NaPoWriMo Day 30 - Dreams

Dreams

Dreams come and go, yarn on the loom
forming a tapestry, a quilt, a story
being told with each thread pulled
from a different stock. Individual
strings are mixed throughout, grand
picture never to be completed, never
fully connecting, waiting forevermore,
waiting for stitches, to be made whole
at last. But when the dreamer awakens
threads are cut, stories are twisted
lost amongst the shadows of daylight,
blankets tossed asunder, care ungiven
to the unformed quilt of lost dreams.

NaPoWriMo Day 29 - The Dunes

The Dunes

A small parking lot sits next to tracks
where trains carry freight and fellows
away from the lakes and the woods,
towards the ever expanding distant city.
I am not on the train, nor following
the tracks, walking instead, between
tracks and trees, under the cackling
power lines. A symphony of both machine
and animal fills the fresh air, smelling
of water and sand, leaves and the faint
hint of train exhaust, mingling throughout.
The path curves, no more tracks or power
lines, a forest erupts around me, a deer
stops nibbling to watch with wary eye
this stranger to his domain, but my steps
carry me past the deer and further, further
through the trees, up the hills, towards
the scent of water, growing stronger,
past the ever changing horizon. The ground
grows soft, sandy, though the trees remain
dense as ever, until they remain no more,
disappeared, as if swallowed by something
unseen and unknown, replaced with mounds
of sand, like drifts of granular snow,
lapping waters making a pristine backdrop.

NaPoWriMo Day 28 - Single Malt Scotch

Single Malt Scotch

All across the college campus, cheap
cans of beer are all the rage, drunk
nights and drunk days, vomit induced
hangovers hosting an eternal party.
Occasionally special occasions arise
and students spring for cheap tequila
or vodka or whiskey to mix their nights
celebrating loss of memory, inhibition,
and the contents of their stomachs.
They cry out in joy, claiming fun times
are theirs for the taking, but I pity
them, never taking the time to sit back
and enjoy the elegantly refined taste
of liquid gold, a single malt scotch.

NaPoWriMo Day 27 - Novelist & Poet

Novelist & Poet

A novelist and a poet walk into a bar,
or rather a coffee shop, with wi-fi,
of course, as is most often the case,
and fight for a seat near the plug
so their laptops can live, allowing
them to build and create word worlds
where everybody can see them, hear
the tics of fast fingers, typing
nothing, the words on the page less
important than the image of a writer,
hard at work creating. God of a world.

NaPoWriMo Day 26 - Bushido

Bushido

It is ingrained, intrinsically known
unuttered and unwritten, yet trained
from birth through sensei's actions.
Honor and morality, no room remaining
for greed or selfishness, a balance
naturally occurring, between souls
animal, plant, and mineral, earthly
scales delicately stacked, a narrow
path, a recipe of success followed
by necessity to the unwritten letter,
the difference between an elegant
masterpiece, surviving through ages,
and an infamous disgrace, a rancid
concoction on history's taste buds.

NaPoWriMo Day 25 - Model Trains

Model Trains

Electric engine, a few cars, caboose
circumnavigating without purpose,
around and around, room revolving
with each subsequent pass, sounds
of cheering children mingle gently
with the tin horn, coming in view.

Days turn to years, track is laid
piece by piece. More cars join
their brothers, and eventually
trains multiply, a simple loop
evolves, an entire metropolis,
the inner child still cheering.

NaPoWriMo Day 24 - The Forge

The Forge

The air is filled to the brim
with a heavy heat, and flashes
of smokey sparks, fireflies
wafting through the tiny room.

Coals of yellow, red, orange
form the centerpiece, a table
serving tempered steel, folded
by learned hands into perfection.

The metal does not glisten, glows
rather, possessed by the rising
sun, symbol of its motherland,
another elegant katana is born.

NaPoWriMo Day 23 - Asphalt Serengeti

Asphalt Serengeti

The varying herds gather and travel
together yet separate. All heading
to different watering holes, a pack
of like-minded animals, metallic skins
of all possible colors, glistening
brightly in the early morning sun.

Large and small alike share the tarred
plains, some running alone, others
packed into tightly knit groups,
practically touching each other
speed dictated by the slowest
of any particular lined bunch.

All across the Asphalt Serengeti
herds form and disperse, randomly
curving and circling around over
and over, returning to their nests
as dusk falls over the plains

NaPoWriMo Day 22 - Papi

Papi

Is a word you introduced to me,
can mean a child or a lover,
but to me it is much more.
A lover and a friend, confidant,
an ally through time itself.
Every plane needs a copilot,
somebody ready and willing
to take the wheel, and guide
through turbulent skies.
You are my papi, my everything,
both the sun and the rain
that help me to grow.

