Let me tell you how the waves from a shark’s fin
Did set the tides on D-Day and let the allies win;
Chance and destiny are identical twins.
A word was spoken and the earth created
Another phrase and the future was dictated
And so every action must be carefully weighted
We just never know how things are interrelated.
SEASON OF LOVE
The cool breeze kisses the green grass
Forgotten are the cold nights of winter past
Clouds paddle lazily across the summer sky.
Sunlight sighs down from above
So begins the season of love.
Fluttering eyes, the young testing their wings
They dance to the songs the chirping robin sings
Each one declares they are ready to fly.
Touch turns to kiss as night starts to fall
The season of love has dawned for all.
The stars and the moon smile on the scene
The cycle of renewal and newness it brings
They slip down the horizon as the hour draws nigh.
Morning brings sunrise and songs not yet sung
The season of love has only begun.
VOLCANO
Wisps of ashy, gray smoke flutter
From the peak of a mountain;
It appears Mother nature has once again
Reneged on her promise
To quit smoking.
The earth shakes violently
Tectonic vibrations gyrate,
In a single moment a city could
Be buried in ashes
For eternity.
Flashes of orange, reddish light
Emanating from spewing lava;
This ancient formation has come alive
Back from dormancy
To burn the Earth.
UP THE MOUNTAIN ON A BRISK FALL DAY
The cracked, worn road curls away into the distance
The adjacent river blasts a loud symphony
If nature is a cathedral, this is the entrance
I walk in with an open mind.
Cars, voices, and smog fade away
As birds, squirrels, and the river take their place
I lose track of the date, what's today?
Only the sun can define it.
Snowcapped peaks look down from far above
But the nearby foliage is still green
Clouds embrace the mountains with love
As blue sky fades to pink.
A chill takes hold of the air
Animals scurry away for shelter
Snowflakes begin to fall, the earth will wear
A cloak of white tomorrow morning.
I ponder the meaning of nature's song
And why it weighs so on my heart
Alas, it is too cold, I must say so long
To this place of beauty, serenity, and peace.
A SEPTEMBER SUNSET
A fire burns in the evening sky
Breaking like an egg in a pan
A sea of yellowish orange spreads
In accordance with divine plan.
Vibrant paint drips to the edge
Of ashen clouds drifting past
The sun is a messy painter
Every brush stroke massive and vast.
The clouds are like matches
Starting as fiery flame
Then fading to ashes
A burning passion, tamed.
The red, orange, yellow leaves
On the ground in this season
Reflect the colors of the sky, and
The sunlight that used to feed them.
A September sunset beaming
Down as a sailor's last call
A herald for the coming winter
A message, enjoy the fleeting fall.
NOVEMBER’S NORTHERN LIGHTS
Lights dimmed, curtains opened wide
I can see clearly the view outside
We watch, curious and wide-eyed—
The beauty of Aurora’s pride.
Green streaks dance across the sky
Red light joins, but bids a swift goodbye
Before coming back in a moment to retry
And join back in the dance way up high.
A billion stars beam in the background
They shout their stories without a sound
For their song is lost and drowned
By the symphony of lights, so profound.
City lights beam from across the lake
And join Aurora in the reflection to make
Me to my senses, am I even awake?
This is the stuff of dreams and magic
Who knew nature could be this fantastic?
Who told these lights to be so enthusiastic?
A love letter from the sky, how romantic.
SNOWFLAKE
I always hear people say
That no two snowflakes are alike.
I’ve always wondered,
How do you know that?
Here, in my backyard,
Is a bunch of snowflakes
That nobody tested to see
If they were exactly the same
As any others.
So maybe there are
Many identical snowflakes.
Not that it matters, of course
They’re beautiful either way.
A HUNDRED BILLION STARS
Innumerable pinpoints of light
Populate a sheer blackness
The stark contrast sends
Shivers down my spine.
What is it about this view
So vast and incredibly large
That magnifies our thoughts
Into equal proportions?
These many dots in the night sky
Like a giant connect-the-dots drawing
Are enough to drive one to believe
In the interconnectedness of all things.
