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Category Archives: Love

The House On Mason Road, In Sandwich, NH

The house on Mason Road

is set in the woods with a dirt driveway.

                                                —Mail box leaning

is the only indication of an entranceway.

Both for the snowplows and visitors.

—One, hopefully will miss—

The other, with blinker on

                                                —will turn in

Around the wooded curve to a clearing

where there, sits a house on Mason Road.

King, Princes, and Queen of the peaceful

Open Fire Tribe, harmoniously reside;

surrounded by pines, hardwoods,

                                                — and one apple tree.

Two Princes protect the entrance

With a bold plastic pink flamingo

                                                —ready to pounce

On imaginary villains who mean to do “good” harm!

Prince Popo? First with a plastic hammer; if the shadow has a cast.

Prince Gavyn? Waits for introductions, ducking once or twice

in the invisible clash… eventually both smile with relief

as they are greeted with the sight of bright  white teeth,

                                                —giving the signal to continue,

to all walk towards the fire

with hugs and handshakes when possible

                                                —Since most of them have their arms full.

Bringing food, twigs, beer, wine, whiskey, and wood

for an evening’s non-occasion meeting of the Fireside Tribe.

Conversation and laughter overtakes everything

as tradition prescribes,

                                                —they put all things,

other than their ancestors,

 And their continued fellowship

                                                —aside.

 

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A Father’s Wedding Card To: Jessica and Dylan

“Over and over and over you begin.

Drop, fall, falling and fall

 In love again— as the seasons pass,

See your hearts reflection

Looking through the window

One elbow on the windowsill.”

 

You grew from a seed, fallen from an oak. In your fall

You were embraced in the womb of bright-colored fallen leaves

—quilted for the comfort of winter

—made just for you.

 

It is nature’s well-attended consummation.

 

Cleansed by snow, baptized in spring rain,

 Encouraged by the earth beneath you,

The sun of life above you—

You grew with patience, understanding, and perseverance.

 

 Now, having watched all seeds grow: let me fall again

—in age with roots entwined and with fallen branches

To nourish you, with patience, understanding, and perseverance

—to build your own home in harmony with nature’s beautiful quilt,

 

As you drop, fall, falling, and then fall in love again

Over and over and over, you begin.

 

 
16 Comments

Posted by on May 31, 2017 in Father, Fathers, Friendship, Love, Nature, Prose Poetry

 

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Breakfast Before Their School‘s Mid-Terms

          In the foothills of New Hampshire, on the threshold of the White Mountains, the sun began to warm the valley. The warm spring morning sprayed glistening frost into fog. Another growing up season had passed. The children were getting dressed with some apprehension.

            I looked out the kitchen window and I could smell, feel spring, and see it lightly, loftily, taking its place. The morning greeted me with multiple shadows getting more confident and larger behind cereal bowls and warm buttered coffee cake.

Budding on branches

Spring’s new born generation

Peaks beyond shadow

dVerse~ Haibun Monday: The Shadow Knows 4/3/2017

 
 

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Note Found On The Refrigerator 3/19/2017

Don’t Shout!

            Shhhhhhhsh, your mind—

            For as long as it takes—

            Understanding the needs, we relieve

            Within our presence.

            Our life’s last ground is guided

By our first chance.

            You know we hold each other

            Responsible for our love.

           

 
14 Comments

Posted by on March 19, 2017 in Love, Sittting still, thoughts, Zen

 

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Notes Found On The Refrigerator February 2017

The Internal Seed

I never did pretend very well.

Truth was perception—

Dismissing objective proof,

For the answer to the basic question

 “How does popcorn pop”?

Mistakes, miss-judgments, funneled into the mind

Of tornadoes swirling heart-popping roofs off conjecture.

How long can one pretend to believe you can be received?

 Gently through the bluster of ignorance?

And, yes, I am not the person I am.

I am the one inside of you

That never does pretend, very well.

“Wake up!” Said, the knife and fork to the spoon.

  *****

I have lost many memories that I often find in my heart.

   *****

Go home and simply be honest

To your lover and rekindle

The one action you forgot.

 
7 Comments

Posted by on February 12, 2017 in Experimental, ignorance, Love, Spiritual, Zen

 

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Show Me How (A Message From Joan of Arc)

 

In my need, why are you talking to me ancestral spirit?

Bringing me to my knees in guilt.

And now? —to graceful humility.

Yes, our resurrection is foreseen

In the light—of all our children’s

Friendships, courtship, and  dreams!

Yes, of course, why? — late we sleep

Sleeping through the night

And not awakened with history’s presence.

—Bringing us constantly to our knees

In guilt, in weakened humility? And now

In our need

Gracefully show us what to do

And show me  how.

***

Note: Thinking about the Churches, and all common belief  or non-belief  religions.                                               I grew up… with Jesuits giving me my early education, the Southern Baptists gave me my enthusiasm, the Roman Catholics gave me discipline, the friends Service Committee gave me peace, and Zen gave me enlightenment… I’m sure that is the same process for all families of their personal Faith and the path they take . I believe, we need to move into some ACTION … it should not be our surprise to submit our “Just” presence into injustice. Whether as a group, or as an individual. All the “me” (meeeez) become us.

 
9 Comments

Posted by on February 4, 2017 in bullying, Existential, ignorance, Love, poems, Spiritual, Zen

 

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On A Sacred Day’s Accounting

Whatever day we set aside

At the end of, or, beginning of our week,

Will always be a spiritual— personal day.

 

Regardless of religion, or non-religion—

Somehow, that day, in our lives, has survived

As One day— to be set aside.

 

Reflection, repentance, acceptance;

Encouraging us to continue living

In mutual peace— for the rest of future

Day’s— accounting.

                Sand Dollar: Sketch in charcoal.

Sand Dollar:
Sketch in charcoal.

 
14 Comments

Posted by on January 21, 2017 in Beginnings, Love, Poetry, Spiritual, Zen

 

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