NaPoWriMo Day 21 - Lakes

Lakes

There is something serene
about looking over a lake
and allowing your mind
to wonder around aimlessly
as if a leaf on the gentle
waves, lapping constantly
against the grassy shore.
Letting the lake's motion
soothe your very soul,
as the thunder rolls.

NaPoWriMo Day 20 - Homogeneity

Homogeneity

People always tend to believe
everybody is of the same mold.
Dog people, cat people, people
good with kids, all truly think
that anybody who does not believe
the same as them just needs time.
Time to change, time to adapt,
to experience the joys of kids,
dog, or cat. If you lack belief
in my God, you just need to be told
and once you understand, you will see,
you will join, will accept this truth.
If you do not like getting drunk,
or high, you just need to try once
and then you will understand.

No I won't. Because I am not you,
I am me, nothing more nor less.

NaPoWriMo Day 19 - Destruction

Destruction

There is something about destroying,
a rush, an explosion of expression
that can never be exactly replicated
that sets it apart from creating
something new, something different
something designed to stand against
the test of time. An air of finality
surrounds destruction, while creation
only lends itself to an eventual end.
But that is the very reason creation
exists, futile endeavors in an instant
destroyed to applause and exaltation.

NaPoWriMo Day 18 - If Life Were a Computer Program

If Life Were a Computer Program

And I were the programmer, how different would it be
To have complete control, yes, but also responsibility?
There would be plenty of planning, designing every step
but also bugs a plenty and eternal risk of crashing.
Would there be time for testing? Or would a fatal error,
once compiled, be the end, if life were a computer program?
Could earlier subroutines be rewrote to match the tech?
Or would a novice hack be forever more saved on the hard
drive of the world? Would the rules of Conway or Asimov
reign supreme, or new ones created, if life were a program?

NaPoWriMo Day 17 - Weeping Willow

Weeping Willow

Why does the willow hang
it's head so low? Shame,
sadness, fear, embarrassment
we may never know the truth

The wind whistles through
the willows weeping leaves,
lifting up, like a joke
trying to cheer a friend

NaPoWriMo Day 16 - Power Lies

Power Lies

"With whom does power lie?"
asked a wise and ancient man,
"With Kings or Gods? With Gold
or Steel? Smarts or Strength?
Just where does power lie?"

A monk stood up, bowed down low,
"Gods are greater than any man
True power is theirs, alone."
A knight scoffed, "Gods are good,
but they give power unto the King."

A peasant was next, "Gold", said he
"Kings tax, Gods send rain, but riches
can solve any problem." "Steel!" cried
a sellsword, "is what the rich men buy,
to exercise their power. Steel is power."

A philosopher tutted, "Wisdom has ways,
besting steel, knowledge cannot be bought."
A blacksmith pounded his chest, "Strength
can mold the Steel and mint the Gold,
Strength is self-made, that is power."

"With whom does power lie?"
The monk asked yet again
"Each and every one of us
decides that very thing.
Power lies where we lay it."

NaPoWriMo Day 15 - Unlocked Doors

Unlocked Doors

There is a place in Michigan
down past an old dirt road
where the doors are never locked
indeed, I doubt if locks exist.

Whether house, car, shed, barn,
there is no difference, no keys
are needed, and yet inhabitants
have never felt more secure.

There is a place in Michigan
down past an old dirt road
where hearts are always open
handbuilt houses need no locks

NaPoWriMo Day 14 - Sword Master

Sword Master

The sword master is a learned soul,
experienced, disciplined in the art
of the blade. A sharpened extension
not only of arm, but also of soul.
A skill woven in the very fiber
of his being, and while the master
remains capable of ending life,
that is not his purpose, nor duty.
Yet the pen is mightier than the sword
and mastery shows extension of wit.
Ending life is still a possibility
but the true master creates it.

NaPoWriMo Day 13 - Snow in Texas

Snow in Texas

Snow in Texas is a beautiful thing,
yet also frightening, like a strange
beast, seldom seen, walking amongst
people. Every howling wind a growl,
screaming animosity and hatred,
threatening to throw to the ground,
any fool so unwise as to challenge
its authority and might.

Snow in Texas is a magnificent thing,
a worldly canvas, nature's artist
ready and willing to be molded,
formed and reformed, a masterpiece,
though temporary, that remains
in the hearts of the children
who rarely glimpse the purity
that has befallen them.