When the brightness of one star
Is lost in the multitude of its brethren
It makes one feel so insignificant
But simultaneously irreplaceable.
Thoughts of chance and destiny
Burn into my retinas
So when I close my eyes
I see only profound thoughts.
Under a night’s sky
Filled with a hundred billion stars
Is it so crazy to believe
Our paths were destined to cross?
Under a night’s sky
So beautiful as this
The possibilities are endless
Fear melts into bliss.
THE DEATH OF SUMMER
Mountains fade to black
Silhouetted against the sun
The sunset loudly declares
That this day is done.
The stars are white pixels
The moon is but a sliver
I wish I could paddle away
In that constellation river.
But all beauty has an end
And glossy darkness brings the cold
The stench of death attacks the leaves
And green weakens its hold.
The rain that gave life in the day
Becomes icy snowflakes of chilly death
The grim reaper comes for the flowers tonight
And promises another day for the rest.
SKYDUST
Glimmering specks
Of the brightest dust
Against an abyss of darkness
The blackest of seas
As the hours tick by
The slowest of winds
Pushes these specks
Like hands of a clock.
They whirl and dance
Like electricity
Or monochrome lightning bugs
Against a noir field.
Each star, like our sun
Perhaps hosting a planet
Like ours, full of life;
Who can speak for infinity?
REQUIEM FOR A RAINDROP
Raindrops on flower petals
Are the sky’s love letters
To the ground;
Each one is beautiful
Pure, clear, reflective
And full of passion.
Admire these letters up close
See how they use their surroundings
To better expound their contents.
They slip, full of motion
Refusing to be bound
And kept from new joy.
Some of these drops
Evaporated from Everest
And ended up at this spot;
A drop from the deepest ocean
Traversed on heavenly railway
To see its loved ones here again.
SUNRISE COFFEE
The rays of sun spilled
Like coffee into a pot
Gently, warmly flowing
Almost as an afterthought.
The morning dew melted to vapor
Rising into a morning mist
As the supple steam rose from the cup
And with the breeze, was dismissed.
I took my mocha with extra cream
As clouds drifted across the sky
Forming thick, bushy clumps
Becoming one with the liquid nearby.
I took my first sip
As sun crested horizon
The heat nearly burnt my lips
As blue sky began to lighten.
I sighed with contentment
Enjoying the myriad flavors
The coffee swirled and mixed
Rhythmically as the light wavered.
AVENLIGHT
I often wonder
If we are so used to human communication
That we neglect the possibility
Of any other form
Outside of the ordinary.
Are we so arrogant as to believe
That our little wagging of floppy tongues
Against teeth and mouth
Which we use to move an alignment of neurons
(Which we call a thought)
From one organism to another
Is the only method of communication
In the entire universe?
Perhaps, for instance
That globulous fire organism
That we call the sun
Has been seeking to establish first contact
For millions of years
Cycling between the harsh ultraviolet
Of a desert sky day
And the avenlight glow
That comes just before sunset;
Struggling to crack the code
Of our meaningless flashes of city lights
In return.
The human eye can only see
So many colors;
I like to imagine
That when we look upon
A pitch black night’s sky
And ignorantly label it colorless
Is it actually filled with all the colors
We could never even imagine.
Perhaps all these imploding stars
Are missiles thrown between
Galaxies at war
And these spiral galaxies
Are merely winding up
For a punch
Ten billion years
In the making.
I often wonder and imagine
What lies just beyond the fringe
Of the human experience;
What is it that we do not see?
THE AUBURN SCENT OF PINE
Auburn scent of pine
Fills the autumn air
Birds chirp sorrowfully nearby
Hungover from the giddy of summer.
The sunrise leaps across the landscape
Like a child awoken from slumber
Ready to play and live with joy
Unaware of the impendingness of death.
Winter slashes her icy nails
Across the chalkboard of the seasons
The child has grown up a little now
And walks carefully, slowly.
Uneasiness, anxiety
Plague the movement of the light
As harsh darkness sets in
The child’s light goes out.
The moon glares down on the scene
Like a decayed, hardened sun
Lively, gaseous nature
Deadened into wretched stone.
Long wilted leaves lay dead
Blackened by the weight of snow
Without light, does it even exist?
