Trucker's road stories. Trucker's Manifest log. Two days Trucker's drive Highway to highway. Every mile. Truck stops here and there. Overnight sleep within the trucks. Morning rise, and drive again Hours upon hours in schedules to keep. Watch acceleration in delivery time. Horn blowing to trucker's in greet. Night flashes in changing highway lanes. Code of road in respect. Headlights flash at times for alert of caution. Through all kinds of weather good and bad. Deliveries to pursue. Doing what a Trucker is supposed to do. Up hills and downward mountain steeps. Playing country music to pass the time. The song "Keep on Trucking". Never an endless beat. Trucker's schedule. Trucker's sleuth. Arriving at delivery location. Ontime conclude.
When I examine the episodes
beyond my routine day -
those testing times that make a man
and scattered along the way -
my life - like a coastal track
with many flats and steeps,
the turning points and braided paths,
the cliff edge and the deeps -
I find my memory exaggerates,
simplifies and scaffolds truth
to make big driving reasons
for the disasters of my youth.
It is only with some effort
and an honest brutal survey
that I can see a tenth of all
the things that made my way.
So I have to face the tragic fact
as I tumble down this slope:
there’s a lot more to my current fall
than a simple lack of rope.
Hot Black Orange Tea steeps
in my Brown Betty teapot.
Steam screams from my cup.
Floral sencha tea
steeps with soft cherry blossoms
in my China cup.
stagnant water still
stale grief slithered shattering —
finch twitters be free
path a hundred deaths
shake chains raining draining blood ~
write novels free be
turgid losses drown
in insolence they waited …
wife escaped be free
break bones to reach cave
courage climbs steps and steeps __
weep not nights free be
rods crack cords unfurl
ten thousand miles in riddles ~
shed shackles be free
eat parrot’s peanuts
pantry is empty laugh loud …
observe pain free be
smoothly plane cuts through
staring at unwinding space —
judgement flies be free
time moves then stands still
doors bang on open escape ~
awareness free be
petals circular
align with Sun straight down spine …
eyes dazed be free
~::~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~::~
He sweetly serenades me 'til we fall asleep.
He is truly the one whom I want to keep.
He captivates me so much, I cannot speak.
His voice soothes me to point I am so meek.
He lets me hold him in my arms so closely.
He rests his face upon my bosom tenderly.
He is so beautiful, especially as he sleeps.
His presence as warm as tea which steeps.
He softly sings to me and if I know the song,
We sing and realize to each other we belong.
We show each other true love in every way.
We wish to be together every day, someday.
We have met many times before this life,
Why we know how to resolve every strife.
We lived so similarly, though separately,
And now we met, we are no longer lonely.
As the rose sleeps
The fragrance steeps
The night’s somber rain
And somewhere a sunrise as sweet
Young lovers hearts awake complete
And unbroken whilst I groan in twain
For in my hour weaves a moonless night
Upon which the scattered stars fall dim
And grief's lost shadow haunts my sight
Wandering where once she loved him
Antique ceiling tiles were shaking loose
I had a birds eye view of what would
be normal in this type of barn
the science of love is in
ones willingness to be loved
in such willingness one
includes their needs wants and
reputation
not wanting to be involved due
to association to others
might be enough
to reduce the feelings
and dissolve a relationship..
In poreparation for love
might two fdefined goals and simularities
mature emotionally
develop self awarness and socail
awarness
assocation will people
who resect the coulpe
and respect each person as an indivdaul
it steeps into respect
don't be afraid to experiment
with different approaches.
finding new freinds may lead you into
loving and liking new genres
technequies and proper focusing
You're my sweet inspiration
Let me see the light
I want to be born again
You taught me the steeps over
Let me return the favour
Grant me your smile
Make my spirit canter
I would have never missed you from the door
Let me be carried by the four winds
So you can make me whole again
orange-caramel color
steeps into the lotus mug
flower and the leaves
cherry like candy
lifts from the golden liquid
left hand round the waist, hold hands
with the handle, lip
pressed to the rim, intimate
serendipitous-savor
the flavor of rose
petals and hips, cinnamon
apple, almond and cherry
sipping oolong slow
over lips and tongue, twining
in chimera happiness
might open eyes to bonsai
Love is like a pair of shoes
If it does not fits you
You feel discomfort and in pain
If it fits you, you're at peace
You can walk and run with ease
The feeling of comfort
Leads you to where you want to be
If there are steeps to climb
It's easy for your feet to move
And arrive your destination with success.
