Friday, August 14, 2009

TURNING THE CORNERS


TURNING THE CORNERS

Excitement, pulse racing sitting
In the saddle, crowd cheering while
They await her and her horse's run
The smell of horses, leather and dust
Filling her senses with the arena's
Atmosphere as she awaits the moment
To start, then bursting forth, she makes
The three turns and spurs her horse to
The finish line, heart pounding as she
Awaits the time and score for her run
Her life is the arena and the horses,
The adrenaline and the thrill of victory
The pain is just a part of the victory
A part of the fiddler's price for listening
To the music that is pro rodeo riding
Then slowly life changes, motherhood
Reigns instead of horses reins she has
Turned a life corner and is heading a
New direction now, though she doesn't
Fully realize it as of yet, she still spurs
On toward the next barrel, the next
Turn, which she finds all too soon as
Her life reaches another turning point
As she had reached so many literal
Barrels, she now finds herself turning
Just life corners, but with some of that
Old enthusiasm and joy she experienced
In those arenas of yesteryear now gone
By leaving her with only methaphorical
Turns, and barrels to go around, points
Of her life where things like love and
Happiness are the trophies and buckles
The prize money, the smile on her boy's
Face and her slips and falls are life snags
But she holds onto that spirit, that gusto
And lives her life, like the excited beating
Of the strong heart of the horse who use
To turn her corners for her with such
Strength and dexterity, alacritous in his
Intent on winning and the run to the finish
Although life has slowed, she still looks
To the next turn, not with trepidation,
But with the heart of the champion
Which she was, and while others live
With soft caution and tones of grey
She spurs it on, in smiles that are like
Her bright clothes and with a love of
Life that charges out of the gate and
Excitedly heads to turn the next corner


Gene T.

(a poem for my friend, Bettina Fetzer Smith)

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

BOUNTIFUL


BOUNTIFUL

Bare existence was never meant to be
All a person should aspire for in life
God has provided ways for us to see
Beyond this world which is so filled with strife
When one can look past this plane's horizon
And ignore the undertow of today's
Pernicious world's lack of love's bright vision,
We start to completely see better ways

Intertwined lives no longer held tightly
Together, now easily tossed aside
Gifts of the heart discounted, not rightly
Considered never brought fully inside
Words once deep now flippantly tossed around
The words “I love you”, now disposable
Plastic, phony, cheap and mean all abound
True love so rare it is not usable

Souls shielded from the onslaught of the storm
Impervious to all benevolence
Whether giving or receiving, the norm
In a world so use to it pestilence
Rife with the terrible effects of hate
Heads reel with horrific daily news heard
As we all pray that it isn't too late
Mindless ones in command of all our fate

Then shines an aurora in the dark gloom
Of life's pallor and so colors my world
Back from the edge I come, back in the room
More green now than blue my life palettes swirled
Shimmering mutual light paints a bright
Pattern of brightly glowing sea tinted
Expression and aqua prism of light
Senses filled and all orange blossom scented

A gift from God today it seems I've got
Added to the two which I love so much
God lifted me up to see what I've sought
And I could see clearly and over such
Obstacles and refuse of world clatter
And all the way to Florida it seems
The dreary world doesn't seem to matter
And like in the sea, life's bounty now teems

Bright fresh sunrise over the Texas shore
And sunsets once again glowing orange, red
To the western skyline I look once more
Hanging on every glance now and word said
Heightened in awareness of His glory
Strengthened by the consciousness of His grace
Looking forward to telling the story
Sharing with others who are stuck in place


The miracle of the gift of true love
Given and received so easy and free
That it must been sent from up above
Why did I get it, a sinner like me
Happiness so elusive lately now
Manifest in many wonderful ways
If others could just look up and see how
Then their lives would be filled with brighter days


Using this for an example and guide
Like St. Elmo's fire's bright lightning like light
Into vision of what's needed they'd slide
Lifted up higher for much better sight
Days filled with smiles, laughs and oh so much fun
Thankful life's easier and wonderful
Seemingly much brighter though the same sun
Making oceans and lives bountiful


