysteries

A song for Bob Dylan- To the tune of " When the Deal goes Down".

At the end of the day
it could go either way
much like at the end
of this song~
Well I write for a while
then I sink to a smile
when I think how you
draw me along.

Well we came with a story
a beautiful song, unheard verses
locked deep in our soul~
and the way to discover
what's locked in this lover
find the key that will fit
the keyhole.

And sometimes we're inspired
other times we're just tired
and it's sad when we don't
realize~
it's because of ourselves
talent sits on the shelves
in the darkness for the rest
of our lives.

It was trouble and strife
anger cuts like a knife
and it tore at the door
of my mind (and my pride)~
it was then your sweet voice
through the keyhole rejoiced
and released the deadbolt
from inside.

So now I can tell you
just what's on my mind
I am corny and wierd and unkind,
sometimes...
but I say what I feel
'cuz i know what is real
and it sure beats
what I left behind.

Thought the answer was
finding the right key~
the thing that would then
make you whole~
but the Master
unlocking
life's sweet mysteries~
is the love sown
in each other's
soul.

Held

the randomness
the senselessness
you work
to make life count
and then
it comes to this

and in the end
your'e left with pain
and someone
writes a song
and it
just seems inane

there is no way
to justify
find meaning in
your loss, you know
but still
we try

there are no words
you need to hear
you only want
the comfort
and it seems
so clear

it's in our hearts
we want to take
your misery
to share your grief
and ease
the ache

well-meaning words
it's just the thought
and sinking down
too weak to stand
with arms
you're caught

held up and loved
in silence there
is something more
than words can say
to show we care

Just being there.

The War Against Terror

What are the rules in the war against terror~
Did we foil their plans or was it simply their error?

How do we know when we've won the big fight~
Will they run for their lives? Raise a flag that is white?

Does someone announce when the suicide bombers
turn a blind eye to virgins, or whatever they're promised?

Can we sweeten the deal, make them an offer~
live belly dancers...season tickets... gold coffer?

So what will it cost us to buy back a brain
to turn a sick mind back to thinking again?

These 'holy warriors' choose death over reason
to back out on Jihad would sooner be treason

believing it's Allah that leads them to take
their own precious lives and far more is at stake~

The innocent victims we can not defend~
who daily live not knowing how it will end.

How can we justify, how will it look~
when all this is put in the history book?

What have we gained by the loss of their lives?
We kill for our cause, but the maddness survives~

We've stood up for freedom and bravely gone in
not once, but two times and then over again~

The Jihad, and what not, and now look to Zion,
where Jewish extremists hate the Almighty Lion~

Terrorists plot for the end of the West
while we who are faithful are put to the test~

What ought we do then, when challanged with threats
the further we dig, the hotter it gets~

Over thirty four hundred have paid with thier blood~
not counting civilians, who've died in the mud.

On innocent soil, the war will continue~
If you think this will end, then the truth is not in you.

The Brave William Wallace, he raised up his men~
to fight for their freedom, and won in the end.

He built up their pride and the love of their home~
picked a fight with King, and thus ends this poem.



"If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, pray, seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land."

(2 Chronicles 7:14, NRSV).

On Vanderveer

I wanna live on Vanderveer
where everyday's
the same all year
Just start the car
it's not that far
and take us there
I'll show you where~

Verdant hills on Vanderveer
lifts the burden,
stills the fear
Free to all who
hold her dear
Fairfield farms
are also near.

So come with me
my silent love
to old back roads
I'm dreaming of
we'll park the car
and take our time
and find a way
to make it rhyme.

You wave goodbye,
"farewell, my dear,
it sure was nice
to have you here,
but in a year
we'll have a beer
and toast to life
on Vanderveer"~

I spent the night on Vanderveer
and in the morning
it was clear~
the sun broke treetops
glistening
on grassy fields
and everything
and early up
I drank in dew
and not once did I
think of you.

