Often Poems

a little too often

i fell in love with you, like falling asleep— slowly, then all at once. 
my heart warms everytime i look at you, my gaze lingers, each time you walk past.
now i find myself remembering you at every chance.
all the love songs and late night scenarios, they seem to be masked with thoughts of you. 
though, i cant help but ask myself, am i helplessly in love or is it just a fleeting phase?

Clouds often go unnoticed, but they are so much like us

Clouds often go unnoticed, but they are so much like us,
soft and distant travelers, floating through a sky full of unknown thoughts,
meeting like strangers, carried by the same wind of chance,
staying for a while, then quietly parting, without promises or storms.
They do not ask the sky to stop, nor beg the sun to linger longer,
even in their parting, they shine for a moment, then continue to move anyway,
perhaps alone, but never lonely, carrying rain and light in their souls,
changing shape but never losing the grace that defines them.
And maybe that's all we need—to move, to meet,
to let go and rise again, for life is a balance to be learned,
to be strong while feeling fragile, to hold heavy thoughts like dark clouds,
to find peace in solitude and yet rise, constant and sure, regardless of the sky.
Because life means learning to shine even in moments of parting,
to embrace fragility and maintain the elegance of change within you,
to float through the winds of countless dreams and not get lost in the tumult,
to find your path, to find your peace, and to rise, no matter what the sky may bring.

every so often

Every so often
sometimes in life, we make a path that we realize was made by others to trap us into doing what they want
it feels silly to be fooled, but the ones that fooled us didn’t do so out of maize which makes it difficult to correct  
when a person dedicated to a rustic life, a dog, and writing his thoughts of the day he nevertheless dreams of a big city life with a throng of friends 
when this moment occurs, he can easily be led astray by people whose agenda and purpose that is not what you were here for
the dog that had been beside you for 13 years died, the walk in the forest becomes a memory lane the grief stops one from seeing the beauty

In season, sonnets often find their bloom

In season, sonnets often find their bloom
by trailing lesser forms towards the light;
a patient wait’s reward is greater room,
and thus they are content to just sit tight.

But once a way appears, they make their move
and quickly seize the opportunity.
Iambs, awkward at first, begin to groove
and make connections naked eyes scarce see.

Then bursting forth, the buds now put on flesh,
give weight to what was formerly a hint.
With careful pruning, parts are truly meshed,
can best express their purposeful intent.

When poets cultivate a love’s pursuit,
the sonnet bears the sweetest of the fruit.

I Think Of You Quite Often

I think of you quite often, when the rain
Falls gently through the tender autumn air,
And every leaf, half golden, whispers pain,
A fleeting sadness I could almost wear.

I think of you when twilight softly gleams
Along the river’s silver-threaded edge,
Where sunset mingles with forgotten dreams,
And night is but a whispered, quiet pledge.

I think of you when morning breaks the night,
The first blush in the sky, a bloom of rose,
Reminds me of your laughter, pure, and bright—
The sound that every dawn within me knows.

I think of you when stars begin to glow,
Like promises of peace upon the sea,
And in their quiet sparkles, I still know
You are the light that shines, though far from me.

I think of you when wind moves through the trees,
Its haunting melody a soft refrain,
That echoes memories across the seas,
Of times we lived, in joy, without a stain.

I think of you in silence, when the moon
Is hanging like a wish upon the sky,
A whispered thought that fades away too soon—
But lingers, like a soft, unspoken sigh.

less is often more

Luther had a tendency to write with prolixity
using six adjectives when two would do
there were no breaks in his text
his missives were written as a brick pedestal
solid from side to side, top to bottom
Many who read the words of other poets skipped his
preferring to spend their time on smaller less wordy missives
Oftentimes less is more
in poetry as well as art.

vote early and often

It is said that our ballots are secret
And that is the way we should keep it
A trip to the polls
No chads, marks, or folds
Just some deft sleight of hand to delete it

They vote early and often
Some vote from the coffin
A nod and a wink
Was it blue or soft pink
There’s a bucket right here to put that in

So often

So often, a storm blows in
I remain clueless and unaware
The storm I see is coming
So, I begin to prepare 
I grab my stone of protection
And place it in my heart
I sit in meditation 
In hopes of finding the spark
The colors start glowing
The shapes begin to appear
Then the voice of the knowing
And the answer is so clear
LET GO!
Let go of the nonsense
Let go of everything 
Let go of the control 
You think you have
And let happen 
What should be
Don't fight your fate or destiny 
Just know you're on the path
So, stand out in the rain 
Until the thunder and lightning pass
Take your lesson standing up
Not frightened and laying down
Show the universe you're ready
So you can learn this go-around
You'll find that your perception 
Of reality, it will change
Some will feel the disappointment 
While others, the joy of change 
Just know that life is all about
Growth and love for all
As long as you can take a step
Change will always follow


R.K.H

best friends often do not do well in school

Best friends often do not do well in school.
But they are hilarious, and make life cool.
Know what to say, how to listen, and be a clown.
Can help you rise up when your soul is a bit down.