MST

Monday, August 10, 2009

AQUAMARINE


AQUAMARINE

Beautiful soothing hues of soft blue-green
Radiate softy up from the depths and into
Her eyes as she nears the ocean shore
They glow back a soft contended green at
Her love's love and beyond the fathomless
Depths of the ocean's soul and into his own
Sea foam palette down into his heart where
She knows a safe place awaits her own
Pulse and where she can rest her blue tinted
Mind while adjusting the spectrum of her life
The ocean nearby reminds them by it's roar
And the delicious salt aroma wafting inland
Over their bluish tinted spirits waiting for it's
Cleansing waters and healing waves breaking
Onto the sands of time on the shores of life
Where the burdens of eternity have been left
For the mighty bosom of Poseidon's realm
To eventually consume and send to oblivion
Here they too have come to lay a burden
Upon the sands and to add their tears to
The same salt waters of the sea's blue-green
Depths rending the blues from themselves
And allowing the breaking waves to take
All shades of that darker color which even
Though beautifully mixed with their greens
Does make a lovely turquoise, that isn't their
Color, their color is green, their matching eyes
Reflecting the sameness of their kindred souls
Hearts beating alike and quickening together
And slowing to a soft slow perpetual rhythm
As the blue slowly leaves them and returns
To the sea where it belongs while turning it
The receptor of their pain and sorrow
aquamarine.


MST

Thursday, August 6, 2009

CALI GOTH GIRL


CALI GOTH GIRL

Black clothes, black nail polish and black lipstick
to her was her statement to all the world.
She rebelled against the hypocrisy
which around so many in her life swirled.
Her dreams not matching her dark demeanor,
but instead they held shining bright lights.
The future was though mystery to her,
during this her life voyage of dark sights.

So young and bright and hopeful her plans
of life in contrast to her darkness glowed.
Against the clock and against the time sands
her life's meaning and purpose somehow slowed.
And motherhood, now reality,
changed the Cali goth girl's paths and her life.
How, she pondered could this really now be
me being a mother and a young wife?

But it was to be and over ten fold
as children became her life, and her dreams.
True love she had found while cradling them told
of deeper meaning for all life it seems.
Her life went quickly by, surrounded by
her children and family which had arose.
She wondered at it all with a soft sigh, as
she painted her nails black, and put on her
black clothes.


(a poem written for Mischelle LaDorne Hart Bowser, a dear friend and mother of 10)

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

ARBORS


ARBORS

A beautiful rose bush grows and blooms
In it's zest for life it branches out
In many directions, at first unrestrained
As time goes by it's growth is impaired
The arbor which gives it support now restrains
The roses hit constraints, limits and barriers
They cause it to grow in unnatural directions
Through holes and openings in the latticework
In ways it would have never grown if wild
After many seasons, it became very tangled
The rose bush wishes it had supported itself
Instead of using the lattice and arbor's help
But there is no way to untangle herself now
Without cutting off branches she loves and needs
Without pain and years of healing time
Without injuring other roses which have woven
Their way into her life and also need the arbor
But the beautiful rose dreams of days when
She didn't have these arbors and she wasn't
Tangled and interwoven nearly inextricably
A beautiful rose bush grows and blooms
In it's zest for life it branches out



MST

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

ESTUARINE



ESTUARINE

High overhead the gulls laughed
at those who didn't have wings.
The ones without wings looked
at their feet, and the sand underneath.
Waves lapped and washed tirelessly
working at their beach building labor.
While the wingless ones built castles
out of the fruits of the waves labor.
A river emptied it's contents into
the ocean, completing it's own work.
Crabs walked sideways indifferently
with claws upheld instead of wings.
Mullet jumped to get a look at the
wingless ones that built the castles.
Dunes rise and fall over the years
because the wind won't rest either.
Shells hide in the sand and wait
for the wingless castle builders.
They use them for decoration since
the original inhabitants have left.
Seaweed washes up around the feet
of the wingless ones and tickles them.
Jellyfish float listlessly along pulling
behind their strings of stinging tails.
The wingless ones try to pretend they
have fins sometimes and swim like fish.
But they always go back and lay under
funny, round and brightly colored trees.
Wingless castle builders eat from colored
boxes full of hard water and clear leaves.
They make loud noises when the small
builders are learning to build castles.
Many times, they leave some of the
things from the colored boxes behind.
The sand has to cover them up so that
they might find them later, or not.
The castle builders didn't use to be
here like the rest of us have been.
They are new, but they somehow think
they know all about the beach and estuary.
The small flies and spider crabs don't
seem to care or notice them at all.
Their castles always wash away, but
for some reason they build more.
Starting their labor which isn't much
labor compared to the river and sea.
Not compared to the wind or waves
and tides and rain and the sun of course.
And their castles aren't as nice as the
ones we build now are they gulls?
High overhead the gulls laughed
at those who didn't have wings.



