The Touch of winter
A Crystal water caress of snow
The sunny silence of a cold winter day shines in a new coat
Icy wind crystallizes dreams of warmth
A dusting that covers the ice surface
A country skating rink marks a spot where the shore kisses a hill
Near a lake inlet which drains from frosted wetland
A wondrous place in natural flux of seasonal changes
A sacred place where giant granite boulders hold sway against manmade hand and the storms of nature
Mark the passing of glaciers past
The tick of a wall clocks seconds break the silence
The only reminder that this perfect land at waters’ edge has been touched by human
Dreams of ownership
Nothing but a single frozen vaporous breath or a seconds tick
In this lands grand timelessness
Yet winters icy grip cannot stop a heartfelt spirit or dissipate
The crystal dream of touching the infinite
Category Archives: poem
Frigid Footprints Etched in Time
Frigid Footprints Etched in Time
Time to reflect find meaning
Ready and gather strength for future seasons
Time to live in a present moment built on the past
To find bliss each day in just being
In feeling hoping loving
In gently holding to patience and faith
Touching natures surround unbound
Time is infinite change in an expanding universe
Like the lake surface blanketed in snow from transient storm
Change in flakes and crystals of water mixing moving gathering
Little twisters of white move in gusty gestations
Infinite equations of changing destination and motion
Eyes watery and face worn with lines of season old and the days cold
Manmade mirror of glass in shore side ice rink
Altered the blanket by pulling it back for gliding space
Tuck in the edges to border and shape
Sore eyes gaze in wonder from weathered countenance
Great spirit of nature and all uses a whisk brush of gust
A vehicle of wind and a wispy medium of snow
To draw-paint a picture in the tenor of the season and flux of time
Transposing a lake shore rink into an ever changing etch a sketch image of life
Shaken by wintry blast infinite design is cast
Late Fall Boat Ride
Boat Ride on a Sunny Windy Sunday
Fall is changing
Winds have pushed and pulled against it
Side currents and cutting winds buffit
as I cut the engine
Drift to the wind’s whine and whim
Beware the shore and hidden rock
Trust experience
Focused keen observation
a close call but a shift in the wind
moves us to safety
Two paddlers in a canoe
battle and shift then give in and drift to natural intent
Gusts and gestations of the nature of October late
Drifting past to future and season to season
Leaves have changed in color
Fallen in flashy death
Float move and shift as we do from where they land on the water
To become little ships and armadas at the mercy of the months manifestations
Bursts of beautiful in the last trees to change
The brilliant reds orange and yellow
have given over to the ambers and browns
Once again we drift too close to danger
turn over the engine shift and throttle up
Set a new course in adjustment to wind and the chops of lake surface
The boats ripples are lost in wave translation
Mark a course each day
with patience and without fear in mindful meditation of the present
Warrior ready we tie to the dock
and await whatever the seasons next present
Poem–A Search for Healing in So Much Sorrow: Writing 201:Poetry: Future
A Search for Healing in So Much Sorrow
The light both rises and falls on hopes horizon
So much sorrow and too little truth,
Need with so much greed
Sometimes I mourn for these sad days. These troubled times and the human race
My Big Dawg ‘Bruce Springsteen’ playing on the radio
Singing about ‘Devils and Dust.’
I write of broken hearted rust
In a search for healing I
Find revival in songwriters’ words we are
‘Born to Run’ from ‘Devils and Dust’
Find spark from song and the
Common ground of the common man
With a ‘Boss’ who lives truth from ‘E Street’
To Main Street
In stories of real people, the
Heart of a country
So far removed from mindless spin of zombies
The right that is wrong
Sometimes you must mourn for the people of this world
All alone together
‘Devils and Dust’ filling our souls
Tough to breath and to know your roles
Dream our dreams and fulfill our goals
Come together, communicate and connect
A day at a time one step forward, two back
Dreams held and drifting we must
Resist, believe and persist in clouds and blue sky and in Shadows and light
Souls in danger with spiritual cost
Lives at risk with spirit lost
Strive to maintain faith and learn to love as we touch each day
The Shadow of our dreams, those we love and those whose love has touched us
Sadness of our own and those we wish to reach
We give our all each day alive but alone
To go down in dreams each night
Awake looking for the morning light
Cherished grace of charity and compassion
Quiet in our desperation
Energy spent with little residual
Sore wounded scorched spirit
Soul searching
Heavy load train of thought and emotion
Going too fast to just stay on track
We move up the next hill just to see hopes horizon
Hold on
How much sorrow can we bear?