NaPoWriMo Day 12 - Moments

Moments

We are all living in a world,
a world of moments, snapshots,
glimpses of timeless scenes
reliving them through memories,
unable to edit a single frame.

But there is still the cutting
room, there is still time
to build a collage, the best
moments, combined, into something
more than just a moment.

NaPoWriMo Day 11 - Wrong Number

Wrong Number

A familiar tone sounds, vibration
in my pocket, a phone comes out.
Glancing at the number, recognition
does not come. I am not expecting
a call, the number is unfamiliar,
strange, like an unknown language,
I am not intrigued, truly uninterested
in what the stranger has to say
but curiosity grows ever stronger.
The ringing stop, screen goes dark.
Nothing, as if the death has taken
this unexpected intruder, but I stare
for minutes, wondering if a message
will arrive, explaining just who
it was that attempted to reach
out to me, but did not succeed.
No message is left
and I am left
wondering

NaPoWriMo Day 10 - The Dancing Flames

The Dancing Flames

Act with an air of immortality,
gluttonous appetite, eating
through all that surrounds
them; the fuel and the very air
necessary for its life. Ravenous,
consuming all until, suicidal,
there is nothing left to take.
He does not pause to ponder
that the resources provided
are finite, they appear unending,
until it is at last too late,
with nothing saved aside,
the ravaging beast vanquishes
himself, ever unaware the end
approaches, even as the lights
flicker weakly.

NaPoWriMo Day 9 - The Scarecrow

The Scarecrow

Spends his days hung up
in a field, his job his name
never asking for a day off
or to leave work early
or for a raise or a promotion
though deep down inside, wishing
for more than to just sit
in a field, scaring crows

'Perhaps', he thinks to himself
'Those crows are not so bad,
after all. There is plenty grain
here for the farmer and his family,
and this has been my office
for as long as I can remember,
I should be able to do with it
what I please, for once.'

And so one fateful day he dropped
from his post, tucked the loose
straw back into his coat, brushing
off the dust of an eternity
and waited
and waited
and waited some more
for his first feathered friend

At last long last a crow flew
down, and landed on a tree
far from the scarecrow's reach.
'What's the game? Why, the stick
has been removed from your ass.
You are not nearly as frightening,
as menacing, as cruel. So why,
oh why, have you ended up so?'

'Alas, old crow, I have retired
to just sit still I have no desire.
All these years I have watched
you fly, away from here, away
from me. To serve the farmer
who let my shirt rot in rain
and scorching sun, never caring
nor noticing how hard I worked.'

The crow came closer and cocked
his head, hearing but unsure
if his former foe was serious.
'I trust you not,' said the crow
'and can you blame me? But I love
the way your buttons shine,
they glisten heavenly in this sun
give one to me, a token of honesty.'

So the scarecrow nodded and reached
for the specks of gold adorning
his front, but the crow flew forward,
tiny talons tearing into the plaid,
farmer's shirt, and one by one
each and every button, plucked
from its place, and the crow flew
far away, glittering in the clouds.

His shirt was shredded, his straw
a mess, the scarecrow hobbled back
to his stick in the mud, pulling
himself back onto his perch, watching
the sky for signs of the crow returning,
and return he did, the moon rising
the scarecrow struck, and killed the bird
stringing it up, a warning to others

NaPoWriMo Day 8 - Sanctity of Love

Sanctity of Love

I hear on the news, rants
and raves, of how groups
seek to destroy the sanctity
of the institution of marriage
but they neglect to mention
the word love, as if poison
and should it cross scowling
lips they would surely die

This seems so formal, professional
as if marriage is a business
and God the CEO, ever striving
to please the stockholders
but love is primal, passionate
without concern for profits
much like the God of the Bible
"because God is love."

Webster claims that sanctity
is Godliness; Peter claims
that God is love, why oh why
then is the Godliness of marriage
so filled with hate, malice,
and the desire to control
what love is pure, what love
deserves to be celebrated

Love is more important
than listening to the windy
whispers of hypocrites
those ungodly servants of God.
So let the politicians
keep their institutions
but stand up to defend
the sanctity of love.

NaPoWriMo Day 7 - September Mist

September Mist

Your name was September Mist
though we all called you Misty
after the color of your coat.
I used to joke you were my aunt
with a beard, grandma's baby
girl, grandma's Schnauzer

You lived a life of luxury,
like a retired executive
golf was your favorite things.
The way the wind blew through
your hair, and into those deep,
dark eyes, as you rode shotgun
in your own personal golf cart.