MST


Saturday, August 1, 2009

COLOR CHANGE



COLOR CHANGE

In the deep sea,
life centers around change.
The change from brown water to
green and around the change from green
water to blue. Here usually two distinctly
different types of water exist, either warmer and
colder or traveling different directions, usually both.
Usually there is a lot of debris around this point of
change, and they are easily visible. Small fish and
crustaceans hide beneath this gathering of flotsam
and jetsam, and larger fish in turn are attracted to it.
Overhead seabirds circle, the opportunist looking
for food in the life filled water change line below.
We fisherman gather there, trolling for the big
fish below, the ultimate predator and un-hunted.
A distinct line of sea grass many times marks the
spot for us, or a dramatically visible color change.
Oftentimes from a translucent green, to a crystal
clear and nearly transparent color of beautiful blue.
When heading offshore, it is hard for us to continue
on to the perfect colored water, it takes more time
and fuel and we are anxious to begin catching fish.
So goes our lives. We usually are prone to stopping
in the imperfect waters because it is quicker and
easier, and we are anxious to begin living our lives.
But should we be patient, and continue on to
the beautiful clean and perfectly colored water,
we are always rewarded by it's bounty that
we find by seeking the color change.
There will be a conflict of
current and mercurial
extremes for us to
contend with as
we head to
our
better
lives and
much more
perfect endings.
There will be debris
that has gathered around
this change, but it will stay
gathered there and you will leave
it behind as you head toward your
beautiful clear and shining blue water.
We can't be afraid of the color change of
our lives, and it is that to which we should
all aspire to reach and, to dwell within it with
those who have chosen to make it to that change
with us. For they too, have waited and have come
a long way just to be with us. Drawn and coaxed by
the bounty of the change and the beautiful colors of it's
water. And helped there by a fisherman, just as on the sea.

MST





Thursday, July 30, 2009

HORIZONS



HORIZONS

She was christened, and got underway
Her bright new sails and shiny brass gleaming
In the morning sunlight's bright gleaming day
She made her way out toward the horizon
As proud onlookers cheered her departure
Unblemished, she proudly plied smooth waters
She accustomed herself to being at sea
Experiencing, feeling, and learning

Waves building as the sea deepened beneath
Her bow slicing through waves with confidence
Sails billowing as she catches the breeze
Jib set proudly, her mainmast strong and tall
Sturdy hull tightly planked, shiny new decks
Now starting to be covered with bow-spray
As she makes her way toward fathoms deeper

Whitecaps breaking on top of larger swells
Storm clouds building gusts lashing her topsails
Wood creaking now plunging into large waves
Rain falling making vision difficult
She reduces sail and speed for safety
And quarters the sea to lessen the blow
A sail tears and is brought down from the mast
Her roll and yaw increasing mightily

Her lines tight against the belaying pins
A small paint chip here, a small cracked plank there
She maintains strength against the storm's strong blows
Lightning flashes in the sky, thunder rolls
Water runs down her hatch into the hold
Her confidence waning as she holds on
She assesses her damage and maintains
Steady on course through the brunt she makes wake

Light filters through the clouds and brings her hope
The huge waves begin to subside slowly
Giving way to slow rollers, lighter wind
She re-furls her full cloths to improve speed
Making good time again as she passes
Beautiful islands and lovely seashores
She makes port, sliding gently into slip
Lines tied off, decks scrubbed and repairs made