Before doing determined best
Yielding we just put it down
Where the light both rises and falls
“God bless us and save us”
Grandfather said through Two World Wars
And through a grandson
“Great Spirit of all bless us and save us” from the greed and hypocrisy
So much sorrow
Help us to resist, believe and persist
Strive to maintain faith and search for healing
Learn to love as we live
Cherish grace of compassion and charity
Come together, Communicate and connect
Find the courage to believe in yourself and in others
On common ground
Where irreconcilable differences
Diminish, disperse and disappear
On hopes horizon
The place where the light both rises and falls
{Attribute: spark to years of listening to the music of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street band and the rest to the genes inherited from the ancestors}
Hard Wood Writing–Poem
Hard Wood Writing
Feeling lucid under pressure
Moments of sheer horror and panic do pass
Drawn on ousted emotions to draw-paint words to paper
Form scenes opened felt by me
Acts of art for others to observe-see
A word play called ‘New Hope Spring’
On a clean cool clear and cloudy canvass of Papyrus
Framed pages with words
Book cover borders
Times Temperaments Torments Trusts
Loss and Rebirth
Felt and Palpable on written page
Hopes spring grows and flows
Words in mahogany and oak
A writer’s true rings of hard growth memory
True to a vision of what has come to pass
Hard Wood Writing on soft textured page of one person’s past
Written Word Etched for Eternity by Scribed Survivor
Mahogany Voice Rises from Oaken Experience
From scribbler to Scribe the Survivor Crafts
The soft subtle textured pages of a life’s
Lessons Learned and Shared
Now and Then
The Exothermic Energy of Seasons
The Exothermic Energy of Seasons
Sunshine start to another day
Evening last lit with burning branches, glowing embers, music and moonlight
A fire of our own
Embrace the light of soul spirit rising
Glow meets rays expanding
Convergence of energy in the present, the gift
Synergy promises potential for another day
Warmth of nature and love intertwined
Wisteria vines enhanced in a mix of Spring and Summers
Soul spirit rising
Excursion into Time
Excursion into Time
Glowing island to mountain meditation
In transition to feeling strong
Believing in self
Years and tears pass
Swept up in swirling storms of change
Swimming in waves of possibility
the way in which we live our lives
Is what will last
Reach out for balance and confidence
Knowledge to rise above turmoil
In calm contemplation
With tools of pen and patience
True communication
Connection
Diplomacy
Respect for all
The way
Strong hands and open arms
Spirit heart gathers strength
In years overcoming fears
Potential energy flowing to kenetic
Uniting the divides
String theory of life
We must vibrate good
Shimmering shining glowing radiating
Together resplendent in the light
We live our lives
Only Those Hands-A tribute for Mothers day
Only those hands
Only those hands fed eleven, made a million meals, and kept a home clean and organized
Only those hands washed, dried, folded, and sorted the clothes
Only those hands signaled firmly when we were out of line
Only those hands wiped away tears, hurts, and fears
With strength, without weakening or whisper of complaint
Only those hands encouraged and held our dreams
Now those shaking hands turn the pages of the novels that keep a mind sharp
Mother, Mama, Mom, Ma, Betty Boop
Lived in the moment and made them all count. Early on she learned to be strong for her brothers, sisters and mom because her dad was away at war
Each moment connected in a life of constructive acts of selflessness
Each of us shaped by her focus
She remains the heart and foundation of a family
Only those hands are shaking now as she turns the pages of the books where she travels in focused tuning of an aging mind and answers the phone to listen to how our dreams unfold
Memorial to Donald Murray with Poems: His Time Was Write and Hard Wood Writing
Never a Day Without a Line
When a mentor passes on–A Memorial to Donald Murray
I heard it on the 11 o’clock New Years Day news. Donald Murray died of a heart attack at the age of 82. He had submitted his column ‘Now and Then’ to the Boston Globe the day before he died. He never stopped working, learning or sharing the knowledge he had gained.
