Grateful

Grateful

Ah, for so long I have tried to be the poet extraordinaire

But, alas, my books just sit on the shelf

Not going anywhere

I made all sorts of excuses

It’s the modern day

No one reads poetry anymore

There has to be a video

There has to be a meme

Vacillating from one to another extreme

I have finally realized

I’ve tried too hard to be someone I’m not

Do that for too long and your soul will rot

To the point where even you notice the smell

The stench, the pain, there is no gain,

The wrench

That finally breaks the bolts from the tightening

Then comes that feeling that is all too frightening

The feeling of panicked disarray

The feeling of floating in outer space

Knowing you’re a million light years from anywhere

And nowhere is where you’ll always be

Sure that floating feeling is free

But freedom without any boundary is nothing less

Than death by lonely wandering

And that death is very, very slow

How do I get past this vaudeville show?

I do not know, I do not know

This seems to be my favorite answer

More and more popular it becomes by the day

I’m told to read, I’m told to pray

Yet silence has forever greeted me

I wish I could be more upbeat

Instead of this deadpan sullen

Yet there are days where these perceptions must come forth

There are nights where the soul is broken

There are lives in which living is not seen

I think it’s time to find the green

The life that comes from seeking light

But I’ve said that all before

It’s almost become a daily chore

Not the majesty and the mystery that it should

I sit and stare at a piece of wood

Waiting for it to save me

Can I find true life within a tree

Is it living

Or is it dead?

These voices go on and on inside my head

I could probably go on like this forever

So before I drone on into a cumbersome blather

I am simply going to stop

To say

Thank you for this day

kdc, 6/8/19

Stillness

Stillness

I need days like today

Quiet

Dark

Raining

Cool

Pain surging through my lower back

With every little move

So stillness is the order of the day

No frenetic activity

No urgent motion

Just quiet sitting listening to the waters flow

Just listening to the heartbeat grow

Toward a restful anticipation of good

I sense these things amongst the woods

The forests of soul and spirit 

I hear the beckons, I might be near it

I might be far away

Yet I would know nothing of anything this rainy day

Without the colors of the quiet

Autumn leaves outside my window

Bright reminders of brighter days

Shorter, still

I gaze out from the windowsill

There is always a spring after the winter

My soul for so long broken, splintered

Now the humus is ready for growth

Up into that never seen, never known

Up into all that has been known by the ancients

Up into all that is made to be me

I see the stately redwood trees

Are still with steadfast smiles

They’ve never moved an inch, a mile

Yet they know the vastness of the oceans

Because they understand the life of stillness

Quiet

Dark

Raining 

Cool

I have a day in wisdom’s school 

I have a day in the stillness

And I am so grateful for it

11/27/18

Windowsill

I usually don't explain my poems, and this one today may seem so trivial and simple, but I must explain it. I live in Redding, CA where we just experienced one of the most devastating fires in California history. Entire neighborhood blocks are gone, burned to nothing but ash and rubble and chimneys. Burned out hulls of cars are still sitting in the garages, only recognizable by twisted and tortured ashen gray garage doors. The smoke is still thick and heavy. 38,000 people had to evacuate their homes. I had to gather my children around and tell them that we might lose everything we have.
So when we were allowed to return to our home, it was still there. I took time, though, to go to the places where the devastation was most significant, and I wept. I spent two nights preparing for the loss of everything, and I didn't lose anything. There are others who returned to a pile of ash where their beautiful homes had been. I know we often think of our "stuff" as just stuff but these places are where some of our most cherished memories are. These places are what we've poured out our hearts and souls into.
I hope I never forget the feeling I had when I first stepped into my home the day we returned. I can only describe it as an overwhelming gratitude. This is what I feebly attempted to capture, but as they always say, "I can't put it into words."  And that's ok. Those are the truly meaningful times of life. So, with that, here is "Windowsill."


Windowsill
I see my plants in the windowsill
And I am thankful
I walk across the wooden floors
Carpets maligned
I am thankful indeed
I pass some clothes the children have strewn on the floor
Gratefulness
These simple things of life aren’t smoke in the air
They are daily reminders that life is very good indeed
For that I am forever thankful
For the simple greenery in the windowsill
For the simple greenery in the windowsill
8/11/18

The Choosing

The Choosing

I’m at a place of mental exhaustion

And that’s a very humiliating thing for me to say

I’ve always been proud of my ability to handle adversity

Chaos, struggle were great unknowns

Now I find myself hardly able to remember my name

Is this the way it must be when all is the same

When all is a frenzied rendition?

Maybe so

Maybe not

I refuse to enter the world of dry rot

The place where all is a beggar

The place where all one seeks is pleasure

Where all one finds is pain

I am not going there

I rather decide to see what is before me

A rising sun, a setting moon

A simple lunch I take at noon

These things brings a spark of the grateful into my soul

This is a step toward me being whole

Simply being thankful for the good around me

I understand there is frantic and frenetic maelstrom

But I also know there is dancing and music

So I choose to imbibe in the latter

Relishing a glass of California wine

Listening to the weavings of the Ponderosa pine

Allowing beauty to alter my course

I can feel the breezes from the oceans

Thanksgiving 2016

Thanksgiving 2016

Sometimes it’s simply good

To relax

To do nothing

But listen

Listen well

Listen to classic Christmas songs

Enjoy the sound of rain on the rooftop

Hear the joys of warmth from a fire

These are the things that make life, life

The things that aren’t gotten with violence or storm

Or maybe they were

Maybe my moment of silent repose

Was paid for by another long ago

Maybe it was

So in all of this perusal

Of what was and what could have been and what is

I will be thankful for the stillness

Thankful for the one who withstood calamity

So that I could be a poet

In the here and now