Ah the safety of port and the ease of
Being behind breakwaters and jetties
No large waves, no deep water, no strong wind
Can hurt her as long as she's in harbor
Barnacles attach, worms bore and moss grows
On her once shiny hull, she sits safely
Though and quietly with the others there
This is the life she thinks, no waves are here

She watches others come and go bravely
In from and out to the deep blue sea
Are they thinking straight she now asks herself
And then realizes that she too yearns
For the offshore breeze and for the ocean
She is a ship after all, not a dock
She loves the beautiful islands and waves
She yearns now to be free to sail her sea

The comfort of harbor was nice and safe
But how can a ship stay there all her life
How can she fulfill her life's destiny
What beautiful adventures and sights missed
What other ships might she meet and share love
And her hopes and desires and dreams with them
How can she reach her horizon from here
She is a ship, and her lines now come off


In the morning sunlight's bright gleaming day
She makes her way out toward her horizon
As proud onlookers cheer her departure
Experienced and proud, she plies the waves
She knows what it is like to be at sea
Experiencing, feeling and learning
She sees beautiful islands and beaches
As she heads toward her destined horizon


MST

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

LOST AND FOUND





LOST AND FOUND

A little girl became lost and scared in the
woods of life.
As time went by, the woods became darker
deeper and scarier
She couldn't find her way back to her home
or to herself.
She wandered her eyes blurry with tears
and longing.
The girl was brave and she forged on through
the woods alone.
She met many people in the dense, dark woods
who walked with her.
But none could help her find her way back to
her home, herself.
Time passed and she forgot how to get back to
where she came from.
Sometimes, thorns would scratch her as she walked
by rose bushes.
Small trickles of blood would run from these wounds
that stung her.
After more time, she didn't notice the dark, the fear,
or the stings.
She only understood their presence, their existence,
but not hers.
Periodically, she would ask directions for any way
out of the woods.
But the answers she received all pointed different and
conflicting directions.
When one day, she saw a twinkle of light in the form
of words written.
At first she dismissed them, she had seen words before
with no help.
But these words kept urging, trying, loving and helping
the lost girl.
After listening for a short while, the light grew brighter
and she could see.
Another direction became apparent, it's glow ahead
becoming brighter.
The girls spotted a clearing, sky through the woods
peered blue.
The sound of waves greeted her as she approached
the light.
Salt air filled her senses and the cry of seabirds fell
upon her ears.
A feeling of safety washed over her as the waves did on the
now visible beach.
Standing at the water's edge was a seafarer, offering her His
scarred hand.

And for the moment, what she had sought became much
less important.
Who she had become now made sense and comforted
the girl.
After all this time, was it possible that it wasn't home she
was seeking?
Maybe, just maybe, the journey wasn't for naught, it was
rather a path.
To what she was meant to find, and who she was now meant
to be.
God's love light radiated as she approached the man and
the beach.
Could it be that instead of herself she sough, God had her
find Him?
Her sojourn had indeed prepared her for the impossibility
of return.
Had it paved her way to the sea, the light, to God and
possibly Him?
The search had been so hard, because she had been looking
in the wrong place.
It wasn't herself, or her past, or her childhood and freedom
she was seeking.
Perhaps she reasoned, that it was this all along which she had
been meant to find.
Their hands touched, and as their eyes met across the space
of moments.
She knew then, that at least of what she had been seeking
she had found.
She also knew that what she still was meant to find, would be
made easier, by Him





MST

LINES


LINES

I'm a fisherman and seafaring man
I've had many lines to tend in my life
There are lines which we untie at the dock
So we can leave the safety of the port
There are lines fastening sail to rigging
We use lines on the compass to guide us
Latitude lines and the longitude lines
Are on our maps to show us our location

Lines are trolled and drifted with baits and hooks
These are the true fishing lines of our trade
Lines of debarkation mark our exit
From our country's water to the high seas
Our ship, has lines to mark it's areas
One can be amidships, or on the bow
One can be on port side or on starboard
And you can also be abaft the beam