I hid my gear
on Vanderveer
and walked for miles
on trails back there
with Autumn near
the leaves still green
but change will come
and lead to drear
but not before the
colors cheer
the lonely woods
of this frontier
and change is good
a sign of growth
and suddenly
I shed a tear~

My dream of freedom
brought me here
but truth be told
I'm getting old
the moldy ground
is damp and cold
my back is sore
my butt was bitten
on Vanderveer
though I was smitten~

I guess too quickly
after all
and swallowed up
by nature's call
but left alone
my thoughts are clear
I'd hurt you more
by staying here
cause who'd be there
to steer you clear
of Satan's brew
and backwash beer
to bust your chops
and mend your rear
and warm your toes
and bend your ear?

and who to take
my great advice
on vita veeta vega vice
and read my poem
and get the joke
and buy me gingerale
with coke
when I get rough
without enough
you pull me though
the bitter stuff

and put up with my
lack of taste
and bring me to a better place
and wait for me
and pray for me
and sometimes a
charade for me
but better off than
being here
the lonely life
on Vanderveer~

and so before I
lose my fear
and wander back
there with the deer
quick grab some cash
for Mickys, Dear
and pick me up
on Vanderveer.

how it ends

Once a bitter pill
without a hope, half-hearted~
finally found the driving will
to finish what I've started~

so tell me nothing briefly
pretend you have no clue
never drop a hint and I will
do the same for you~

leave me in the mystery
forgive me if I whine
I need to do this slowly
don't go spoilin' the last line~

Not really into dust
Not really into dust
and when we leave we must
but cannot tell them how it ends~

and if I'm right in trusting
on the Word which went before
and spoke of heavens glory
for believers at the door~

then you can all be peaceful
knowing I had hope in Jesus
the Word who wrote the story
of God's love and how he sees us~

If the ending disappoints me
and there's nothing there to gain,
all the time has been wellspent
if just to reconcile my brain.

'Cause nothing owes me nothing
I just want to know the score
I can guesstimate my outcome,
when you leave, please shut the door.

Not really into dust
Not really into dust
and when we leave we must
but cannot not tell them how it ends.

sweetly in the tree

sweetly in the tree she plays her song
of inspiration
with the psaltery
and the wind blows ever gently in her hair.

creaking on the floorboards he steps softly
so to hear the melody and not disturb
the purity, because she's unaware.

leaning up against the wooden railing
he can see her on the largest limb
her feet are dangling down
it appears she's lost a sandal.

and from that place, the sweetest sound
her voice
the same when he's around
but softly singing praises
to another man.

Smiling, it's the one
and only Jesus
who can lift this girl beyond
life's insecurties and troubles to a higher place.

The same one who gives
strength for all that climbing with
and instrument of peace, and be assured that it's for
now and it's forever.

Music stills the soul
and calms the torrents,
but troubled times can wrench the heart
and we may need a place of solitude
to hide away awhile.

Next time he will see
she has a ladder
to the tree
he'll build a platform
and a smile will pass between them
since he understands.

Love is kind and patient
all enduring and accepting
when there comes a time
we can not fill the empty place.

Knowing you are there inspite
of everything that's happened
is a comfort and just like
God who never leaves or turns His face.

Hearing these soft words
he takes a seat upon the porch swing
and will be there till the sun goes down
or nature calls or someone falls
'cause after all...

she has no business climbing trees.

forgive me for saying so but....

I'm keepin' all these things inside
yet saying so, guess I can't hide
but you don't really need to know
so what's to talk about?

Early to bed and early to rise
and what I keep back, well that's no big surprise
just one less thing I'm offering
the world to have to think about~

and better for you that I've saved you the time
and kept 'em as drafts 'cause they're privately mine
I'm not always open though often I find
in my heart that I'm secretly smitten~

but who really cares what I've got on my plate
and who'sit said what about whats-her-name's mate
and before I can write it,it's yesterday's news
and the views, none are wise that I've written~

so I'll pick out a few since I can't take no mo
and read all you've got, like you're some kind of show
a daily soap opera I'd rather not miss
(save the kiss and the bliss) or be dissin~

And though YouTube is boobery still I can choose
what I'd rather be hearing without any dues
if I need a good cry, I can tune into blues
and bawl my eyes out or just listen~

Hang onto your hat, you can meet me for lunch
I'm easy, but don't getyour briefs in a bunch
it's true and I know that I rarely say much
but somehow I make myself clear~

Just give me a call, you can drop me line
I'm better in person when feeling quite fine
my knickers are twisted, at times in a pinch,
I'm a wench but I'll always be near~

I'll wrap up this poem with a quaint little line
it's good to say nothin' with so little time
then maybe the words that I use though they rhyme
will be ones that your wanting to hear~

or not.