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)

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

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

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)

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

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

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

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

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

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