Though you never cared for clubs,
you kept a collection of balls
always ready for the chase, down
a hallway or across the range
and if the throw was just right,
your mouth open wide, a trap
you managed a hole in one
running back, full of pride.

You loved to bark and run, play
and go for rides and walks,
and thought your eyes showed
the extent of your territory
But old age comes to us all
and you discovered the darkness
as your eyesight dimmed to black.

Your name was September Mist
but we always called you Misty
and as we remember you, our eyes
take on your namesake, and fill
with tears. A dog who lived above
her stature, grandma's best friend.

NaPoWriMo Day 6 - Bookshelf Boulevard

Bookshelf Boulevard

A trip on an interstate
exit signs glowing, which
path should I take?
Exit seven, Rowling Road,
advertises the Hogwarts
Hotel on a blue attractions
sign, but further down I know
lies the Tolkein Expressway.
Or should I turn back around?
Revisit Card Tower and play
Ender's Game? Should I make
my way to the Ruins of Gorlan,
or ski in Icewind Dale? Watch
the Game of Thrones as King's
Clash and Crows Feast, or visit
my friend Elric in Melnibone?

The Winds of Winter run
through my hair, fantasy
surrounds me. I take a ride
on Bookshelf Boulevard
and not a soul can find me.

NaPoWriMo Day 5 - Texas Hold Em

Texas Hold Em

The deal begins, two cards strong
a few are dealt pockets, and some
may start with deuce and seven,
off suit, with nary a hope, but
there is still hope, still the flop,
     the turn,
          the river,
nobody draws dead out of the gate
pocket rockets can still be beat
by sevens full of twos

The flop comes up, shared by all
equal opportunity, regardless
of the cards you were dealt
when this journey first began
you have a better notion of where
the cards lead, but there is still
the turn,
     the river,
chances remain to build your hand
to better your odds

It's late in the game, but cards
remain on the table, in the deck
ready to make it or break it,
if only you hold on, see the next
great adventure unfold, just a flip
a flip of a card, all will be known
the mystery done, the dealer
takes his toll from under your tongue
and you take that ride down
the River Styx.

NaPoWriMo Day 4 - Traiku

Traiku

Waves across the lake
a gaggle of honking geese
skimming the surface

and mallard couples
heads underwater, tails up
bobbing like buoys

water's edge, young boy
welcoming the start of spring
fishing pole in hand

NaPoWriMo Day 3 - Damsel in Distress

Damsel in Distress

He rode from town to town,
steel armor shining bright
in service of the royal crown
this great and virtuous knight.
When asked about his noble quest,
"I seek a damsel in distress"

In the first town to which he rode
there stood a man, wrinkled and old
patching a hole in his tiny abode.
"Sir knight, if I could be so bold
I need your help, I must confess"
"No, I seek a damsel in distress"

The next town over he did find
a small boy with a bloody shirt.
"Sir if you could be so kind,
a ride back home, since I'm hurt."
"Sorry, but forward I must press
for I seek a damsel in distress"

A third town lay over the ridge
the only thing left in his way
a raging river and wooden bridge.
He heard a loud frantic neigh
a mule by the current oppressed"
"Nay, I seek a damsel in distress.

Past the town, a desert without end
filled with snakes and storms of sand
his shield useless, unable to defend
but in the distance, to lend a hand,
mule, man, and boy, I do confess
come to save a knight in distress

NaPoWriMo Day 2 - Subtitles

Subtitles

A Japanese anime presents
two choices, a dilemma,
original, English subtitles
or new audio, dubbed over

Without a thought, I always
always choose the same
as it was originally written
so should it be enjoyed

Tonight, however, a new thought
on why the Tower of Babel
lay uncompleted, languages
across the world divided

Why desire a unified language?
Why seek an official language
as if one is any better, best
worthy of being elevated

Understanding is important,
learning all, unfeasible.
But, if given the choice,
I would take a world of subtitles

NaPoWriMo Day 1 - The Beach

The Beach

Walking through the realm of sand
water's edge rocking back, forth
always receding, as if avoiding
prints left by two bare feet

Carrying scents of salt and dreams
a gentle breeze stirs up the sand
memories of the past, lifting wings
gulls take flight across the sea

The shells and rocks cause no harm
to these practiced and calloused feet
but hanging tight to every pore, sand
has found a vessel for its journey

At last the tide gains its strength
rushing over the rocks the shells
cleaning off the feet, removing
any signs the sand was out of place

The beach is clear, undisturbed
no sign remains of two bare feet
no story left to tell the tale
of a traveling grain of sand