Young Hemingway,
His new grown beard still black,
And rough,
Walks between
The cars
with an empty paper cup,
Acting tough,
And just before
he would
Have gotten paid,
He turns away,
And waves his arms
In circles to the sky,
Saying
Enough is enough.
The boatman
Has set his sights on travel,
With his ancient oar,
all on his own.
And he will journey far
To distant places
that he well knows,
And where he is
well known.
He is grateful
for good fortune
for all charitable hearts
Along his flowing road,
And for the safe directions
in which
The winds have blown.
Sister brother
Be my friend
We’re not strangers
But gaze at each
Other
Mirrored and
Different ends
Of the same One
In an instant
He was everywhere
And nowhere,
Simultaneously
In a thought,
In a note of music,
In a ray of light
Between the branches
Of a summer’s tree,
Witnessing the most intimate of
Conversations,
And love was manifest
Everywhere,
And it was all so overwhelming,
Yet so instantly easy.
Some illuminated evening
when the lights are all aglow
we will sit and sip the fragrance
of each other’s company
and these,
the warm lit faces,
that we know.
There is something
being said
in this little world
we live in.
We are all
intimately connected.
Every thing we do
reverberates
at frequencies
We cannot know.
Travelling in the grey grey blue,
The light is dark
And
A column of tears is
hanging overhead.
Travelling in the grey, grey blue, just thinking of you
Am I as good as dead?
Traveling on the grey grey blue
The days are passing and there’s nothing new;
No news
No sun, no shine
only grey, grey blue,
I’ve got the grey grey blue
Just thinking
Of you.
You didn’t tell me when
You’re coming back.
You left so matter of fact,
left me half asleep and half awake;
Can’t take this heartache
Got the grey, grey blue,
Just waiting for you.
Wondering if
and when
you’re ever coming back
I got the grey, grey blue just thinking
Of you.
You said you’d never leave,
Said I’d never have to grieve,
But here I am.
You left me In the grey grey blue – promises untrue.
Wondering if and when
you’re coming back
I got the grey grey blue just thinking
Of you.
I’m just travelling through,
That grey, grey blue just
Thinking of you.
Joyous
Fragrant night
Without a care
In the company
Of friends and blood
On a winding path
With music and a
Wafting scent of lilac
In the air.
I give you the
solitude
Of my heart,
Hoping it may blossom into
A wild bouquet of flowers , into a sudden buzz of cicadas,
Or the sound of ocean waves
Against some lost shore at night.
In everyone’s backyard
If you listen closely
You can
hear the sound
of Hearts,
seeds,
Breaking wide, and
Rising through
The earth to
Open once again
In a full view.
PWChaltas 