Lucid Waking

Archive for the ‘Poems’ Category

Ariadne

It’s only a piece of thread
That leads me from this maze
And should it break instead
The map is lost within my mental haze
When fate comes crashing upon
My unprotected head
I’ll sit and whistle meekly
To be saved from harbored dread.
It’s only a piece of thread
Holding together the pieces of my mind
Padded walls await me
Should I be left behind.

St. Patty’s Day: A Tribute

I hate the color green
And don’t have a drop of Irish blood
I’d rather sing “God Save the Queen”
Than cheer “Erin go Bragh!”

I do not like potatoes,
Corn beef, cabbage, or beer
I’d much rather eat tamales
Than the odd produce that appears.

I do not like St. Patty’s Day
But something makes me cheer
Because I like respect and unity
To look forward to every year.

Dear Valentine…

To my dearest Valentine:
I don’t know who you are.
For I’ll confess, there is so much
I want to proclaim my love for.

Perhaps you are my parents,
Or maybe my best friends.
My cats can be quite loving, too,
Or, at least, they just pretend.

Maybe you’re not a “who” at all,
But my favorite “what”—
Mashed potatoes or chai tea,
Cake, whipped cream, or trout.

Perhaps you are not edible—
Maybe you’re my bass!
Or roses, the piano, potpourri
High-heeled shoes or lace.

But whatever you are, Valentine
I’ll love you everyday.
Even if I never figure out
Who you are today.

Ode to the little Things in Life

Fresh apple cider and peppermint tea;
Hot chocolate and raspberries;
Petite fours and potpourri;
Sandwiches with cucumbers and cream cheese;

Teddy bears and porcelain dolls;
Pretty glass bottles and pink lip-gloss;
Venetian masks and a music box;
Books, music, and striped knee socks;

Forests, water, fire, and ice,
Roses, swans, cats, and mice,
Presents, snow, pointe shoes, and dance,
Drawing pencils, dresses, and a second chance,

The ability to push your demons away,
To always look forward to another day,
To breath and stretch and feel awake,
And to have many opportunities to take

Wonderwall by the Brad Mehldau Trio

She had a red Ferrari,
He a limousine.
And though her car was sporty,
She was as smooth as he had seen.

She walked like ice cream melting,
Smelled like honey in the grass.
And though her dress was plain,
She always had high class.

She never drew a crowd,
He walked and people stared.
And though she wanted this attention,
He never seemed to care.

He lived beyond his means,
She far below the line.
And though they’d never met before,
For their friends, it was about time.

(Listen to it)

A Breeze from Alabama by Scott Joplin

It was easy for her to forget her troubles
On old Broadway street.
They transformed the old theater
To play silent pictures
Instead of a stage for recitatives.
She couldn’t believe her luck
When it opened up–
Fifteen cents a ticket
She could afford to see Hollywood
Practically free!

The stock market fell, but she was as happy as could be
Because the price of tickets dropped dramatically
She still had her house and family
And her job hadn’t kicked her out.
Though the only place you saw her was at the movie house
She loved the films that played
Silent, sound, she’d always stay
The movie staff would push her out
As she craned to get a last glimpse of the film
For her tenth time.
She loved the movies–
Silent, sound, jazz, comedy,
It was better than the stage
She had lost her job at the stage
She worked in a factory and hoped
The films would be better to those actors
Than the stage was to her.

(Listen to it)

?

Is there order in our lives?
Can we see past woven lies?
Can we find a pot of gold?
Can we believe everything we’re told?

Is there a limit to too much?
How many hearts can we touch?
How many lives will we change?
How many people will think we’re strange?

Is there a chance to fix the world?
When different flags are unfurled?
And different languages keep us apart?
Can we listen to our central heart?
Is Human nature so long lost,
We won’t weigh the outcome before the cost?

Lemons

“When life gives you lemons,
“Make lemonade.”
But lemonade is still a bit sour.
But you can profit by selling it for 25 cents
At a street corner with a cardboard sign.
There really is no perfect way
To fix things with a band-aid.
You’ll never get something sweet from sour,
But you can get something better with a little
Creativity and luck.

Words

Words can only say so much
Paint can only go so far
Music can only penetrate
The ear of those willing to hear.

So what do we call on to bring a fight
To stop the senseless killing of boys afar
How to we get the world to hear
We’re sorry for stepping in to volunteer

Eventually its all been heard before
And words cannot penetrate broken ears
Paint can not startle overexposed eyes
Music cannot express
The sorrow or pain or cluelessness we feel

Even those who want to express
Can no longer feel the pain
That they once felt before
The years have passed and every person is a statistic
Forgotten and lost

Words can only say so much
Pictures even more
But it’s very hard to impact so much
When we’ve seen it all before.

The Music Box

It was a little box
With eight corners and six sides,
But when you turned the key in back
It sang out lullabies.

The tunes it played were so sweet
It was desired in all the land,
So the owner of the little box
Kept it in his hand.

The little box would sing all night
Until a string broke one day.
And then the little box
Simply refused to play.

But the owner of that little box
Loved it all the same
And fixed up his music box
So it would play again.