Fignewtons of My Imagination

Fluctuation

2012-02-12T17:06:00.001-07:00

FLUCTUATION

The ebb and flow of springs,
govern the nature of my dreams.
In and out of them I go,
my mind a great cosmic yo-yo!
As the universe expands and contracts,
and the stars surge to and fro,
I'm tossed about on pulsing sea
(the shifting winds ignore my tacks!);
and find myself on unknown sand
carried here by waves and moon-drawn tides
from that reef on which the siren sings.
Sang or wailed, I know not which;
first high then low; now, every pitch.
Into my see-sawing thoughts she inserts herself,
as nights and days pass o'er this land.
Am I this man whose feet I see?
Or is it that I'm all that surrouds me?
The joining of silence and cacophony.

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mindbringer, 12 February 2012

Dread

2012-02-12T16:08:00.000-07:00

Concubine,
twiddles with a ball of twine;
dreading his summons.

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mindbringer, February 12, 2012

Carried Away On A Dream

2012-01-28T14:49:00.000-07:00

CARRIED AWAY ON A DREAM

If only I could once touch her face,
I would instantly be
transported from this place.

To one of fancy, of pure romancie.

Awed by her beauty, I would, in any case,
dance to the sonorous beat of love's duty.

Clumsily, as if tangled in sea-rusted chains.

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mindbringer, 28 January 2012

Knowledge

2012-01-15T08:37:00.000-07:00

Is there an art to happiness?
Ask the laughing man standing in the snow.
He will surely know.

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mindbringer, 15 January 2012

Artificial

2012-01-15T08:06:00.002-07:00

ARTIFICIAL

The streetlight gazes at me,
throwing off its glow
in an orange blinding haze.

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mindbringer, 15 January 2012

Hologram

2012-01-14T14:27:00.000-07:00

Our world,
giant hologram
floating in space-time.

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mindbringer, 14 January 2012

Plans

2012-01-02T15:28:00.000-07:00

Ice dam;
heavy and cold.
Interferes with my plan.

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mindbringer, 2 January 2012

Ancient Dreams

2011-10-30T13:05:00.001-06:00

ANCIENT DREAMS

In ancient days, in lands far flung,
great tales were told and songs were sung.
Of hereoes strong and tall
and ladies fair and bold.

An age of dragons and kings
and magical rings.
When good men by their might
sought to do what was right.

Amongst these was the lowly poet.
It was by his mighty quill
these heroic tales were wrought.
He who laid down the lays of old,
who put down lines and rhymes
and brought to us these ancient times.

A world now removed from thought
but then real as the men whou fought.
From castles and by moated wall
many a brave knight would fall
and leave his family alone.
Alone to weep and to moan
o'er sweet memories sewn
and of lives undone.

Though the battle was won,
many a dream was broken and lost
and at such a high and bloody cost!

For us here in modern times,
snug in safe beds and homes,
having read the ancient tomes
of battles and lives long since past;
for us we have dreamt
that their memories might last.
Last into a future far from
olden times and hero rhymes,
far from dragons and of kings
and golden magic rings.

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mindbringer, 30 October 2011

Hendrix

2011-10-08T16:34:00.000-06:00

HENDRIX

Notes of pain,
notes ofjoy
fell down like rain.

If not so coy,
they could drive one insane.

Life so short,
so tragically brief.
At least his time on Earth was sweet.

Drugs and alcohol the music did abort.
Though still left with his absence, grief,
his songs we have to play, repeat.

He could hold notes so long!
Woodstock was his swan song.
With blues he made his guitar weep,
under your skin his riffs would creep.

Though Grim Reaper appears to have won,
his greatness and legacy still live on.

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mindbringer, 8 October 2011

The Count

2011-10-08T13:52:00.000-06:00

THE COUNT

Starry night,
white-scarred neck.
One last bite...

--------------------------
mindbringer, 8 Oct. 2011

In A Barn

2011-09-25T13:08:00.000-06:00

IN A BARN

The shortening days of lemonade summers
herald the green season's end
wherein the yellow dandelions fade
and columbines' scent is no longer sent.

Where spiders their silken webs they do mend
and shouts of ballfield boys so resound.
Where bicycles round the last block
and head for lazy river's great bend.
When poets' thoughts are inwardly bound
and farmers of their harvest take stock.

