Band aid, please

Haiku . . . . God bless you!

The first time I read a poem written in the Haiku style . . . . I mumbled to myself "And then . . . " Nothing. Three scantly clothed lines. If that poem were a girl, you would have thought it was a stripper. Bare and unashamed. You know what I mean? I am stereotyping here, please play along. That poem was bare, unashamed of what it was, had an attitude and I would only throw a one dollar bill at it.

Then about three months later, the stripper moved into my brain. I had this simple little Haiku poem that wouldn't leave. I laughed at it, it stayed. I tried to forget it, it remembered. So, here it is. My first attempt at Haiku.

I call it . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "Band aid, please"

Warm sand, scent of salt

Wet towel, snap!

Red welt rising

Yes, I know somethings are better left unsaid. 

I just couldn't resist.

Ciao for Now, Y'all

May you live a long, long life

What have you to say?

All this time, all your worries, both gone

You walk out the doors and into the light

Now you can claim your innocence, from that dark night

You have had your moment of fame

You are innocent, so they claim

But what of the seventeen year old?

He did not testify, shout or cry

For the true innocent one, lies buried

Unlike you, his story untold

He remains silent and still

Unlike you, he forever will

The sea and all the rain

No amount of water will cleanse thee

The blood of that night shall remain

Your hands will always haunt you, eternally

May you live a long, long life

Hands that heal and a heart of gold

Hands that heal and a heart of gold

(Doc Robin Townsend, the Country Vet)

There are childhood stories, I often recall
With eyes closed, I hear mother tell them all
The tales of the kind doctor, who came to call
No matter the weather, he arrived
Delivered safely by buggy or sleigh
In days gone by, “The olden days”
The way of the Country Doctor 
A good, God fearing man
With hands that heal and a caring heart


I know of one, who lives with us still
More of a friend than a visitor, who comes to call
One who heals our dearest of friends of all
The ones who bark, slither and crawl
No matter the size, Doc tends to them all
And of the young’s endless questions?
He listens quietly, then answers them all
Speaking gently, he paints a picture, for them to recall
Knowing all too well, tomorrow they will jump the fence
For you see, he holds a Doctorate in Common Sense


From father to son, the traits are passed
Tis the Lord’s way, ensuring he is not the last
The man with patience, an honest soul
With hands that heal and a heart of gold


His Father healed the human scars
His Fathers son the human heart
He holds high his morals, o’er silver and gold
He chooses to do right, by all, young and old
He treasures his contented heart
For within his heart, he holds
His memories, God’s promised riches untold

His way is never easy, a rough and rock sewn path
He has always lived his life for others, 
Even though, not one ever asked
Of what God would have of me
I know not of his divine plan 
Except, I am jealous of this man
For, he is a fine example for others to see
The man, the person I should strive to be
All my years, all my travels
I have never found, one, nobler than he


I shall remember fondly all the stories told
In summers sweat and winters killing cold
Of Llamas, mules and the price of hay
For friends you see, are simply that way
I shall deny all those tales told of us two
And Doc will say, “Well, could be true”


When he comes to call, heal or console
Ask of all the stories he has been told
Say a prayer for the country Doc
Softly request, that God save his soul
For you shall find fewer than he
A good, God fearing man

Hands that heal and a heart of gold

Thank you Robert Frost

"I took the one less traveled by /
And that has made all the difference"
Robert Frost

The road not taken, published in 1916 by Robert Frost is a favorite of mine. I was rereading the verse one night and drifted away. At 2:27 AM I awoke with this poem in my head. I wrote it down and left it lay for months. I always try to take a different way home, from my Rose's house. And, yes that has made all the difference. 

Thank you Robert Frost.

The way home is always the same

The houses and farms pass in blurried colors without shape nor meaning

Matters not if the sun is awake, storming or clearing

The way home is always the same, once again

I side step each adventure with every foreign street I ignore

What I have missed, I can’t be sure

Something is beyond that turn, waiting for someone

I should take the time to see what is there

Who would know, whom would ever care

I know, I do care for something is waiting there

My something will have to wait, for my someone can not

Maybe tomorrow, I will grasp that turn and charge down that foreign street

Just to see what I have missed all these years

Where do all those streets go?

Where did all those years go?

These years, never caring, never knowing

The way home is always the same

For all of us who never stray, never take that chance

Never change

Never tumble the dice

The way home is always the same 

I love to Dance . . . . .