My connection to Donald started from a Now and Then column that he had written in late winter which mentioned a spring writing class and one of his favorite bookstores on Water Street in Exeter NH. A heartfelt feeling took me there and I bought the book he suggested and left my information. Fortune smiled and on a Monday nights for six weeks I found myself at Don’s house in Durham with a circle of writers and novices of the craft. Don in his chair teaching by drawing us in and sharing his life and the work he loves. A large man in both stature and heart held court as we listened and learned in a circle where he made us feel equal. No pretense, just the spirit of a man open and true. His words ring true in my head: ‘Find your voice and tune it to the situation’
‘Writing is personal-be as true as possible’
‘The voice must sound like you, if not something is wrong-you may not be close enough to the material’
‘I still sometimes look at the world as a soldier’
‘Write with velocity and lower your standards’
‘Good writers see deep important things about the human condition. They articulate the human condition for those who can not’
‘Surprise is wonderful, I want to surprise myself some more before the road ends’
I met with him three times after the class ended. Twice for breakfast at ‘Young’s’ in Durham where everyone knows his name. The morning after class ended I picked him up at 5:45 AM. He told me he had stayed up all night as enthusiasm about the class, father’s day trip weekend prior, writing, and using his new art supplies would not let him sleep. He insisted on paying for breakfast and said that my turn was next. As I dropped him off at his house and told him to get some rest he answered, ‘after I write a little’. 82 years old, up all night and his motto, ‘nulla dies sine linea’ and work ethic still ruled.
For me he is gone too soon, too fast but he will always be with me. It’s his turn again to buy breakfast and he promised to come for dinner and meet my ‘Maria May.’
He believed in his family, his students, his friends and his colleagues. He gave us a confidence devoid of judgments that we could find our voice and tune it to the situation.
I offer a poem written with Donald in mind and submitted during what would be his last class. He had taken up drawing and painting recently for the sheer joy and surprise of it. The last line was added today.
Hard Wood Writing
Feeling lucid under pressure
Moments of sheer horror and panic do pass
Drawn on ousted emotions to draw-paint words to paper
Form scenes opened felt by me
Acts of art for others to observe-see
A word play called ‘New Hope Spring’
On a clean cool clear and cloudy canvass of Papyrus
Framed pages with words
Book cover borders
Times Temperaments Torments Trusts
Loss and Rebirth
Felt and Palpable on written page
Hopes spring grows and flows
Words in mahogany and oak
A writer’s true rings of hard growth memory
True to a vision of what has come to pass
Hard Wood Writing on soft textured page of one person’s past
Written Word Etched for Eternity by Scribed Survivor
Mahogany Voice Rises from Oaken Experience
From scribbler to Scribe the Survivor Crafts
The soft subtle textured pages of a life’s
Lessons Learned and Shared
Now and Then
His time was write
Found a mentor, ol’ sage, life almost spent
He opened his home, gave a last class
Unconditionally he let us in and shared a successful career
“Write Short, Write Quick,” the mentor said.
The world has changed–attention spans are short sighted
Draw them in, hold them, set them free, with words from the heart
An old man’s spirit shared
His time was write
Now and Then taught me ours is then and now
The road goes on and I will be one of Donald’s Acolytes–Apostles
Nulla dies sine linea–never a day without a line
Share a life til the road ends
To be taken up by a spirit who’s time is write
Copyright by Ken Pothier
Moonlit Fire In Spring
Moonlit Fire Spring
Fire and moonlight driven thoughts
Evergreen firs and budding deciduous
The trees are a family, birds their children
Nests held gently, securely
Protected by branch, needle and expanding leaves
A high home with expansive view
Welcome to spring warmth
Arriving light, a fire to meet the waxing moon
Waning glow of a fine early spring day
Blue eyes a picture window to cloudless sky
Walk the dock, a man’s shadow shows in ripples outward
Expanding across the lake touch the moon in reflection
Quiet calm, night peepers sing their song to water mirror
New life growing in glow of warmer days
Birds, bugs, turtles, fish, loon, beaver, musk rat, great blue heron, duck, duck, goose
Return from cold season exile and hibernations
Frame spring and merge in living creation
Changing in daily miracles as each circle comes around in warmth
Robins expecting, chirp and frolic, work the nest building
In chipmunk fall food supply intensity
No eggs yet but driven by hopes and promise of new birth
Spring dressings, building to please
Soon baby bird breaks shell as seedling breaks ground
Man cracks open the door
Leaves kitchen table picture window
Blue eyes see