Using rope lines on deck is marlinspike
Sextants have lines to measure the sun with
Against lines on the clock and horizon
Running chart lines to find underwater
Structure invisible from the surface
Anchor line holds our ship in place at sea
Fuel and water lines serve our engines
In port, spring lines keep us centered in slip

But even though I am well versed in lines
I now find myself with a whole new set
Of lines for which I must concern myself
For it is love lines of which I now speak
She has lines I must tend to and care for
There is a line she has drawn for herself
A line she wishes to cross to find and be free
Of life line bonds she has submitted to

She has lines on her cheeks where the tears flow
It is my job to cause the happy ones
And indeed my job to dry the sad ones
She had lines that kept her from saying words
Words I desperately wanted to hear
But we have now thrown that line off the ship
And "I love you" is free to sail to me
Causing my own tears to make lines on me

I tend carefully to the lines I write her
Each line turning into a pretty verse
Which when she reads I pray she will be pleased
Then her smile will make those pretty smile lines
By the eyes which have read my simple lines
The line between me and her has faded
The line that ties me to her has strengthened
Lines form the word we and toward it we move

I'm a fisherman and seafaring man
I've had many lines to tend in my life
But I now tend the lines God intended
Her lines. I will remove them, care for them
Dry them, cause them, cross them, share them, love them
Until lines woven into us create
Strong fabric from which we will make our sails
To sail into the line of our horizon

Monday, July 27, 2009

AFTER THE RAIN


AFTER THE RAIN

One can feel the rain's pending arrival
The wind changes, strengthens and is gusty
Clouds obscure the sun and bright sky with gray
Colors fade, sun rays briefly peer through them
Pretty sunlit hues now hide behind clouds
They just peer from behind dark barriers
Winking and shining to show their presence

Misty and fine drops begin to moisten
Slowly making it difficult to see
Caution is the watchword when proceeding
Lest we lose traction and slip and injure
It comes time for shelter, and the closeness
Offered at hand and in hand we allow
The rainstorm to come in earnest to us
Large moist drops in earnest are now falling

The sound of the rainstorm, though familiar
Now ushers in the thunder and lightning
Bright flashes are followed by deep rumbling
Causing us to hold tight against the storm
All is wet now, without care or concern
Large drops running down to moisten us both
By their sheer volume they cleanse and purge us
Washing dirt, dust and things unclean away

We gladly now accept the rain torrent
Letting it rend things left here by times past
Cleaning windows and improving our sight
Freshening our lives with healing waters
Making everything seem new and clean
As the rainstorm now behind us settles
With improved vision, we see things anew
Strengthened now by enduring the deluge

Although we can now safely come outside
We might choose to remain held close within
So as to see each other more clearly
Our love is now deepened and purified
By sharing the shelter and comforting
Surviving, knowing that next time we're here
To dry away the waters of the storm
Which fell, not from the sky, but from her eyes



MST

Sunday, July 26, 2009

HELM WATCH MINE


HELM WATCH MINE

It is time for my helm watch, my wheel time
She's not my ship, but responds to my touch
When I take hold, I still feel other warmth
From another's hands upon her steering
He has skills as I but dissimilar
He is the master and the commander
I am privileged to touch her at all
But when I do she seems so very mine

Although I have no claim to my wheel time
When I relinquish her it hurts my heart
And I long for my return to her helm
When at it, I feel no real fear with her
The sinking sun melts in golden stream
O'er shoulders of the beautiful horizon
Meandering with twinkling greens blinking
Over beautiful soft swells I now traverse

I steer in the unknown on my wheel time
I look toward the fading dark horizon
I know my time alone with her is short
I treasure the moments of my night watch
The sky lights with bright stars through her canvas
And they twinkle and reflect off of her
As if they were a million nice fireflies
In the shape of dippers, bears and crosses

I wonder if she likes it, my wheel time
I wonder if she feels the kindred thrill
I wonder if her beautiful riggings tremble
I wonder is this her favorite time of day
I wonder if she knows that it is mine
I wonder does she feel sting of release
I wonder is there anticipation
I wonder does she love the helm watch mine





MST