The Vessel

Pin It A single vessel on a stormy sea
so sail the tides do I
Far from the safe port which
once so gently housed me.

Left to the vastness of waves
which threaten to capsize
and sash against the cold, silent
sea bottom below.
I rise yet again
refusing defeat.

Something told Teachinfourth...

Pin It Something told the Wild Geese
Rachel Field

Something told the wild geese
It was time to go;
Though the fields lay golden
Something whispered. . . snow.

Leaves were green and stirring,
Berries luster-glossed,
But beneath warm feathers
Something cautioned . . . frost

All the sagging orchards
steamed with amber spice
But each wild breast stiffened
and remembered ice.

Something told the wild geese
it was time to fly.
Summer sun was on their wings
Winter in their cry

As I awoke this morning, I stepped outside and found myself surrounded by a world arrayed of ice crystals - like truckloads of diamond shavings - covering nearly everything. The bitter cold bite of the morning air invigorated my lungs and made me smile.


Though I am not a huge fan of winter, it is wonderful - that time - when autumn and winter meet.

Prayers in the Attic

Pin It Another day starts and I talk in my head,
An uttered prayer and then roll out of bed.
I ne’r did pause or think to know,
About what I’d asked or how it’d go.

I was anxious yes, for another day,
When prayer was through and it was time for play.
I quickly finished my hurried prayer,
No thought to where it went from there.

For days on end and then for weeks,
My prayers were often quick and weak.
For I had things, yes thing to do,
My prayers were said, oh that I knew.

The years swept by and one day I crept,
Up our creaky attic steps.
I was curious then what I may find,
Up in a space unused by time.

I stumbled o’er something on the floor,
Dusty covered and left unstored.
I bent down and brushed away the dust,
From the hardened surface, caked with rust.

I drew in a gasp for there it lay,
A prayer I once had thought I’d prayed.
I saw another and dozens ‘round,
Prayers I’d prayed thought heaven-bound.

I could only then wonder why they stay,
And not off on their journey so far away.
I then felt tears escape my eyes,
As I realized that I had not tried.

I could recall with each one,
The things I’d prayed but left undone.
The Lord hadn’t answered or so I thought,
But he couldn’t return calls He never got.

I see that prayers to heaven never go,
When spoken thoughtless by us below.
With confidence renewed I then said,
A vow I would do better instead.

For never again did I want the disgrace,
Of letter to God in this dusty space.
And so let us try with power spent,
Into heartfelt prayers to ensure they’re sent.

—Teachinfourth

Blinding whiteness

Pin It My fingers rest upon the keyboard tonight. The cursor blinks incessantly in front of me. It’s taunting me…daring me to write.

I look at all of that white space. It seems so daunting.

So vast.

So empty.

It waits for my words to fill it, to make it become real. So, I write…my fingers groping blindly onward; reaching for the keys that will sound an orchestra of words at my touch.

I play them slowly at first, as if trying on a new pair of shoes. They feel comfortable…it is in this moment that I find peace.

The cursor still blinks as my fingers begin to dance back and forth…feeling the rhythm of the keys before me. Explosions of words now appear where once there was nothing.

As I pause in somber tranquility, the cursor blinks onward. However, it is no longer taunting me…but instead beckoning me onward…instructing me to write until I have squeezed out the final thoughts of which I am capable this eve.

I stand back and gaze at the once-white canvas stretched before me, now arrayed with a multitude of colorful expression.

Tonight I am the artist, the musician, and the call of the muses has been answered.

I am finished.

Playing on the radio

Pin It

Summer’s here and I’m drivin’ this road
Leaving the past behind me
I’m seeing all of these new horizons
The things I’ve been too blind to see (because I’m)

A lover in love
A child’s heart that’s broken
A person lost and not found
So I’m…

Turning the dials, scanning the stations
And I’m searching high and low
I’m trying to find, hoping to hear
This song, that song, my song
Playing on the radio

I step on the gas and the miles fall away
They drop away like autumn’s leaves
I’m leaving behind my yesterday self
My new life I’m trying hard to seize

And with the change and these new roads
Always seems to come a time I’m lost
But I’m done with the map, away with the charts,
I’ll follow on the wind and yet not be tossed

Won’t somebody help me please (because I’m)

A lover in love
A child’s heart that’s broken
A person lost and not found
So I’m…

Turning the dials, scanning the stations
And I’m searching high and low
I’m trying to find, hoping to hear
This song, that song, my song
Playing on the radio

A ship to be safe needs a harbor
A soul to find rest it needs peace
A ship to be moored needs an anchor
And a soul it requires release

So I turn up the sound and let it all go
I let the wind it all carry away
I live my life, I live each moment
Not just for tomorrow but for today

And I’m
A lover in love
A child’s heart that’s broken
A person lost and not found
So I’m…

Turning the dials, scanning the stations
And I’m searching high and low
I’m trying to find, hoping to hear
This song, that song, my song
Playing on the radio

No tune other than that which plays incessantly in my head.

This, my friends, is a hit.

By the way, the photo was by somebody else...

I miss the desert

Pin It Yesterday I was listening to a song as I drove, as I did, I felt a sudden longing for the desert, for my place of solace. In order to help satisfy that desire, I decided to read some of the poetry I'd written on a visit I had down there about three years ago...


Wildhorse Butte

Crickets chime in a perfect orchestra
As the stars glimmer overhead in solemn silence
Darkened buttes stand inky black against the luminous sky
As the Milky Way drifts overhead, rich and lazy
The desert whispers its secrets on the breath of a night zephyr
As my prickling ears listen to its unspoken words

Alone

The desert wind calls my name
As the aged sandstone looks onward silently
The stillness of the moment beckons me further
Beyond the well-traveled roads I’ve walked before

I constantly am seeking

Images of a distant past,
Play in the stillness of the moment
Echoes of yet another place of time
Strewn and dusty, yet unbroken

I constantly am listening

Red and amber-colored stone cliffs
Watch me silently as I find myself lost amidst distant and lonely canyons
Sighs from the rocky crags find their way to me
Like abandoned souls caught in the wind

I am alone, and in this I find my solace.