Where daffodils and old windmills
play in the warm and breezy wind.
To bluejay's scream the ear doth lend.
The buzzing bees and willow trees
pay notice to geese who've begun to take air
and memories fade of the Stone County fair.

While old cattails stand their futile watch
and temperature slowly creeps down a notch.
Fall and her coming colors seep,
flaming reds and some reluctant yellow
while cider in the barrels mellow.

I spied an old barn a ways off in a dale!
It is of it I tell thee in this my short tale.
I meandered toward it as if drawn but resisting.
I did not really have the time -
but it kept on insisting.

Conspicuous, the barn revelled in its redness.
Contemptuous, the cottonwood seeds
floated through the air
without the slightest worry
or remotest care,
while reflecting the slanting late day sun.

As daylight waned I began to hurry,
feeling an urgent sense of gladness.
As I quickly walked through the tall grass,
whole armies of grasshoppers leaped up as if one.
Tree frogs and crickets were croaking and chanting.

The barn's door hung open on one hinge, as if beckoning.
I hesitated then went inside the strange barn
not sure if what waited there for me
was involvement or reckoning.

Deepening involement in mankind and nature,
or reckoning for shortcomings of my past.

A feeling of impending doom
weighted down my steps,
but it did not last.
I soon awoke to the miraculous room;
miracles of life,
miracles to share.
Cows and goats, chickens and horses,
made their homes there.

A likeable, seemingly friendly old barn!
I realized that this was all happening now.
No dreams of the past, the future not here.
This and the moos of the cow
brought me great cheer.
I controlled my wild thoughts
concentrating all on the now.

I heard nothing except the rise of my breath,
the beats of my heart,
the bleats of livestock,
the crickets, the frogs
and the wind through the trees.
All governed by Nature's inexorable clock.

Then this owl it let out a hoot;
it gave me quite a start!
I tripped and I fell upon some old logs,
scraping my knees and losing one boot.
I hit my head hard, flashed before me my death.
What angel did I appease,
that helped me now not to depart?

I shakily stood in the midst of the barn.
A barn that seemed more quiet than before.
I looked back at the door.
It was still quite ajar,
but looked as if it now was quite far.

The fields of my extended mind shrank down,
down until just 'round my body.
The sounds of life gradually receded to silence.
All I now heard was the sound of my breath.
In through my nostrils and out again and again.
Breathe in the sufferings of all mankind,
breathe out the healing thoughts from inside.

I closed my eyes and focused on nothing.
Just me in a barn.
All one and all now.

-----------------------------------------
mindbringer, 25 September 2011

Dead Ships

2011-09-24T22:45:00.000-06:00

DEAD SHIPS

The shining edge of the world,
where seas are tossed and swirled.
The place where ships go to die.
Turn to rust.
Fall into dust.

Not to carry lusty men
under an angry sky
into iniquity's den;
a bold and tempting port renown
where many a sailor has been brought down.

Those that stormy waters did not drown,
or brown palm-tree girls lure away.

Salty dogs, these seamen be,
that God has seen fit to save,
Of ships that sail the steel-gray seas
and ride with dolphins on the wave
and chase the whales of history
into the shining edges of the world.

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mindbringer, 24 September 2011

Absence

2011-09-17T12:35:00.000-06:00

Still mind,
silent sea.
Reflective moon.
Silent mind,
still sea.

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mindbringer, 17 September 2011

Hail

2011-06-10T07:42:00.002-06:00

HAIL

Shredded leaves,
glass in shards.
Hail so hard it cleaves.

-----------------------------
mindbringer, 9 June 2011

Absence of Silence

2011-05-18T08:25:00.000-06:00

ABSENCE OF SILENCE

noise in my ear
noise all around
even noise underground
sometimes it seems
that noise is all you hear

at least that's how it seems...

then when it is quiet
you still hear background noise
and when it is not
things get as loud as a riot

enough to make one lose their poise...

this neverending all pervasive noise.

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mindbringer, 17 May 2011

Farm Waiting

2011-05-13T13:14:00.000-06:00

FARM WAITING
The farm, ignoring passerby,
continues to grow crops.
Fields of wheat, barley and rye.
Soon-to-be pork chops
wander the muddy pits.

Where? Down on the farm.

Cat carries her kits,
mouth too full for mice.
Freshly plowed earth
waits to be sown
with beets or wild rice.
There is no dearth
of things to be known.

There, down on the farm.

