christmas spirits…

another new hip
no dancing this christmas eve
nor drinks with old friends
until presents are unwrapped
for their old hands have grown cold
but they’ve left behind their love

 

 

an old photograph…

i am
a fading
portrait
each friend’s death
dims
a part
of
who
i am
and
each death
within
the family
makes faint
a portion
of
who
i was
soon
i will have
no eyes
to
see
into
tomorrow

 

mistaken idenity…

every since
high school
you’ve
counted
too much
on
angels
when things
were
bad
you’d quietly pray
that
your angel
would
take the pain
away
it never did
but
you continued
to pray
and when
as
one might expect
the
pain
gave way
to
joy
you credited
your
angel
ignoring
what you
and
your friends
had done
to clear away
the
darkness
perhaps
the light of joy
blinds us
to
the real angels
in our lives
the ones
without wings
that by no standard
could be confused
with some
angelic form
but
that are
none the less
performing miracles
that change
the path
of
our future

 

a new year’s eve toast…

 

here’s a toast to friends
the ones that death has taken
just as wine warms souls
you’ve warmed the days of many
so may peace be what you’ve found

 

loose bits of life#20…

 

friendships lost in time
miles and miles
separate what was

 

star chart…

aunt bea
said
i have
a small jar
of
gold stars
on
my office shelf
each
one
represents
someone
i’ve loved
or
grew up with
when
a friend
passes on
i
place their star
on
a picture
of
the night sky
in
my bedroom
and
though
the jar
grows
empty
and
my loneliness
grows
i see
the heavens
full
of stars
when
i rest my head
at night
and
that
gives
me
hope

for marianne…

these
fancy dress shoes
have
holes in them
places
where the earth
can reach up
and
touch my soul
sometimes
the touch is cold
reminders
of
those who hurt me
but
more often than not
the earth is warm
a warm embrace
from
an old lover
or
friends
now buried beneath
the places
that i walk
country roads
city streets
and
places
we discussed
oh
and
your home
where i walk now
dressed
in these new shoes
that
have holes in them
places
where the earth
can reach up

tommy can you hear me…

my memory’s reflection
seems to have
faded
in the mirror
of time
old friends
no longer call
even old enemies
no longer are
appalled
and i find
that i
no longer long
to be seen
could easily
be a hermit
perhaps
i am
not on some
frigid mountain top
god forbid
given those
itchy wool robes
but
here in the confines
of these four walls
wanting no more
than meditation
and
a quiet enclave
away from the things
i tried to change
just another
do-gooder
fighting windmills
feasting
on life’s
porridge

To order my books click on a book cover…that’s the only commercial on this page that’s mine…others are placed without my approval or permission.

monday staff meeting…

as rain falls come friend
and let’s make strategic plans
for dreaming all day

it was so damn obvious…

digital decoupage cwmartin 2012

she sat
carefully analyzing
her dreams
according
to
university standards
using
a dream dictionary
she kept
on the nightstand
just in case
she had
a meaningful
experience at night
she began
considering
the underlying
events
hoping
to
unify her body
mind
and spirit
through self-exploration
hoping
to unlock
the latent agents
of those dreams
maybe
arguments
with friends
lost lovers
fears
as well as
an array
of approach-avoidance
possibilities
only
to find
a half-eaten piece
of pizza
beside
the bed