Pictures from the Park

In My Rest

My head finds rest among
The blankets wrapped in silver lining.
My eyes are still,
And out of nothing see the shadows dancing.

Upon this mount
My body feels the warmth of comfort.
The world goes silent
And leads me out of violence.

My hands and feet are lifeless,
No grasp is left within my fist,
No step beneath my feet,
Yet still I feel a something in my midst.

It moves and sways,
It speaks to me in blurs,
And yet I see so clear.
I see the smile, I feel the tear.

I feel the wind
Flow through my breathless hair.
I feel the grass and stone
In hands and feet, that still lay prone.

These shapes - so real -
And yet somehow surreal
In that their clarity is stained
By something unexplained.

What something could it be
That brings upon the dancing shadows,
The dark light,
The colored white?

And even, may I ask,
What proof is there?
How do I know?
How can I, upon these things, swear?

The myster is great.
I cannot say I see these things,
And yet, I do.
I know the thoughts they bring.

So still I lay my head
Upon the mount so sweet.
And in my rest, I live.
In my rest, I am complete.

-Phil

Thoughts

Alone among the thoughts that loll inside,
That cling to feelings and all things within
My mind.
The words that I can't speak are stuck in reach,
And still I find the need to let myself
Unwind.
In life I see the past and wish for more.
Instead, I only see the future, soon
Behind.
The world looks unto me - at least that's how
It seems sometimes; and answers are my goal
To find.
The darkness creeps upon my mind in thought,
And hides my sanity and muse so that
I'm blind.
But sometimes - only sometimes - my head is
Clear, and everything becomes so bright. Thoughts
Refined.

-Phil

Where Horses Roam

In mists of sounds and smells I sit alone
Perhaps alone, at least.
Though still I hear the distant, whisp'ring drone
The silence is increased.

I touch the grass, allowing every blade
To crease beneath my hand.
This place the universe shall not invade;
It is my home - my land.

I watch the horses running wild and free,
So jealous of their lore.
They understand so much that I can't see
And live without all wars.

I heed the people living here, and wait
For them to speak their piece.
For wisdom always comes from their estate
And I have need for ease.

So much as happened here in decades past -
So many have been found.
This land is great - will never be surpassed -
Its blessings are so sound.

This is the place where horses dance and roam,
Where peace is spoken,
Where many creatures live and call their home,
Where hearts are ne'er broken.

-Phil

Untitled

Here I stand upon my hallowed mount.
I heard the wisp'ring wind and gusts of cool
Air, filling and fresh'ning the forest. I count
The leaves that cling to my limbs, all while pools
Of water glist'n below my roots.
I feed, and let my thirst be quenched for now,
Building up my health, readying to drop my fruit
For 'tis my joy to share my wealth
With those who sit beneath my bough.

A bird appears and sings upon my arm
To all my friends and neighbors that I dearly love.
Its tune so sweet, with simple charm,
That all the trees rejoice, and praise the birds above.
But all good things must end in time,
And birds must fly again with flock
So this fair creature lifted off with one last chime,
And sailed away
In clouds of dust and rock.

The season comes and carries me to wistful sleep
It strips me bare, naked from that which gives me life.
The depth of my dreams haunts me - it creeps
Over my skin, and keeps my rest from being rife.
And so I wait - for centuries, it seems.
I look into the past, remembering the verve
That I once knew. Rememb'ring sunlight's gleams.
So swiftly did those days desert my mind.
I must remember; I must preserve.

Unto the future now I look.
So many things that I will see again:
The wind, the bird, the pools, the brook.
So much is new, though - so much I've yet to gain
For sleep does not last forever;
Life will always drop its seed once more
And start it on a new endeavor.
Perhaps one day it will find its way
To endless lands, and sound its roar.

-Phil

Ode to a Bad Joker

There once was a joker so bad
That he made all the world quite sad
All the children cried
All the mothers sighed;
The joker, named Henry, was mad.

-Phil

To Be

To be a day away
From all the things that bring me pain.
To stand and see the gray
To sit and watch the storm and rain.

To be alive and see the dead
To feel, but only feel an ache.
To stare at life, as it is spread
To watch it break, and quake, and shake.

To sleep but not to rest
To listen to a voice, but hear
The silence of its quest.
To laugh but feel a tear.

Is this the life we live?
To see and hear, and yet stay mute
To have but not to give
To be a tree yet have no roots?

What does it mean, to be?
How can we make this all worth while?
We must believe - be free!
And to the world: we simply smile.