If there is no one left to see it?
The promise of rest is broken
As easily as an egg
And the light awakens
For the newness of spring.
As quickly as it began
The leaves fall from the trees
They have absorbed his light
But nonetheless fall again.
The auburn scent of pine
Fills the autumn air
The sun cringes, knowing
He will soon succumb to wintry despair.
I, FOREST
I am an ancient forest
Which has stood for a hundred thousand years
Bark has shielded countless rings
And time doth not remember my birth.
There are leaves on the outermost trees
Which swear that their fathers
Were nibbled upon
By the great Tyrannosaurus Rex.
But that predator faded away
And a new one took its place
The human, it was called,
And so our stories became intertwined.
I remember when Babylon fell
The story was told in whispers by our neighbors
And again when Rome did the same;
We heard the human stories with interest.
The stories fell silent after some time
And steam crept over the horizon
Our neighbors fell prey to the humans
And became the stuff of lodgings and markets.
A wave of fear overcame my trees
As the humans crept further outward
After a shot while, they found me
And it was only a matter of time.
My extremities built their industry
And my middle built their warships
My trees heated their homes
Or sunk to the bottom of the ocean.
When I had dwindled, at last
The humans decided
That my oxygen breath
Did not merit a deadly fate.
But the cities spewed smog
And that monster demanded
More fuel, so that it could grow
To an infinite size, apparently.
Now I stand, the last one.
The proud, tough tree
With ten thousand rings
And as many stories to tell.
Then the fateful day came.
Chainsaws roared, and I
Was broken into pieces,
And the forest died.
No one counted my rings.
No one cared to ask
About the times that would
Truly amaze them.
No, the humans did not care.
Instead, I was scraped
Into many, many thin pieces
And on me, ink was printed.
Ten thousand copies were made.
Floatable barbecue!
Have a cookout while in your pool!
Fifty percent off at the supermarket!
I hope my death was worth it.
Now, they can cook in the pool
But I think they have forgotten
That they can starve of oxygen.
I was the most ancient of forests.
I saw the birth and death of nations
I saw the continents move
; I watched life struggle.
Now I am ash and products.
Come get your floatable barbecue.
Perhaps the loss of my many rings
Was worth that occupied space on your shelf.
Thank you for reading this collection of original poems. If you liked this book, please share it with others and help spread the word.
How this book came to be
I never understood the appeal of poetry. I’ve always been a rather analytical, left-brained person, and I just never connected with what seemed to me to be over-exaggerated whining which people labeled “poetry”.
That all changed when, in the seventh grade, I was assigned to do a poetry slam as a class assignment. Groaning with distaste, I decided my hatred of not succeeding in class outweighed my hatred of poetry, and the rest is history.
What I wrote at that poetry slam is, in fact, the first poem in this book, “Diversity”. It was in writing and performing that piece that I discovered the power of words to affect how someone else sees the world. From then on, the idea of being able to transfer a feeling or idea from myself to another person has continued to fascinate me.
Validation of our own experiences is a fundamental aspect of being a human being. This is why we share so much and why social media even exists. It is human nature to share.
It is interesting to me that, if you overthink everything as I so often do, any form of performance inherently becomes absurd. What rational basis is there for someone to pretend to be another person and record it to make a movie? Why dress up in a silly costume and fake having emotions and experiences that are wholly manufactured by some writer who just decided that’s what that person should portray?
The same goes for any form of music or comedy or anything else. If you really think about it, it doesn’t make any sense. So on that level, it doesn’t make sense for me to have written down these intensely personal ideas, feelings, and experiences which have originated within myself. Would it make any sense to publish a collection of equally personal medical notes from my physical self? Why is one an unquestioned societal norm and the other is an absurdity?
That’s what comes of overthinking things. On a more pragmatic level, we do things simply because we do them. I wrote this book because I couldn’t not write it. To stop myself from creating art would be as absurd as changing my personality and mannerisms entirely to become a wholly different person. I believe this applies to everyone in different ways.
Every second of every day, every one of us is creating something. We are creating moments. We are creating memories and feelings in the people around us, intentionally and unintentionally.