Chickens hunt and peck,
spread across the earthen deck.
Sheep waiting to be shorn
look lonely and forlorn
under a tarp all tattered and torn.
Crows wait for scarecrow to move
so they can eat their fill of corn.

Somewhere down on the farm.

Spiders reside in old barn's corners
looking to spin their webs of silk.
Intrigue filling the space
as if haunted by dark foreigners.
Closeline full of linen and lace.
Cows, mooing, wait to be milked.

Here, down on the farm.

Old, green tractor sits out in the field
waiting for its master to fire her up.
Bundles of hay lay nearby all tied up and sealed.
Ready for use as future feed
by whomsoever has the need
to eat and sup.
Pastured horses neigh,

hungry, down on the farm.

Garden waits for water,
near the farmhouse,
by farmer's daughter.
Doing what she oughter
she woke up early,
all perky and bright.
Hair aglow in the sun,
Oh! what a sight.

Lovely, down on the farm.

Rooster crows on cue.
Mut of a dog, barking,
does not know what to do.
Smoke curls from tin flue
breakfast for the farmer
fries on wood stove.
Here, close to the ferry
nearby the quiet cove,
the morning sun warms all who wait.

Waiting for the noble farmer,
hands gnarled, callused and rough,
face lined, but happy and tough,
here in these early spring days
waiting for the dog days of summer.

Waiting here down on the farm.

The farmer rises and greets the day,
rises from his front porch throne.
Now in his zone, coffee in hand,
he walks forth,
forth towards his farm.

The wait is over, down on the farm.

--------------------------------
mindbringer, 13 May 2011

Old Paint

2011-05-12T06:43:00.000-06:00

OLD PAINT
Luster lost long ago,
the stars still seen in it.
In morning's glow
it peels off old boards,
fading into history.

No longer shiny,
dew still glistens on it.
Telling a long story,
one of war, ladies and lords.

Flaking, it greets the new dawn
with appropriate disdain.
Still shedding rain.
Silently confirming the end of all things.

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mindbringer, 11 May 2011

Rush, Our

2011-05-04T07:03:00.000-06:00

RUSH, OUR

Perched on high,
Red-winged Blackbirds spy
while down below
newborn ducklings waddle,
just-born goslings march
filing behind parents honking.

A hawk lands on top of a tall post
to better seek out his prey while
another glides low to the ground
hoping to flush out a wary prairie dog.
Rabbits pause listening for unseen dangers,
ears twitching.

Marshland waters sparkle through the low fog
as morning traffic drives through the senenity
on the way to a hectic work day.
No time to stop and play,
the cars and trucks
pass by ducks;
drivers glancing
but not really seeing.

Trees full of gackles cackling
are not heard.
Commuters scurry by cows and horses grazing,
gulls circling, waters trickling.
Quickly they drive,
Hhrrying towards that soon forgotten meeting.

Rushing, they leave their precious children
in the hands of strangers.

Who is really the herd here?

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mindbringer, 4 May 2011

Forward, Spring!

2011-03-12T10:00:00.001-07:00

FORWARD, SPRING!

Sun-slanting Sunday afternoon.
Dust-motes glimmering,
after such a windy morning,
floating in the warm breeze.
The tall Cottonwood's seeds
making their way towards hope;
hoping for a new birth,
white in the light.

Haunting cry of distant loon,
Cook-fire simmering,
Jays giving warning.
All nature meeting its needs,
on this glorious day they seize!
Two robins decide to elope.
Of life here and now, there is no dirth;
wonderous is the sight.

Full, early-rising moon,
far Saturn's ring,
sky so clear that both they tease.
Wind-swaying willows and cattail reeds
snake their way up thru marsh like rope.
Ducks waddling to give wide berth.
All seen here is good and right!

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mindbringer, 12 March 2011

Predetermined

2011-02-22T07:51:00.000-07:00

PREDETERMINED

In and out and round about,
a line of fate goes on and on.
Sucking in those nearby
on its inevitable course.
The standerbys can only
stare and watch from afar.

Watch as those others are pulled along
unknowing and, if they knew, unwilling.
Preferring freedom of choice, they
would protest loudly to all who would listen.

To all they pass they would shout
and show all the things they had won,
things that made them laugh or cry.
They would shout until they were hoarse,
as if by doing so they would not seem so lonely.
They pause to reflect at a local bar
joining the patrons in a rousing song
and feasting on fare both fast and filling.

But ere long they are pulled on their way
through a snow that, if not so dark, would glisten.