I love to Dance

At the edge of the forest, I hear a call

A beckoning, a call to only me

I enter reluctantly, cautiously

 Drawn into this sea of trees

Wandering deeper in this land of gloom

The trees grow so close, there is barely room for me

Standing silent, as sentinels guarding a tomb

The canopy, so complete, a soul can barely see

I trod deeper, but there, there ahead of me

A clearing of trees, an opening of the canopy

Where sun drenched grasses run free

Deep in this sea of trees

Among the grasses, an island of soil rises

Adorned with a simple cross of stone

A grave in the clearing in front of me

 I kneel in respect and look up to see

Who has been laid here?

Upon this island in a sea of trees

Etched with care and grace

The name of a familiar face

An old friend of mine, lies here

A companion from my youthful years

Alas, now he is silent and his cry I will no longer hear

For it is caution who has been laid to rest, here

Good, now I have a place to dance!

I never liked that old fool anyway

He never strayed nor ever took a chance

If he had not perished, my old restrained and foolish friend

I would have thrown him, body and soul, to the wind

I could never imagine nor ever believe

 I would have found him, resting on an island

An island, in a sea of trees

He never strayed nor ever took a chance

He never knew . . . . I love to dance

But, you knew that, didn't you?

“Somewhere over the rainbow . . . . . . . Why can’t I?”

Of all I know, there is little to boast of
Except of course,
My love of poetry and the poetry of love
Yet, the world beneath my feet, does treasures hold
Rainbows arched across our horizons bold
They are mystical, lovely and impossible to hold
They are but reflections of light, a prism to behold
For the young they are much more
Dreams to chase and stories to be told
Lest we forget, that wee pot of gold

My rainbow is complete, a circle grand
My horizon an encompassing oblique
My rainbow, she is bashful and shy
Keeps her smile below the horizon and above the sky
In my dreams I sail toward her
Wave after wave, day upon day
I never see her smile, nor do I
In sorrow, turn my sails 180 degrees
I shall sail around the world and view her anew
For to see her smile, required that I simply change my point of view

Thirty two miles east of Ocean City Maryland, surrounded by salt water in a veil of blue-green, I wondered why? Why can’t I see the end of the rainbow?

The ocean reveals her beauty once you abandon the distractions of the shoreline. As I watch the terra-firma drop below the horizon, it occurs to me. The line in the distance is actually a circle, the horizon has finally showed herself in a grand display of a 360 degree gilded sky blue frame. All my years, I thought the horizon was a finite line somewhere over the rainbow. I believed it to be small and nothing of interest to anyone. On the ocean though, you see her for all she is. An encompassing ring somewhere over the rainbow.

So why have I not known this fact all these years? Well, seems I just believed what everyone told me it was, a line in the distant, covered by the sky and limited to a frame of trees on both sides. An unreachable point that is in constant motion. But, that was before I opened my eyes and my mind to see her, all of her. At sea we are the center of the horizons embrace, always. She keeps us encircled, yet she never allows us to touch her.

Sometimes, I see people and ideas as what others have told me they were. I know better, now. Like the horizon upon the sea, one has to gaze with their eyes closed to see them for what they truly are.

By the way, a rainbow is a complete circle. The horizon keeps a portion of the beauty of each rainbow all to herself. But, you knew that, didn't you?

This darkness, born from Satan’s own shadow . . .

"I find myself in a state of uneasiness. There is a mist, a salty mist falling softly from the darkening clouds. I believe the sky is crying, but for whom does she cry? There is a shadow approaching from the west. I gaze in disbelief as a blanket of darkness unfurls upon the horizon of our world. Slowly but ever so surely, the darkness of sorrow is returning. As the moments pass slowly and ever so painfully, the darkness is enveloping our universe. Consuming our Eden, acre by acre. I shall have to face this darkness naked and alone.  Steadfast in my resolve to survive this fate, for this time the darkness is truly the one who will not be denied. As the leading edge of the shadow approaches, I can feel it calling to my soul. The darkness is beckoning me and I cannot refuse him, I must answer his call to my soul. I knew he would come, come for my world, my soul and yes, come for the soul of my Lovely Lady.

This time the Darkness will not be denied.

Oh what horrors lie in the memories of one’s own heart? When will these demons be satisfied with the sadness they have inflicted in the dark days before now? Why must he return again and again to menace my heart so unmercifully? Some memories will never be still, for they are never satisfied with their past haunting deeds and they possess the unyielding desire to torture one’s moral soul for an eternity. Leaving the days lived in the present a simple mirrored reflection of all those harrowing moments of days past. This darkness, born from Satan’s own shadow, is upon me and I am frozen in its approach, unable to flee. As this shadowy shroud covers my body, I brace myself for I know deep within my heart that it will pass, in time. The sun shall reclaim our world. But, the shadow will leave its unholy mark upon my very soul, this I know to be true. Just as the sun shall leave its warmth upon my heart. This darkness shall leave an eternal shadowy chill upon my moral soul, forever, Amen."

