Words are birds
that take flight
with everything you write
they ride the wind
all free to fly
in the blink of an eye
into the blue sky
words travel as far
as the north star
and as fast as a race car
civilizations built on words
by nerds
who believed they could fly
like birds
***
Northern lights and purple nights
aurora borealis colors in the night sky
a palette for the gods to paint
and beautify
and
forests and plains forever green
the most beautiful day ever seen
flowing fields of verdant grass
grassy knolls en masse
under the sun’s brilliant sheen
lies a blanket of emerald green
***
Satchmo singing”What a wonderful world” in a corner of the 1950’s themed diner that never closes down
a mythical diner that attracts great musicians and singers from all around
Jelly Roll Morton rubbing elbows with Duke Ellington at the red bar
the two legends watching Buddy Holly perform from afar
Little Richie, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Fats Domino
hanging out but looking for somewhere else to go
Roy Orbison and Elvis Presley
looking over at Billie Holiday and Peggy Lee
Diane Ross and Janis Joplin playing Liar’s Dice
while old Blue Eyes, Frank Sinatra, tries to be nice
so he can stay in this musical paradise
we all need a hobby for our happy place
a refuge from our daily routine
another way to express our ourselves
by playing a guitar or a tambourine
crafting clever things out of clay
writing in a journal or writing a poem
free to express yourself in any way
there’s no boundaries
for hobbies
Is what I’m trying to say
spend time for yourself
and make your day
I can tell when people tell lies
with these eyes
their body movements a tell
making it easy to see
for an old man like me
decades of experience resides
compartmentally
in my brain
lurking behind my tired eyes
I’ve seen the horror
of war
I keep it behind a door
behind these eyes
I look forward
to each new day
putting aside yesterday
a daily exercise
behind these
still alert
eyes
when love turns to ash
it sometimes happens
in a flash
meanwhile
the driver in the crash
saw his entire life go by
in a flash
while
his dreams
of a treasure cache
were dashed
in a flash
finally
he left behind a lot of cash
but his wife gambled it away
in a flash!
the writer waited until he hit a century
before releasing the rights to his diary
while flipping through the pages one night
his still-active imagination took flight
and he was a young man again
as far as he could ascertain
and a young lady came near
and whispered in his ear
they went for a walk
and had a lovely talk
and
when the writer’s son
came to visit the next day
the old man had passed away
with a smile on his face
that showed
he was in a better place
when technology found a way to start a flame with a flick of the finger
the lighter emerged like a metal Prometheus sharing the secret of fire
with designs that reflected the times, lighters lit the way for cigarette and cigar smokers to conveniently fire up wherever they were
the styles evolved over the years reflecting society’s luxuries and utilities
from the start, lighters have told a story about their owners history
carrying their burdens for the world to see
lighters have more purposes now than ever before
they’re cheap, flashy, and in every store
lighters can be works of fine art
or cartoonish art
there’s so many designs to see
that reflect our history
I leave you with the following three…
chocolate ice cream and fudge sprinkled with a strawberry glaze, reading books, watching movies, playing board games on boring days,
dancing under the light of the moon, swimming naked in a hidden lagoon, wearing a funny costume
becoming a parent, politician, or playwright, creating a website, swimming in eternity pools all night,
prizes for running, jumping, and winning at Jeopardy, traveling to memorable places like France and Normandy, flying in planes that only hold three,
riding camels and horses in an exotic land, witnessing Yellowstone National Park’s geysers firsthand, walking on Mali’s white sand
hiking through the jungles of Peru, riding in a canoe, and learning Spanish too,
going to sports events, eating cabbage after it ferments, and living in tents,
but there’s got to be more
on some distant shore
my soul cries out
forevermore
who are poems for?
the wealthy or the poor?
or is it possible
there’s more?
emphatically, yes!
they’re for everyone
to access
poems are gifts to share
with the rest of us
anywhere
who enjoy a poetic flair
watching words take wing
rhyming with everything
flights of imagination
with every narration
comes from poetry
like leaves from a tree
we gather them up
into our memory
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