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mindbringer, 22 February 2011

Moonlit Loon

2011-01-21T07:31:00.000-07:00

MOONLIT LOON

The cry of the Loon, ancient and wild,
both mad and wonderful, echoed across the frozen land.
The effect on me was relaxed and beguiled
and to seek nature itself in the wet sand.

Tracking it, I found my soul
hanging in the evergreen
close by the moonlit trail.

The evening and I were whole.
Never have I seen
a scene so pale
as that in moonlight under gentle winds
when the Loon's peace he sends
hauntingly, lovely, ancient and wild.

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mindbringer, 21 January 2011

Pond Library

2010-12-31T14:26:00.000-07:00

POND LIBRARY

The ducks take flight all at once,
circling overhead to join the flock of gulls
already there. You can hear the roar of their wings,
the mix of quacking and gull sounds.
They quickly gain altitude and form their Vee,
but this was not all today I'd see.

From the mist a slender neck arose.
It gradually grew in length,
and turned into pure gracefullness.
Long legs took slow steps
looking for fish,its head cranes.
Blue Heron shimmering in the gentle rains.

Knifing into the still waters,
the Fisher speared his prey
amongst the cat-like tails
and many-colored daffodils.
Perched like King upon his log,
he ate his catch in thinning fog.

The sun, still low but, oh, so bright,
began to burn off morning's dew,
revealing a slithering Garter Snake
and Lilly Pads upon the lake.

Green pond scum parted way
for paddling, honking Canada Geese.
The purple, red and yellow Irises
lent their optimism
to a young Racoon parting the willows
and springing forth in masked delight
as he left behind the quiet night.

Frivolous like children,
the Dragonflies danced
their ancient rituals.
Red-winged Blackbirds darted 'round
amongst the blue-black Gackles
who dropped from branch to branch
cackling at one another
like old mother hens.
Crows chased after each other
from tree to tree
in the midst of sculptures of metal and stone.
These volumes are free, I do not own.

But others I do.

Hot brass of the incense burner
setting atop its padded cloth,
protector of finishes, amidst
books that spill down silent shelves
and plants bent over from ceiling's limit,
greet me upon my return from Bensons Pond.
On me the similarity had never dawned.

I put down my camera and take off my boots
and wonder at the sights I'd seen and see.
Pond and library so full of life,
both in the now and from the past.
The volumes greet me like an old lost friend
as my outward journey comes to an end.

Nevermore would I go forth
without the knowlede found in books
so at the pond or in the wilds
I know the names of what I see
their habits and their history.

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mindbringer, 31 December 2010

New Year Ringing In

2010-12-31T11:19:00.001-07:00

NEW YEAR RINGING IN

Some ring the New Year in
with champagne and bottles of gin.
Others watch Dick Clark on TV,
getting older evey New Year's Eve.
Some celebrate it with great fanfare,
like swimming in frozen lakes on a dare.
A million people gather in Times Square,
but millions more just sit in their chair.
Lovers must ensure that midnight kiss,
but for the loners it's hit or miss.
Many call loved ones on the phone,
shouting loudly in a gleeful tone:
"Happy New Years!"

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mindbringer, 31 December 2010

Far and Away

2010-12-30T09:34:00.000-07:00

FAR AND AWAY

Far away church steeple
looks down on people, small people,
each homeward bound from their Christmas journeys.
Distant sleighs put their riders at ease.
Skaters on frozen ponds spin round and round.
All so far away that there is no sound,
save the whispering winds
and the powdery snow it sends.

This winter scene calms my soul
as do those falling flakes of gentle snow.
A valley with a small town, as if in a bowl,
sleepily at rest since, wisely, they know
that they are in a place of which many a heart dreams,
Currier and Ives dreams, visions it seems,
a small part of what Heaven may be.

All far and away from me,
here on my hill next to the gray sea,
fully present in this dream moment I
as this day's sweet evening grows nigh.

--------------------------------------------
mindbringer, 30 December 2010

Brief Storm

2010-10-18T13:59:00.000-06:00

BRIEF STORM

Downcast eyes,
golden thighs.
One heart flies,
another cries.
Emotions rise,
mere words no one buys,
or worse than those, white lies.
So many tries,
elusive prize.
Then anger dies,
yells turn into sighs!
Love fits just one size,
bond that breaks all ties,
under gray October skies,
amidst the scent of apple pies.

----------------------------
mindbringer, 18 October 2010