I dream a lot

I dream a lot, and plot and scheme

And think of clever things to say and clever ways to say them

Sometimes when I am brave I wander over to you

Dropping my carefully construed dialogue along the way

And smile and wonder where I put my words and panic

And say something stupid

Then I make an excuse as I can do that pretty well now

As I have had lots of practice

And I walk back over to my side of the bar

Or my group of friends

Or to my little apartment

And I find my words and my dreams

There on the floor for me to kick

Like some imaginary can

So many plots and schemes and clever things to say

So many times when I am brave but not brave enough

To say I want you.

Written 1997- For my Deana

April 17th PAD Entry

 Prompt: All I Want is…..

All I want is that mouse to die

He has been eating the food that I set out for my dog

Stupid dog, will not kill the mouse

Wish I had a cat

Stupid dog lets it eat his food

I think they are friends

I go to the store, they have built better mousetraps

At least that is what the shelves say

So many options but what will work

What can I buy that will get the mouse and not my dog

Not poison, no, the dog will find the poisoned mouse and eat it

It would eat a poison mouse for sure, stupid dog

So a trap then, but I can see him now running around the house

Yelping with a trap on his nose, stupid dog

Glue? Stick little mouse feet to a pad of glue

Could work, should work, but then the dog

His face glued down with the mouse side by side

Little black eye staring into large brown one

Live traps, little cages, but then what?

Release him out into the wild or the neighbor’s yard

Throw it into some water the package reads

I have visions of little bubbles escaping a cute pink nose

Time to buy a cat.

 

April 16th PAD Challenge Entry

Prompt: A Color

Brown

The people who come to the desert always describe it as brown

They leave their lush green surroundings and are shocked by the browness of it all

They speak of brown like it is a bad thing, the color of dead and dying plants

They like red sometimes, when it flares up in the rocks around the brown

You can take them to see the red rocks, some can appreciate that

But deserts are brown for a reason, not because the grass has died

It is brown because it is the raw and powerful color of the earth

They talk of all the hues of green, but brown has just as many forms

I have seen tan sands, rich dark brown alluvial fans, ochre colored cliffs

Brown is alone in all the colors that can join them and coexist

There are reddish browns, bluish browns, yellowish browns

You have never seen a greenish red have you?

I am surrounded by brown in all her majesty

So when I travel to watery places where plants grow and abound

When I say that it’s so green here, it is not in jealousy

I say it because I miss my earthy brown

April 15th PAD Entry

Prompt: Take the name of a poem you like and change it, then write a poem with the new title.

The Shooting Of Dan’s Left Shoe
(The Shooting of Dan McGrew, Robert Service)
Dan’s left shoe was shot one day
While Dan was out a hunting
I heard his partner Johnny say
That it was really something
They were after chukar in the rock
And climbing up a mountain
And Dan heard a chukar squawk
Below him where a spring did fountain
Now Dan was always quick to draw
Never careful with his aim
And Johnny said he never saw
His foot before the game.
The birds were all aground
But Dan wasn’t above a sluice
Beside Johnny was the only one around
And he was on the juice
So Dan he threw up his gun
And then he pointed it down
He aimed and then he fired one
Blast with a thunderous sound
Johnny said it took a while
For him to see what he had done
Then the pain wiped away his smile
Johnny said it wasn’t fun
Carrying Dan on down the hill
But I saw Dan stump out yesterday
Looking for chukar to kill
The first time you hunt chukar
You do it cuz it’s fun
The rest of the time you’re a sucker
Looking to revenge someone
But Dan’s out there limping around
Looking for more of the same
Chukar in the air or on the ground
Are a dangerous sort of game

April 14th PAD Entry

Prompt: Love

The doctor was there

In the room doing his work

I didn’t notice him

Or the nurse or anyone else

There were only two people

In the room at that moment

One was my wife, sweaty and exhausted

Her smile shining through despite her exertions

The other was my son

Red and squalling at the bright cold new world

I had cut the cord

Severed one tie

While two new ones were formed

I thought that I had known love

First kisses and midnight trists

In poems and confessions

In caring parents and family

In close friends and companions

In ceremonies and weddings

I was wrong.

This new person was here to prove that.

I looked at my wife and the miracle we now shared

His little hand wrapped tightly around my finger

He stopped crying

This is love, my heart sang.

They cleaned him and wrapped him

And carried him to her.

She held him and looked at me.

