Eighteen Theme

I hadn't written any poetry yet for 2018, but today it simply began to flow and I just went with it. I think the theme of 2018 is going to be rest and restoration, and what brings that about is beauty and joy and delight. So, I hope that this piece will get your year started off in a great direction, and may you know all that is good in this upcoming year. :)

Eighteen Theme

I have felt a call from the ancients

To come and see where I came from
To join in and listen to the songs, the prayers

The sayings, the wisdom

Things that were thought long-forgotten

But, no, 

They still live deeply within our very souls

I hear the bass tones, stirring

My heart cries out, “Go there, go there now!”

Of course all the science behind my brow

Just rolls its eyes in a slumber

A slumber induced by the intoxicating opiate

Of pride in the midst of ignorance

I have long since began walking toward the sound

I have just started to place my bare feet upon the ground

So that I can feel the touch of the earth,

The Sea

The Stone

Many would say all I do is roam

But there is a roaming with a purpose

To know what is sheer delight

It’s been a while since I’ve been out at night

Not to take in more of the same

But to look to the skies

To hear my name

Whispered through the eons of time

I can’t hear that unless I listen

I can’t see it unless I look

The sounds of the Merced river, brook

Still bring serenity to my aging ears

I put on peace and take off fears

So I can continue on the journey

I don’t want my life to be lived on a gurney

Being pushed and pulled 

Torn and worn

I want to live it on my bare feet

I might not get there very fast

I might not get there at all

But I will have seen the shades of fall

Turn my heart into an amber orange

Living in the colors is what really matters to me

And to live in the colors 

I have to see with my ears

Hear with my eyes

Be always expecting the gift of surprise

Be always expecting the gift of delight

Be always expecting the night and the light

Sun

Sun

I ride by the mystical mountains

upon a purely white, God-breathed note

I slip into His eternal chambers

with a single bright sound that He wrote

I allow my spirit to return quickly to Him

without shame I no longer hide

as I move into the fire of His sun

He moves me into this mythical ride

The myth is more than just happenstance

The truth is simply too much to flee

The throes of His love are simply too much to grasp

Until I realize their grasp is on me

I ride by the Mystic of mountains

resting on this purely God-breathed note

I lie here in His eternal chambers

being the song that He wrote

K, Duane Carter

Ice Sculptures

I see a throne, and He who sits on it is white and majestic

Children climbing to get into his lap

Angels attending at His side

His arms open wide

Hands held high beside

There is such wonder in His sculptures

And the Water keeps coming

Yes the Water keeps coming

His rhythm still drumming

The rhythm still drumming

I see a throne, and He Who sits on it is pure

The cross for joy He did endure

So I could see Him in all of these things

And clap in joy and wonder

K, Duane Carter 1-10-09