THE BOY IN PLAIN SIGHT

I was the boy who hid in plain sight,
my outline blending with branches in tall Oklahoma oaks
watching the sunrise break on crisp mornings,
learning how I fit into the scheme of life.
A mother skunk, leading her kittens into the barn,
alert to sounds of intruders, knew I was there,
but dismissed me with a quick sniff,
as if I had no business being near the hawk’s nest.
the pigs ignored the skunk family as long as they stayed
on their own side of the wall as if it didn’t matter at all.
the chickens always made an uproar and called for help
if the skunks turned in their direction.
but in the mornings the skunks stayed tight,
checking for insects and mice, and it didn’t seem right
but I had plans for her this night.
we had to protect Billy and his family from a ghostly crew,
and I didn’t know what else to do, I had no gun,
wasn’t allowed to have one, because I might start a fight.
I had heard a group was coming to get Billy and his kin,
and they might never be seen again.
the skunks were my friends, but I set a trap and captured all three,
gave them water and food and waited until dusk
took the mother skunk out and into a gunny sack.
she wasn’t happy, as a matter of fact, but she calmed down,
my parents were off socializing at a pie supper,
and my sisters were telling stories before they went to bed,
I’ll be back in about an hour,” I finally said.
they eyed me with suspicion until I lied about playing kick the can.
Mother skunk and I made it safely without being seen.
I convinced Billy and his family to hide in the forest,
because I knew they would protect all they owned,
but somebody would die, either black or white,
and there would be a swarm of officers making things right.
but who was I to interfere, a world of hate was coming here.
three lights in the house were purposely left on,
and I wondered out loud, “Lord, what have I done?”
Six cars and trucks without lights started up the drive,
tomorrow the news might say, “There was a shooting! Nobody left alive!”
the cars lined up facing the house, men in sheets got out,
I could smell the gas as they prepared their torches,
I knew these men. earlier they sat on their porches,
drinking rye whiskey and gin, pretending to be civilized men.
they waited for the signal and to give the Dixie cry,
I thought it was time for me to slip away and let mother skunk fly.
I was behind them when I threw her into the air,
better than expected she landed on a car roof, angry and tired,
she sprayed all around, and the first inebriated man dropped his can to the ground. he screamed and ran spreading the flames, of course the torches and sheets got part of the blame, the middle car blew up, then right down the line,
a fiery wall of flames separating men from their escape,
some were sensible and rolled in the dirt, they were lucky to receive
second degree kinds of hurt. and mother skunk didn’t trust me for a long, long time, but Billy and his family are doing just fine.

BUFF

Think your edges should be worn down?
Buff them until smooth all around,
I’ll help.
You let me shine in the darkness,
buffing me with tenderness. Then you asked,
“Want to go swimming in the buff?”
Hold me back,
I’ll go.
You shared the sea of love,
And waves of passion crashed over us.
I want us to be the same.
What color shall we paint our skin?
Paint me now with yellow and beige
I’m ready.
We have the same outer skin and
Our hearts pump hot blood within.
I’m a real buff regarding cars,
Shall I take you for a spin?
My engine is racing.
When we return we will go to the gym,
Toning and tightening our abs and thighs,
Want to exercise?

May 30, 2017

DETONATE: (2 out of three)

DETONATE

If he was careful he would still be alive in the morning. Just one small slip, one careless move, and he would be history. No one would care if he was the best at disarming explosives. If he became a statistic his name would be listed with the worst and not the best.
The explosive devices had two components but he only knew where one was located. He disarmed the first explosive quickly after the dogs stopped and pointed. Their noses and tails lined up and he left them frozen in place. This was not a time for them to be friendly and wag their tails. He motioned for their trainers to take the dogs away. If he did this alone he could concentrate.
The first explosive was one of the first generation with wires, homemade and predictable. He clipped a few wires and took a deep breath. The second explosive was more modern but well within his expertise. He had recently worked with an explosives expert and taken workshops. He felt competent but without being too smug. He practiced over and over until he could take them apart in his sleep. At the workshop he discovered that he was chosen especially for this task. As long as he was alive this was his job.
Somewhere close, there was a third explosive that no one else had noticed. He couldn’t explain why he knew it was there. He only knew he couldn’t see, hear, smell, or feel it.
Sweat was running down his face into his eyes. His knew his vision could not be impeded without disastrous effects. His hands also had to be dry. He looked around for a volunteer, someone to mop the moisture from his face and his hands.
His partners were standing behind buildings, protecting themselves from flying debris. They had no intention of being in harm’s way. The administrators had retreated to cozy rooms away from immediate danger. They excused themselves by saying they had tons of paperwork that had to be filled out. An obvious lie, they were afraid the explosives could kill and maim, even if they weren’t close to the scene. Besides, he was required to fill out his own paperwork. In the office that was one of the standard jokes. If you don’t have time to do the paperwork, blow it up.
Daylight was approaching. The street lights were coming on and the sun was setting. He hated working under pressure but he had no choice. Cursing under his breath, he began searching again.
Two hours later, when he opened the door to his house he could tell something was amiss. His computer ‘s lights were blinking rapidly, talking to another computer or android. His computer became very quiet and all lights went off. Someone was in the room with him. He drew his gun but it was too dark to see. He shoved it back into his holster.
“Hello,” he said calmly. “I know someone is hiding here. Please show yourself.”
In spite of endangering himself, he turned the lights on. At first there was no movement, then a man stepped from behind a door. Another movement, and a woman stepped from the closet. “Don’t you think you are being foolish?” she asked. “Where is your gun?”
Her partner said, “How shall we kill him?”

