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

Candle in my Lantern

The candle in my lantern
burns days, years and nights.
Thoughts of being lost
flickers the flame to fright.
Memories of my lover’s
pale, musky loins sways
its pointy tip to dizziness with
swoons of rapturous flights.
The idea of his demise nearly
strips the spirit off its wick.

So I soften to pictures of
pleasant, sunny trips;
lolling hammocks
between two strong trees
near a gurgling, mossy creek.
Yet the flame still falters,
feeling turmoil from some distant shoal.
Only when I cease yearning
does its white spear hold center,
filling the breath within me
with his hot, clear glow.

Springing Clean

Chuck the cluttered
basement of it’s crusty junk.
Give clothes to charity,
so new memories may flutter
along wrinkled threads
which languished in trunks.

Spritz your spirit
with eau de new leaf.
Shine your shoes
with gratitude.
Don’t forget
each breath is a thief
with a gift of another,
and a chance
for a fresh attitude.
Shed your grudges.
Dust off your virtues.
Ring a clear bell
in a zingy new key.
Spring clean and clear
of your long gray shadow,
sallow and pasty
in Winter sheaf.
Hope Springs Eternal.
‘Tis the Season to Renew.

Happy Spring Equinox!

Seasonal Poems to Warm the Soul

Happy Winter Solstice! I may not be religious in the traditional sense, but I understand and cherish the importance of the “spirit of the season”.

As many of you know, Jesus wasn’t born in December, but his birthday was placed near the pagan Roman holiday of Saturnalia by Constantine to encourage pagans to join the church. The celebration of light and rebirth appeals to all.

Over the years I’ve written various poems for the season. Some are just ruminations on the mood, some are about the solstice, but all, I think convey universal sentiments. I’ve linked to some and printed others in a list here. Enjoy.

—
Rhythms of the Seasons
—
Noël
—
Sacrificial Tree (two poems)
—
Jingle Ironies
—
A Simple Gift
—

Inspire Beauty

Beauty calls and yearns for your attention,
it gives rise and dimension to your soul,
a reflection of your truest goals.

Lest we forget, our hearts are fueled
by a love enduring beyond our lives.
And beauty is its chaperon,
a spark through the dark nights
on the long walk
to the light of the mountain top.

All we have is each other.

May the comfort of love be with you.

An Inch of an Odyssey

I like Taoist thought. You know, yin and yang, light and dark, how they always balance and counteract each other. I also love the idea that all distance is the same relative to infinity. This poem explores these ideas a bit.

An inch of an odyssey takes infinite time
Forever toward it
Forever undone, forever undone, ever undone
Assuming an end is presuming a beginning
Look where you’ve been. You look! You see!
Then wonder “Where on earth am I going?”
Preparing for death frees the wind
to sigh, breathing a soft, new breeze
blowing a tender new bud, unique seedling

Our days and our nights
Swallow each other whole-
Lune lusts for shadow chased Helios
There is no up, there is no down,
Nor back to the belly, nor the crown.
Only forward we lean to fall, grind, roll,
Heave atop the vanishing moment
Hop the lilting merrygoround.

Maps crumble into soot
pinched thin by greasy fingers
peddling false, painted mirrors.
Furrowed, worn paths fell us safely
To known, well trodden soil, dense, smooth, glossed
Away from the path to the effervescent fields
The path through the marshes, ripe, rank and raw
Away from the path beyond to gardenia festooned hills
There is no end, no beginning
Day and night flashes-
Tingling fragrant sparks
In our hearts.