I put my arms around them

This is love, my heart sang

There is no moment that can equal

The arrival of a child

There is no love stronger

Years later in a different room

My daughter arrived

Shinning and new

Bright blue eyes stared into mine

This is love, my heart sang

Now they giggle and play

We watch them baffled by emotion

We look into each other’s eyes

This is love, our hearts sing.

April 13th PAD Entry

Prompt: Hobby

My hobby
I started with small animals when I was young
I wanted to see what made them work
So I took a knife and cut them apart
I started by flaying them
Peeling off the skin to see the muscles underneath
Then I sliced them down the middle and pulled their entrails out
I read the future in the messy results
I would do this again
It took a long time to get a larger animal
More complex animals took a lot of work
But I did what I had to do to get them
I put them up on my altar and sacrificed them
For knowledge and for pleasure.
It thrilled my mind like no other thing
I was obsessed, I could not stop
It was all that I could think about
It was everything I wanted
I loved slicing down to the bone
To see where the ligaments attached
I took notes and made drawings with my bloody hands
I remember clearly the first woman
I remember looking into her cold dead eyes and thanking her for her gift
Such a precious gift to me,
I worked on her for a long time
When I was done with her there was no organ I had not touched
No muscle, no tissue that I did not know
It was wonderful
Now it is over
All the years of cutting and pinning
The examining and questing for knowledge
Now they call me doctor
I am here to save your life.

April 11th PAD Entry

Prompt: An Object

It is a golden band

On the top there is a Square and Compass set in blue

On the sides there are working tools and acacia

Ancient symbols; their meanings have been explained to me three times

I have explained them to other men too many times to count

I have placed this ring on the heads of men and prayed with them

I have placed this ring on the hands of men and made them my Brothers.

I have wrapped this ring around a gavel and called a craft to order.

I wear the ring, to remind me of my obligations.

Engraved inside the ring are initials,

 Only visible when I take it off, a secret, within a secret

The initials, they are not mine.

They belong to my Grandfather, but the ring does not.

Nor does the ring belong to me.

It belongs to my son, when he is old enough.

And to his son or grandson, and down the line it will pass.

A golden band, a reminder, a link in an eternal chain

So that while I wear it I must ensure that my actions

Are not only worthy of the man I received it from,

But to the men I will be giving it to.

April 10th PAD Entry

Prompt: Friday

A day used to be such a long time

A night could last forever

Now  months  can pass in the blink of an eye

Years cascading around me

Where does the time go?

What have I done?

This week, this month, this year?

It all seems so hectic.

I drive relentlessly forward.

Pushing with all my energy

Through time that carries me on

Whether I like it or not

I create rapids on still waters

Another day another week

Another Friday marks the end

Or the beginning

Of my days.

April 9th PAD Entry

Prompt. A memory

Memory Maker

We were walking down a hill,

In a group, a pack, a knot.

We had been in England for a month and a half.

Halfway done with summer. Everything was so green.

Halfway done with the trip. We had all become such close friends.

We were going from the school to the pub.

The Black Griffin, what a fantastic name for a pub.

It reminded me of a fantasy novel where all the characters meet in the beginning.

The trip wasn’t over and wouldn’t be for a long time.

But I found myself wondering what I would remember.

Which memories would stick and which wouldn’t?

I had to lose some.

The pint of Guinness waiting for me at the pub assured me of that.

Which would stay? There were so many I desired to keep.

I made a list of the things I would not forget in my mind.

I did my best to remember them.

I can’t remember them, well not all of them.

I can remember clearly, walking down a hill.

PAD Challenge Thoughts

I would like to appologize to everyone for not posting anything but the poem a day challenge poems. I wanted this blog to be about writing, not a poetry book.

I am enjoying the challenge, it’s fun to get a prompt and crank out a quick poem about it. I am flattered by your comments. The fun thing about poetry is that it is a very personal expression, that if written well, evokes very personal feelings in the reader. To me it is an attempt to connect us together in our universal human experience. When it works, we are moved, we love it. When it doesn’t work it seems like egocentric drivel.

I have been reading the other poem a day posts (http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides click on the comments to see the posts.) Some are amazing works, there are some amazing writers out there, but most just seem like self gratuitous words piled on themselves, it is boring and tedious to read.

I know I am not the greatest poet. I am not here to bore you. It is fun for me to write poetry, and hopefully fun for someone to read but my goal is to write and publish a novel. I want to be a novelist not a poet. Anyone can be a poet, not everyone can write a novel.

So I promise that I will be posting up some “On Topic” posts soon along with the 21 remaining poems of the challenge.