Stick to It or You Can Run But You Can't Hide

Not gonna do it
Not gonna play
I’ve had enough of these little games

I’m tired of going
I just need to rest
Since when is fun an endurance test

I should never have started
To chase a mistake
I should just give up but my pride is at stake

To learn something new
Is not much to ask
I thought it was fun now the whole day has passed

Tripping and falling
You don’t care how I sweat
You don’t know who your messing with I’ll get you yet

What am I saying
This has to stop
Why must you go can’t you just let it drop

You’re cute and you’re funny
And you don’t mean to stress
I just don’t understand dog why you can’t learn to fetch

The Uninvited

OK so you’re gorgeous, I’m forced to admit
You even look good when you are soaking wet
Commanding attention wherever you go
You arrive with a flourish and put on quite a show

It’s hard to believe how some hope just to see you
I have seen all I want; to me you are old news
The entourage with you seems very nice
But their bright sparkling faces hide cold hearts of ice

You don’t worry that your welcome maybe overstayed
You party all night and into the days
And what of the cost to clean up what you do
The comfort of others means nothing to you

Am I jealous of the power that you seem to yield
Over all that I know despite how I feel
Others have run to avoid your displays
But I stand my ground and count out the days

Until you move on and there’s nothing left
But the remnants you leave in a big ugly mess
For a time someone else will be front and center
But I know you’ll be back for an encore oh Winter

Striking it Real

When I went to Colorado to work on a guest ranch there was one other thing that I wanted to do out West more than anything else.  I wanted to visit a ghost town.  Not a tourist trap with gunfight reenactments, and souvenir hats but a real ghost town with deserted buildings, tumbleweeds rolling down the streets and at least one battered wooden sign swinging from a hook and creaking in the wind. You know, a real ghost town just like the ones on TV and in the movies.

I bought a book about how to find some of the few historic towns that remained untouched.  The closest one to the ranch was a town that grew up around silver mines high in the mountains.  According to the book, at one time the town had 5 restaurants and 3 saloons accommodating the miners and their families.  I followed the map to the location and knew I had found it when I saw the picturesque head frame of the mine shaft that was still standing and a historical marker describing the silver strike as one of the richest ever made.

The only other structure that could be seen was a small shack a short distance from the mine.  I hiked up to it and carefully stepped through the open door and onto the broken and rotting floor boards.  The sun pierced through the scattered holes in the roof as the dust I disturbed floated through its shafts.  There were tattered pieces of wall paper clinging to what remained of the walls.   A small wooden table stood at one end but other than that it was empty. Imagining anyone living, and working in this remote place was difficult if not impossible. None of the re-creations I had seen even came close to what living in such isolated and harsh conditions must have been like.

I wasn’t disappointed by what I found.  It might not have lived up to my expectations but it was real and it was the kind of reality that matured my thoughts and made me want to seek the truth instead of chasing fantasies.

 

Love Letters

Sometimes when you are far away
I just don’t know what to say

Sometimes I hear a melody
And we’re together as I sing

Sometimes you’re unbelievable
Outrageous and hysterical

Sometimes you are quite personal
Somehow reaching to my soul

Sometimes your dark intensity
Reveals a passion that runs deep

Sometimes it’s very clear to me
That you and I were meant to be

Sometimes when I need to be heard
I cannot live without you, words

 

 

Get Over It

There’s such a thing as stalking

            There are people I can call

 Why can’t you see it’s not meant to be

             No matter what you saw

 It wasn’t a tease or even a glance

             The whole encounter was just by chance

 The view through that window was dim at best

             I’m afraid you just imagined the rest

 You have got to stop calling late at night

             Your obsessiveness is just not right

 And even if I let you in

             What makes you think love would begin

 I really don’t want to break your heart

             But the only choice is to stay apart

 There are things you just don’t understand

             That would get in the way of romantic plans

 Long before her heart could be won

             The fix was in, the deed was done

 Makes no difference how you carry on

             She will resist your fatal charms

 I know you think that your all that

             But after all, Tom, you’re just a cat

On a Clear Day You Can Drive Forever Or What Exit, I Didn't See an Exit!

                I have always loved road trips, even family vacations in an overloaded Suburban with 3 kids and 2 dogs.  As travel goes it is not the fastest, cheapest or even the most comfortable method but is almost always an adventure.

                It is relaxing and exciting at the same time.  One minute you are admiring the scenery and the next following a detour through tiny towns that seem frozen in time.  Even getting lost can be the highlight of a trip when you discover places and attractions that you never knew existed.  And yes, I even stop at historical markers.

The unusual names of the roads, towns and rivers that I pass always spark my imagination.  I invent my own scenarios about how they got their names based on what I know of the history and culture of the area. On a recent trip to North Carolina it was near the end of my driving day when I caught the name of a river out of the corner of my eye. I must have been tired because I thought it said the “French Bread River”.  Before long I had invented an elaborate tale about loaves of bread being used to smuggle information across the river to General Lee.

 Sometime later I saw another sign noting the “South Branch of the French Broad River”.  Feeling rather foolish I realized my mistake.  It wasn’t bread it was broad.  Laughing at my original scenario I told myself to reign in my imagination and get off the road for the night.

How silly to think that they would name a river after loaves of bread.  Tomorrow, I thought, I will try to imagine who the French Broad was that inspired the name.

My Pass Through Account

I always need it

                Always want it

                So does everybody else

                There’s only so much

                I am given

                Where it goes no one can tell

                I try to save it

                Make arrangements

                Plan ahead so I don’t waste it

                I Guard it closely

                Check it often

                It never lasts I have to face it

                Although precious

                Try to share it

                It makes a special gift I find

                I long for more

                But can regret it

                Wishing it away at times

                All I know is

                I won’t need it

                When eternity is mine

                So I’ll try to

                Spend it wisely

                And make the best of all – My time

Them

They started so small we could hardly see

What they became happened gradually

But in time they overwhelmed

Blending together so we couldn’t tell

Hanging around our activities

They took what they needed to grow and we

took them for granted as we lived our lives

Enjoying their presence as the days went by

When suddenly they began to change

Each one was different but somehow the same

Then overnight the darkness came

The wind grew cold and then the rain

At first they danced as if with glee

To celebrate a victory

Then filling the air with a swirling sea

Of color and sound they fell at our feet – leaves.

The Creeper

My breath is held

My Body Stiffens

My Flesh begins to crawl

From the edge of dreams

I saw

A figure move along the wall

I search the dark

In silent horror

I pray that I’m mistaken

My heart is pounding

Through my chest

My common sense is shaken

As sleep bows to reality

My eyes regain some clarity

Suddenly my fears forsaken

I know for sure I have awakened

As horrors go there were none at all

Just Cat shadows on the wall