Is there anything you root for in our garden now?
Must I cultivate it to make it grow?
Can't seed so many plots, I know.
Is there anything you savour in our melting pot now?
Seasons changed, and our flavours compound,
True essence to distil.
Blinded by what familiarity steeps
You know our brew only too well, you see.
I taste bitterness, you drink me.
Remember,
The days when cultures were raw,
Just fresh and jubilantly spicy?
Where exactly did that zest go?
Preserved, yes.
Unspoiled, no!
Simmered away as steam from a kettle,
Aromas mingled over.
Vaporous, hardly distinguishable.
Whatever happened to our cultural bouquet?
Trying to bottle it is so hard.
Is there anything you relish in our feast now?
These days our palates just don't know.
We're still simmering.
Taste! Taste!
Can there be
And can there be
Some place where
Sin slides not
Into my thoughts
And interrupts
The good that God has sent.
Some comfortable path
Of undemanding toil,
No steeps, no heaps,
To navigate at night
But easiness
From first to last?
I tried this way and that
But glory not as promised,
Nor comfort as was said
But troubles,
Disappointments,
Anxious thoughts and fears,
Excluded hopes of peace.
But then -
But then -
I saw the Cross,
The empty Cross.
I thought at once of Jesus,
The peace he came to bring
Through death and resurrection.
Hallelujah!
He’s my living King!
The wind may howl, the clouds may roar,
Thunder crack and storms may pour,
But deep within, a fire burns bright,
Ain't nobody gonna steal my light.
Trials come, waves crash and churn,
Hope may flicker, embers turn,
But roots run deep, where joy takes hold,
Ain't nobody gonna sell me cold.
Shadows creep, doubt whispers low,
Fear may claw, a silent foe,
But I raise my voice, a joyful shout,
Ain't nobody gonna dim my doubt.
Through grit and grind, my spirit leaps,
Over hurdles, valleys steeps,
For in my heart, a song takes flight,
Ain't nobody gonna steal my night.
The world may spin, a dizzy chase,
Smiles may fade, leave an empty space,
But in my soul, a truth takes root,
Ain't nobody gonna steal my loot.
My joy, a treasure hard-won prize,
Sparkling fire in my eyes,
A radiant flame, a burning song,
Ain't nobody gonna do me wrong.
So let them scoff, let shadows fall,
I'll dance with joy, embrace it all,
For in this life, my own to claim,
Ain't nobody gonna steal my flame.
So raise your voice, let your spirit soar,
Sing your song, forevermore,
For in the depths, where joy takes hold,
Ain't nobody gonna steal your soul.
What happens to this poetry embroidered within the walls of my heart,
When the joy of my words are shattered underneath your feet,
Can the torture of your empty moon paint a slithering promise,
Far across into my deep colorless dreamscape of dahlias,
Your dry eyed apologies took me to a mortal with no reflection,
As you hide behind your short lived excuses and homed cruel intentions,
Like a fool I was to believe that a rose could bloom in the peeks of winter,
While broken instruments illustrated a weak illusion,
Shame, These knees you held with such tender affection,
Poured our tales into my abstract dreams,
How you wandered into my eyes casting a waning crescent,
Hoping the fragrant of a swine won’t clear my sight,
I’ve stood by the hills, where it steeps down your hell,
Perhaps the burdens you trust and love are the saint in your spells,
Claiming clarity for a chaos that have you deeply compelled.
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