Thanksgiving Poem

This poem was written by my partner and lover of 9 years, Ralf. Though english is not his first language, he always had a way with words. (he is German) His spirit taught me so much about attitude and perseverance. He is an old soul. Though we are no longer together, I believe we still have a connection. I am honored and gratified to have been his lover. Thank you, Ralf. With love, David

Happy Thanksgiving to all my friends out there. I hope you have warm, smiling eyes to gaze into and laugh with as you break bread together on this most universal of holidays.

Thanksgiving is a moment to remember
How little we can do to move the stars.
All we are and have we must surrender,
Nor is Earth less inscrutable than Mars.
Knowing this, we know the need for friends
Sharing both our pleasures and our pain,
Giving, though it may not serve their ends,
In joy the love that will our love sustain.
Very much like water in a lake,
In sum we serve as mirrors to the sky.
No one alone can heaven’s picture take.
Given friends, we know the reason why.

by Ralf

Places Too Close

There are places he’d rather not go,
closets where clothes are too tight,
pants with belt buckles which still latch
to the shortest length, but now
he can’t hold his breath that long
anymore. He wants to be padded with
Pillsbury dough, something to grab
when hands are available to grope
his half century folds of skin
dessicated and pinched from too much sin.
His big heart chokes the tight collar.
He feels safer in the puppet theater, where
the extra strings keep him from floating
away from so much hot air.
Watch him standing in the sun, waiting
alone for the train north, not willing
to make eye contact for long.
Smile and lift him without saying
a word.

I wrote this after seeing the movie ‘Into the Wild’ by Sean Penn. The poem is not so much about the movie as how I related to it. It’s about frustration with social artifice and the strictures of decorum, within which one wonders how much real love and spontaneous feeling is lost. It’s about feeling limited by discomfort in that system and also about wanting to just fit in and be one’s self.

Chamber of Peace

The phrase “chamber of peace” was coined by a friend, Orbella, during a discussion of methods and meditations on balance and spirit. We all need a place of safety and peace to which we can retreat, either from the world or, in some cases, from our own doubts and insecurities.

Amid the clutter of pots and pans
clanging in the kitchen, caked with dried
leftover soups and liver paté,
leaving rough, raw hands…

Amid brassy pitches
of out of tune bands clamoring
for attention, strident dissonances
shorting the circuits of all switches…

Despite snags and tears,
bleeding cuts and bruises
on body and skin from shards
of bitter thoughts and cares,

paralyzed by leaden fears, clogged
emotions stuck half way
up the pipes, trembling,
wheezing through the fog,

daring not to stare too long
at heavy, brown clouds,
daring not to covet their rain
for its fresh, cleansing songs…

Within these brambles,
these thorned villages
cramped along thin rails,
barely seen amid the shambles,

there resides a place,
cool and hidden, reposed
within the cacophony,
filled with grace.

When feelings become impermeable and stuttered
we can resort to this floating chamber,
retreat to its valleys of peace
and breathe deep, clear air, unfettered.

Signage and whistles
retreat to the distance,
snares and hissing cymbals
are barely missed.

Here the quiet music is sweet,
while vistas of a rising moon
browse over murmuring fields
singing with golden wheat.

Pastel petals of fragrant gardenias
fall from the sky, brush our cheeks,
crave the pain from it’s
wretched peaks.

Ravaged skin is smoothed with creams,
burned vision is soothed with drops
of moist, sweet oils
from the purest dreams.

If fear preys yet again
with curling shadows,
talons spread in quivering threat,
it is allowed to pass clear through us,

for we are transparent
through every cell, invisible,
quenched of thirst, unfurled
heart filled with love inherent.

Skin sheds boundaries,
wounds heal as pain dissolves.
Never tired, never trembling
we claim our inner country.

Within this purposeful place,
we find our heart’s intentions.
Cleansed, free and infinite,
we reveal Spirit’s delight.

A Simple Gift

Let it Out!
Let a smile overcome you-
a simple gift
which heals deeply
and welcomes another in return.

Tell a story of
your Life with the meaning you give it.
Let it out!
Open the gushing faucet
and savor the Joyful Child within you.

technorati tags- happy poems, joy, christmas poems, joy poems

Chamber of Peace

The phrase “chamber of peace” was coined by a friend, Orbella, during a discussion of methods and meditations on balance and spirit. We all need a place of safety and peace to which we can retreat, either from the world or, in some cases, from our own doubts and insecurities.

Amid the clutter of pots and pans
clanging in the kitchen, caked with dried
leftover soups and liver paté,
leaving rough, raw hands…

Amid brassy pitches
of out of tune bands clamoring
for attention, strident dissonances
shorting the circuits of all switches…

Despite snags and tears,
bleeding cuts and bruises
on body and skin from shards
of bitter thoughts and cares,

paralyzed by leaden fears, clogged
emotions stuck half way
up the pipes, trembling,
wheezing through the fog,

daring not to stare too long
at heavy, brown clouds,
daring not to covet their rain
for its fresh, cleansing songs…

Within these brambles,
these thorned villages
cramped along thin rails,
barely seen amid the shambles,

there resides a place,
cool and hidden, reposed
within the cacophony,
filled with grace.

When feelings become impermeable and stuttered
we can resort to this floating chamber,
retreat to its valleys of peace
and breathe deep, clear air, unfettered.

Signage and whistles
retreat to the distance,
snares and hissing cymbals
are barely missed.

Here the quiet music is sweet,
while vistas of a rising moon
browse over murmuring fields
singing with golden wheat.

Pastel petals of fragrant gardenias
fall from the sky, brush our cheeks,
crave the pain from it’s
wretched peaks.

Ravaged skin is smoothed with creams,
burned vision is soothed with drops
of moist, sweet oils
from the purest dreams.

If fear preys yet again
with curling shadows,
talons spread in quivering threat,
it is allowed to pass clear through us,

for we are transparent
through every cell, invisible,
quenched of thirst, unfurled
heart filled with love inherent.

Skin sheds boundaries,
wounds heal as pain dissolves.
Never tired, never trembling
we claim our inner country.

Within this purposeful place,
we find our heart’s intentions.
Cleansed, free and infinite,
we reveal Spirit’s delight.