-Phil

If I Only Knew

The answers are never simple
The right is sometimes wrong
And the wrong is sometimes right.
Or is it?
If only I knew.
The world is so crumpled.
So many signs and songs.
Should I run or walk or leap or fly?
I don't know.
If only I knew.

All layers of earth are mixed
Reality is nothing more than blur.
I try to read the map; to find North.
South, East, West...
If only I knew.
We try to get it right, get it fixed
Put it in the pot and let it stir.
So on and so on and so forth.
It's a test
If only I knew.

Then fate comes knockin' on the door.
"Where are you?" it says to me.
I don't answer. I don't want to.
It's too hard.
If only I knew.
Every day it gets me at my very core
I want to know it all. I want to see
I need to put it all together.
Where's the glue?
If only I knew...
If only I knew...
If only I knew...

-Phil

What Are You?

What is this thing?
I do not know.
I can not find out what it is
And therefore cannot grow.

It vexes me,
This strange device.
So strange; strangely mysterious.
Is it sweet? Is it nice?

Or is it bad?
Or even sad?
I cannot tell what tool this is.
It makes me so... so... mad!

I feel so dumb.
My speech is plain.
This strange machine outsmarted me.
Yes, there it goes - my brain.

Damn you, strange thing!
I cannot think.
When will this long misery end?
Please get yourself in sync.

Alas you won't.
You can't, I know.
You've outsmarted me, once again.
You are a so-and-so.

-Phil

The Fate of Kingdoms

The kingdoms come to share their fate
To make a stand and strike the slate.
The hate and wrath of evil come against them.
In full strength the kingdoms gather
In the valley of their fathers -
Or brothers, rather,
They are the same blood, the same life,
And together, now, they fight.
Among the trees they taste their final breaths of air
For soon they take a burden they cannot bare.
The wretched sound of screams
Tonight will haunt their dreams.
On the morrow they will face
The enemy; on horseback they will chase.
Then they remember their kingdom's time
Their wealth, their fiefs, their lives sublime.
Was it so long ago they themselves took place
Among this realm of bloss'ming roses?
So many years of peace.
So many years released.
So let them fight to guard their land!
Let them take one final stand.
In this valley, they'll share their fate.
The enemy is at the gate.

-Phil

The Beginning

The darkness slowly creeps upon the earth.
In chaos pits of shadow loom above
While skies of dusk below the ground show girth.
No order is there in this place - just love.

A shape, a rhyme, a light is given to
This place. Guise and form take hold of chaos,
Destroying disarray, and bringing hue.
With love this world takes mold - around, across.

Within an instant, oceans spread throughout
Upon the clouds of dust the dust holds firm.
No longer does the world have need or drought.
In harmony, existence lives affirmed.

And in this perfect world the beasts take life.
There is no anger, hate, revenge, or strife.

-Phil

The Breeze

The breeze flows softly through the air with help
From clouds that glow in sunlight's shining tone.
The breeze turns to a wind, a howl, a yelp;
Forsaking fowl, as feathered creatures moan.
The forests weep and cry for winds to stop.
The leaves are beat and crushed beneath the beast
That lurks and creeps in search of seeds to drop.
The wind, the cry, that fights the world when 'tis released.
Not always is the breeze so cruel to earth;
Not always does it turn the dirt to sky.
On some sweet nights it acts with cheer and mirth;
On some sweet nights it sails the clouds on high -
Above the world where wind is needed, Where
the people hope and wish to touch the air.

-Phil

The Silence

In peace and quiet voices sound,
The endless depths of nothing pound.
My eardrums burst, while windows crack.
The sound of silence hits and hacks.

In nothingness I hear the noise:
Erupting calm and boiling lull.
The emptiness destroys all thoughts,
Destroys all chance to think and mull.

The sound - sweet sound - of breath will save
me. Interrupting tortured sleep.
And silence shall not overcome me;
No longer shall you make me weep.

But still, I must admit to you
The twists and turns that silence drew.
My suffering has long been sheathed,
As long as silence lets me breathe.

-Phil

Project

So I have been thinking, and even though it's maybe a little late for new year's resolutions, and since the first month of 2010 is already over, I'm going to begin an 11-month project. Every month, I will select a different activity to take part it. Throughout that month, I will do just a little bit of that activity every day. Basically, I just want to expand my skills, and allow myself maybe 30 minutes a day to try something new. So, with that short introduction, Month #1 begins, with poetry month. Every day, i will write a new poem. Doesn't matter what kind of poem, how long it is, anything. Just has to be poetic. Sound good? good.

-Phil