Best friends are not the ones your parents would pick.
But they know how to play, have fun, and give you a kick.
They keep the giggles flowing, and show you a good time.
My best friends are the best, to keep your mind out of slime.

I often wonder

7 April 2024  10:36 PM

The stars are bright high in the sky they watch over the earth through the night.

What they have seen and for how long?  No one could adequately write that song.

The history from the begining of time, from the mediocre to the sublime.

The watchers have seen it all, the largest of large, the smallest of small.

I do wonder now and then, what they think of me, if they know my end.

Is my life of interest at all or just a blip not worthy of recall.

I must be worth something good.  Father made me and has kept me as a good Father should.

I don't want reward or fortune or fame.  I just want someone to remember my name.

To know that I mattered and tried to do well. I tried to tell others of God and of hell.

Folks and angels may not know me at all but my Father... our Father He knows us all.

Tryst or trust often its bust

Take the plunge..As I have before, try your friends..
Just to be sure.' Give them truth..Support' some trust
Then wait and see.' Expecting no love, or hate..that fire.'
For it might flare? Their will exposed, in steeped despair?
Who knows the spirit of humans? Deep to core? but one.!
The Great I Am, within deep seas we can't escape him
He's traced each wrinkle, none can berate Him.' And
So I turn to my only Father, who has warned me often 
 I had allowed for rather..? Well a different speil or option'
Did it depend in part how i'd spun the wheel.? God is
True let all others be liars' add the crackle of thorns to
To call those before Him called..?  God watches 'all people' 
And
Maybe, wonders?
At much stupidity as yet; he stokes hells fire.'

Dreams Are Often Shattered by Reality

No one I know dreams of living out their days in a high-rise apartment complex fighting the congestion of some mega-metropolis traffic. Or lost among a complex of look-alike buildings and lethargic lives. Whenever most of us think about our happy place, our minds immediately go to a cottage on the bank of some lake surrounded by trees with their autumn-colored leaves rustling in a warm afternoon breeze. Or we dream of living on a small farm amidst rolling hills covered in green grass. Where cows and horses frolic under a majestic sunrise.

The grass is greener
where I live inside my dreams
without internet

Often strangers clap louder for you than people you thought you knew

You clapped for them and they were quiet for you
Often strangers clap louder for you 
Than people you thought you knew
Many tell you that they want to see you grow
But many of them enjoy seeing you when you are at a low!
Smile for the haters
You clapped for them and they were quiet for you

Today frenemies exist
Snakes in the grass that’s ready to bite
Jealousy and resentment run so deep
But you must keep the faith

Frenemies only know gossip
But they cannot stop the victory that belongs to you!
They will try to damage your story
Hoping they can hold on to their glory
They often live in a fake reality
But darkness does not live forever!

You clapped for them and they were quiet for you
There is nothing new under the sun
This we have seen since the beginning of time!
Many tell you that they want to see you grow
But many of them enjoy seeing you when you are at a low
Often strangers clap louder for you 
Than people you thought you knew
Smile for the haters
You clapped for them and they were quiet for you

Mark Frank

Copyright 2023

Often Conversation Carries

Often conversation carries
Us through the day
For talking about things is
Basic to an alliance

Yet at other times, we survive
A comfortable presence
Where the air is thick with love –
Nothing need be said.

It Is Often Said, Love Is Blue

it is often said, love is blue
a poor anodyne for crushed hearts
pity them dearly that after years
they fail to understand
the mirror holds the cynosure
they truly adore
once miraculous, now commonplace
magic surrendered to logic
fails the child within
the alchemy enclosed is dead
an abandoned playground
even more tragic is the bewitchment
was really never there
the Janus exposed in time
the sad tale of the birth
and transition to decay
those highway markers
where tragedy found a conclusion
when dreams have failed to meld
the off-ramps become the easier pursuit
and as such we humans are
lose or draw begin once more
form new dreams and nurture
the decay within
the reality of the chimera desired
lives where horses are riderless
the beggars have all perished
in a self-induced famine
where the walking dead
polish their romance

   OKC   5/22

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