(to be continued)

YOUR WORDS: POSITIVE OR NEGATIVE?

YOUR WORDS: POSITIVE OR NEGATIVE?

Picture your words on a number line
Not by counting letters or sounds,
Consider the words that might be out-of-bounds,
Or messages that might say,
I don’t feel very well today,
look at what I’m saying and go away.
You still don’t get what I mean?
Words hide feelings that are often unseen.
What if you could see how your words,
Become larger and powerful when both seen and heard.
Think of words as being positive or negative on a number line
Negative_______________0_________________Positive
Hate Love
Death Life

Opposites help make the picture clear,
They show the truths you hold dear.
Hate brings Death to the very end,
Love brings Life, and a place to begin.
When you say negative things under your breath,
You are secretly wishing for my death,
Words such as those should remain unsaid
They are bullets aimed at my head.
If you say positive words you take away strife..
Positive words encourage and add to life.
You can be ruthless and claim to be misunderstood
When your words are venomous and not for good.
Choose sweet words if you are my friend,
Bitter words if our friendship should end.
Words, powerful words, what words come to mind?
Deceptive or truthful, kind or unkind?
Intending to incite, insult or infuse,
When you gossip about people, what words do you choose?
Do you want us to live longer, become stronger, and love more?
Do your words lift us up so we can soar?
Picture your words as they rush to our ears,
What impression or message do you want us to hear?

May 29, 2017

IMPRESSION

Impression

The king was young and energetic but he was tired of wars, tired of negotiating, tired of having to race around his kingdom assuring his subjects he would be there to rally the troops. If an opposing army threatened, the king needed an envoy, someone who would represent the king and prove that he did indeed represent the king. The representative to leave earlier so the king could organize his followers and hide his treasures.
If the envoy was not loyal, it could be disastrous. If his subjects knew the king had sent the envoy and believed him to be a true subject, they would rally to the cause. There had to be a way to keep the king’s picture, or an impression of him, fresh in his people’s memories.
He summoned his wise men and presented them with the problem. He said, “I can’t continue at the current pace of racing around the countryside like a politician, making sure my subjects remember who I am. I have to get enough support to remain king. Someone has to represent me at the political action committees, kiss enough babies, promise enough victories, raise enough money to pay for all the castles, fund the crusades, etc. When will I have time for all that? I want people to believe my vice-king is telling the truth, just like I do.”
The wise men sat in a circle and discussed the problem. They began to shake their heads. “There is no way someone can represent the king and the truth. No one looks or sounds like the king and no one believes he always tells the truth. And who can draw enough pictures that look like the king? Every picture is a little bit different. Fraud investigators would have a field day with that one.”
A young waitress was pouring tankards of ale and overheard their conversation. “Sirs, every person sits down differently and leaves a different impression on their chair’s cushion. The King has been riding most of the day. He always leaves a broad impression.”
The wise men considered her words carefully. “We agree, but that impression is too large and not very long lasting.”
The waitress considered that for a moment. “Last night the king was so tired he did not remove all of his jewelry when he was getting ready for bed. He was still writing out his thoughts for his speech tomorrow and he accidently let his hand with the royal ring rest against one of the candles. I will show you.” She returned a few minutes later with a candle. “See? His ring made quite an impression. Everyone who kisses his ring and pledges loyalty will recognize his ring’s imprint.”
The wise men intended to give the young waitress a good tip for being so helpful but one of the men mentioned to the others that she was blonde. “We would appear to be fools if a blonde woman was given credit for being wise. One of us should get credit”.
They drew lots and the winner went to the king and reported the good impression regarding the wax. Unfortunately, this occurred while the king’s ratings were low and he was desperate to make a good impression on his subjects. The king had the wise man beheaded. Dead men tell no tales, and the king claimed credit.
From then on, wax images of the king’s ring were used to stamp his decrees and sent around the kingdom. All the people who saw the wax stamp on the royal decrees agreed they represented the king. The impressions were very clear. But it was not until centuries later, after videos, recordings, and other evidence could be compiled, that presidents, kings, and other politicians were proven to always tell the truth. At least that’s the impression they want to give.
May 27, 2017

HERE TODAY, GONE TOMORROW

EVANESCENT

Over periods of time people have taken their told,
Some in search for gold,
Some because they were bold,
Some for reasons that were never told.
A large lake, fed by large rivers in the San Joaquin,
Was the lifegiving force for thousands of years
To Indian tribes, trappers, and explorers.
Over one thousand square miles,
The largest fresh water lake west of the Mississippi River,
A large fishing industry, the land of giant beaver and otters,
A lake that took three days for a schooner to cross,
In a very short time, became evanescent,
Forgotten by all who used to admire.
Along with the native tribes, the gold rush turned the heads
Of miners, then vast farms that appeared and went, farmers
Spent the water reserves.
Today the great desert waits for a drink but its throat remains parched.