Sometimes, I can't find a reason to smile.

But, the darkness never lasts.

Like a dark little cloud that has strayed into my azure skies, I simply wait for it to pass on by. 

Then I get back to being the happy fool I was born to be.

Excerpt from That Darn Dragon

Yikes! I am in deep trouble, for sure.

Oh those Pale Azure eyes!

Every time I look into those pale azure eyes . . . . . I just melt! I am putty in her hands and yes, she knows it all too well. Then there is that chemical reaction thing. The semi-lethal dose of dopamine and  oxytocin produced by her mere presence. The effect is amplified by the alluring nature of her pale azure eyes. Yikes!

Yikes! I am in deep trouble, for sure.

Do you feel that way when you look into the eyes of the one who loves you for the most simplest of reasons in the world, they love you for you just being you? Do you feel the need to self admit yourself into a drug rehab program every time you look into their eyes? 

And just what is this chemical thing? Well, Dr. Helen Fisher explains it quite well “No wonder lovers talk all night or walk till dawn, write extravagant poetry and self-revealing e-mails, cross continents or oceans to hug for just a weekend, change jobs or lifestyles, even die for one another. Drenched in chemicals that bestow focus, stamina and vigor, and driven by the motivating engine of the brain, lovers succumb to a Herculean courting urge. "

Yes when you feel that "Chemistry", you really feel it. Our brains take over our conscious thoughts and we become primitive beings, once again. We focus, no make that we obsess on the person we desire. Dopamine is to blame, but just what is dopamine? Dr. Fisher tells us that "Our reward system, like the one that activates when you're eating chocolate, plays a role during this phase of love. She supports the hypothesis that like chocolate, being head over heels in love is addictive. Of course, dopamine is what gets released when you take a hit of cocaine, too—so it's not surprising that other research suggests that for the brain a bad breakup is like kicking a drug habit" 

I knew there was something about chocolate and its relationship to that loving feeling!

What about oxytocin? Dr. Fisher tells us all about it . . . . Oxytocin, when released in your brain during certain types of human contact, it has the effect of bonding you to the other person involved. This makes a lot of sense, because oxytocin is known to be released when a woman is nursing her infant, when two people are hugging, and during sexual activity. It's also thought to be involved in other corollary emotional responses of bonding, like trust-building and empathy.

So, Love is a double hit! One drug to force you to focus on the person and another to reward you for hugging them! Whoa! You get your chocolate and a reward for just being in love?


But, those eyes . . . . Well, there has to be a physical attraction first, kind of like an invitation to party. So . . . . . Pass the chocolate and let's party!

What the mind's eye can envision

What the mind's eye can envision, no photo could ever capture.

Angels, innocence and the hues found only in emotions of wonderment. These are the elements of imagination found in the mind of every dreamer who awoke to the flame driven desire to create what has never been seen. These dreamers grant us a glimpse into their minds and allow us to share what could be, what is and what should never be.

I often think of the days when I bought my first computer. By today's standards it would be laughed at and thought to be a bad joke, a toy or just plain silly. At the time it was cutting edge, in it's time. Today I smile every time I hear someone talk about how fast computers are today. Ipads, Iphones and the like are truly amazing, here in their time. The home computer is still much like the ones in the early eighties. A microprocessor, memory and a operating code consisting of ones and zeros.

Funny, how we all think today's technology is so great.

The human mind functions through the transfer of light at intervals and intensity, through billions of synapses or gateways. The technology of the mind is millions of years old. Our brains haven't changed much at all from when we lived in caves and had no language. Yet, we have evolved from the way we process the input from our senses and how we react to that information. Your brain is the supercomputer of today. What of tomorrow, my friend? Will we still be using zeros and ones to process our data in our laptops?

I will make a bet with you. One day in the not so distant future, computer science will mimic the human mind. The speeds we will process data at don't even have a name, yet. The way we look problems don't even have a point of view, yet. The way we think about our senses haven't even been imagined. yet. Yes, we will look back at today's wonders and simple laugh. We will wonder how we ever got through the day without the wonders of tomorrow. Close your eyes and look to tomorrow, what you see in your mind's eye shall come to be.

And that cool gadget called "Google glass", the computer built into sunglasses . . . . . a toy that a three year old will learn their chosen second or third language with, in it's time.

What we see today is only a glimpse of what we will live tomorrow. What you see in your mind is the key to your future. Where you go today is a just a side trip on the gateway to your future. What you think today is what you will live tomorrow. 

Like a painter, we should dream of what could be, what should be and what we will be.