the colors of her waking dreams were laid on papers as she fled into the pictures brought to life through breath she drew and paint she bled for though she worked within the dim the light she found was everywhere: the colors of her waking dreams removed whatever drab was there
She knew her roles, But didn't know How she could be All of those things; For though she showed Some aptitudes, They were not those Of queens or kings, But somewhat more like Circus clowns; A little scary, Out of date -- She knew what she Was s'posed to be; But some of us Just aren't That great
Four-and-ninety years ago, He first came to these hills, The child of a couple doomed By undeveloped pills But somehow, he survived the times And lived on to relate The way he nearly fought the war (His birthday came too late) Instead, in southeast Asia, he Performed with passing valor A thing he sometimes thinks about, And wakes, in sweat and pallor But that was sixty years ago. So much around him changing, His escapades, mere stories now, His mind slowly deranging -- But in the hills again, he finds He can give up resistance, And hear the echoes of a past That other, whole Existence
must you always build you must a sacred calling in your hands along a stretch of sinewed shored among the vanquished vanished strands the houses built into the hills the worlds you craft in mind and strength that come unbidden full and clear of love and height and home and length
I watched her turn into a soul That I could hardly recognize; And maybe it's just that I'm old, And she, a banquet for the eyes -- But there was more, and so much more: The restless hope that came that hour She realized her dreams were near, And getting them, within Her power
Diving into freedom Power has a feeling In the arboretum Flowers see no ceiling She had strength in pleasure Her own whims amusing Finding her own measure Using, not abusing
she smiles at the office for all who might walk by; a people-person, or perhaps, a social butterfly for it's in interaction she finds her energy: two years of online meetings felt like total atrophy
While still in school, She thought she knew About her heart And how it grew From year to year And face to face -- And so, she took that Everyplace. But now her past And present state Seem both too small, And yet, too great. Her heart a stranger In a mask, And each new face Another task. Why is it, when We reach the age When we thought we Would be a sage, We then, instead, Become a fool? Why were we wiser Back in school?
He went in search of riches In custom-tailored suits, He grew close to the bottom-line And refereed disputes Until he was the one in charge, His words consulted orbs, His name appearing in the crawl, On CNN, in Forbes -- And though he touches time and space He still his old home visits To feel again the dream he had He'd one day have No limits