May 24, 2017

TOMORROW IS THE BEST DAY

Every day is sweeter than the day before,
Every day I love life a little bit more.
Starting with eye raising exercises,
Making my eyes look full of surprises.
Leaping out of bed, (o.k. If I’m honest instead)
I crawl out and sometimes bump my head.
I stumble down the hall, holding on to the wall,
Realize I’m getting shorter than ever, I’m growing small.
Saying, Parkinson’s Disease, you ain’t got me yet!
I mumble a few other words like….oh I forget,
But it’s still a beautiful day, and nothing’s in my way,
There are Tigers (lilies) and Lions (dandelions)
A whole world full of animals, wild, and free,
Living with gusto just like me, don’t you agree?
Sooner or later I might take a swim,
I might wait until the ocean is filled to the brim.
Splash around in water trying not to sink.
Wondering where’s my woman? She’s my missing link.
But I manage to survive another fine day
With God’s abundant love packed around my solitary life,
And just maybe I could have survived a wife.
I remember to count the stars shimmering silver on black,
They remind me there’s nothing I need and nothing I lack.
But just in case I forgot even one little thing,
There’s always tomorrow to add to my list
One more time to kiss or be kissed,
Tonight when I bow down to pray,
I’ll say ,Lord, I’m ready but I need one more day.
P.S.
And Lord, I have three more blogs to write
And three more books, no, not tonight,
I’m writing about you, and I need more time.
There’s a few poems also with a little rhyme.
And I haven’t seen Sri Lanka, Moscow, or Idaho,
Your world is beautiful, you put on a show.
Yes, I’m finished with your world. I’d like to show it.
It’ll slow me down in the ground.
But it’ll take time BECAUSE I’m a poet.

May 24,2017

CATAPULT

A WOMAN WHO NEEDs TO LOVE
I met a woman who needs to love and be loved,
But I find her heart to be a castle
Fortified against implements of destruction,
Designed to protect her from lovers
Who could hurt her once again.
She keeps intruders out,
Refuses to be vulnerable,
I could never give her my heart,
The way I want to,
Until the castle’s gate is lowered
And the moat is crossed.
How could I enter such a fortress?
Should I use a catapult to overwhelm,
Hurling huge chunks of my heart at her walls
Breaking them down with force?
Or will her heart be like the walls of Troy,
Impenetrable until the gates are opened by choice?
Can it be done with flowers and sweet words ?
How can I be tender enough,
For her to breathe again
Without believing I am her enemy?
A catapult would leave destruction on both sides,
And might cause a collapse of all.
My heart waits impatiently.
Can’t we just fall in love?

May 23, 2017

ADRIFT

One of ours ships was adrift, my captain,
No one was at the helm,
But somehow she sailed on.
But she was out of our reach and going at a steady pace,,
Captain, I’m saying this to your face,
I wouldn’t lie to you.
There was no one in charge of this ship,
Except for a ghostly crew.
Mick and me tried to slip up to the ship,
Deep in the quiet of night,
But the ship picked up the pace
And soon was out of sight.
Yet we did see some eerie faces,
That grinned as we got near,
They were a pale green much like you,
And like your motley crew.
They wasn’t caring much about me,
Or about others, I think we agree.
Being adrift in a dark sea,
Was scary even to an old tar like me,
Captain, my captain, they had fangs long and sharp,
And eyes that stared cold as ice.
Where are we going, I asked once or twice.
They never told me, their silence would suffice.
The ship was adrift, though it never veered off course.
It sailed west into the setting sun,
Where the sails burned one by one.
Sharks circled, birds swooped for a closer view,
And other ships stayed far away, afraid of the ghostly crew.
My captain, I didn’t want to let you drown,
But the sharks were in a feeding frenzy,
And I didn’t know your hands were bound.
Everything you owned you left for me,
I’m ashamed you were never found.
But no longer will we drift at sea,
I’m glad you left me in charge,
Now we can seek revenge and get what we want,
As we travel the world at large.
Listen up, crew,
We’ve got work to do.
Ships will go under,
As we plunder.
Pour me another ale,
And off we’ll sail,
Across the ocean blue.

May 22, 2017

UNMOORED

Lately it had occurred to him
He was a stranger in his own home.
He was adrift and alone,
All emotional ties stripped away.
He was unmoored,
Uncertain to what he should do today.
His emotions were out of control,
A ship adrift in a vast ocean.
His old belief in marriage was shattered.
Wasn’t love all that mattered?
He sat, his head in his hands,
Why couldn’t anyone understand?
He must be losing his mind,
At least be borderline.
He was an interesting case,
Calm one moment, then a storm would cross his face.
With counseling he could make it through the week,
If he believed in himself and forgot he was a freak.
He was unmoored, unattached to the mother ship.
He had to get a grip.
Otherwise he could not help others.

May 21, 2017