Searching for a good honest woman

A FUN ONE
You are my joyous entertainer
Not just a cartoon character though just as animated
You are the all-time best variety show, an Emmy winner for sure
You dance, you sing, you mimic
And always you bring laughter
You are the talk show host and the sidekick
You are the invited guests; the singer, the dancer, the song and dance master.
You are the crazy and novel talent act
The storyteller and listener
Advisor and commenter
The clown, the standup comic and court jester
You are the Queen of gesture and animated face and body language
You are quick witted and on the spot of any real moment,focused and truthfully present
You are an original
As you provide joy and truest laughter to my life
And you are perfect just the way you are

Someday Cafe

Blank Canvas of paper

Frosty early December Day

Sun is out

Shines light without warmth

Like emotion without thought

Jazzy tune on the sound system

Female vocalist Marisa Monte

Emoting warmth and joy

Song and coffee

Wake and Warm

A Weary soul with Wounded Spirit

Davis Square busies with Everyday People

On missions and quests of their own

Bundled against cold, eyes blinded by morning light

Lost in thought without emotion

Caps, Lids, Hats, Covers, Hoods, Scarf

A Bad Hair Day for all

In the eyes of a follacly challenged man

They are fortunate to have a hair day at all

Any Port in a storm, Hat in cold weather

All is relative in the missions of people everyday

Warmth on this side of the window glass

Looking glass on the world

Seen behind Blue Eyes

That have already viewed

A lifetime never imagined

We dream of how it would be

Take Paths from the Crossroads of Time

People passing the looking glass

May never cross paths again

Tufts University Student 22 will never see 23, never be fabulous again

Yesterday was his last

A fifth year Liberal Arts Student, heading for educated unemployment

Would welcome: a cold sun, light of day, emotion

With or without thought

Warmth, coffee, joy, song.

Blank canvas of paper

A Frosty December Day

Sun is out

Siren sounds piercing the cold

No one looks up

The Rescue crosses their path

But does not stop at their door today… sanctuary found

they raise their cups

Safe at the Someday Cafe

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

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DSCN1410Oct Nov 2012 330Boat 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

Daily Prompt: Back to School , A post to the SNHU school newspaper

In 2008 I returned to University and majored in English Language and Creative Writing. I joined the school newspaper (the old elephant in the room.) This is one of my posts published in the newspaper.

Pothier_Creative_Story-telling Dream Free write

Ken Pothier_11/26/2009

A Story-telling Dream

I had a storytelling dream. In it I was camping on mother earth with father sky above me. Alone, but for the spirit of the ancestors surrounding me North, South, East, West, Above and Below. Felt in the knowledge and magic of medicine animals. I wanted to write, but there wasn’t a way. I was consumed with the need to get my feelings and observations recorded, to tell a story.
I then proceeded to observe, read, feel all of the great spirit in nature around me. Dusk came over the dream and I could not record what was felt in the subtle and palpable lessons of the land. I spent last light organizing the campsite getting ready for the night.

Alone, but for want of a way to write,
But for want of a fire to light,
But for want of a means to share,
It could have been a good dream.

I awoke with longing and frustration in my being. In a life tinged with sorrow I could not shake the feeling of the dream.
If I could not write:
I could live with it, carry it, carry on, and not put the heavy load of feeling down.
I could make a blanket of my tears for they roll down and carry salt of the earth.
I could leave signs, in the bank of streams and water’s edge of lake and ocean, where waves of wind, water, and time could wear them away.
I could etch my life sketch in stone, but there is too much to say, and words alone would consume the day.
I could read signs of nature and learn to live in wilderness on my own.
I could watch the seasons pass never knowing when it’s my last.
Could I not write?
Feelings, emotion, experience, knowledge, and lessons learned, would stay lost in time.
Though experienced and felt, never seen, not thought out, and only mine.
Dark and lost in shadow, never letting in the light of memory and time perspective,
Never leaving a clue to how I found my way as pathfinder.

Out on the lake appeared a lone snowmobiler, having a day with some time and a fresh coat of snow to play on. He circled the lake in an outline of the shore. Curved in at coves around the circumference and out where the land reaches to meet the snow covered ice.
A sixty acre oval repeated counterclockwise over and over and over, until it began to look like the concentric rings in the wood of a tree.
Carefully the task was completed, parallel journeys in time, close but never the same, he marked his time on the lake while I fashioned a dreamed story.

One man found a good rhythm in space and time, and beat out a path for all to see, until waves of wind, warmth, water, and time slowly take it all away.
Could I not write…? The day would be held only in memories, of the one who felt it, of the one who observed, and gone forever as they fade away.

Could I be a storyteller…?
Last light of sun’s rays break the clouds, and spotlight one man’s circles of time in motion…
As a work of art, in a rhyme of time, space, light, and words.

Dreams and signs can show the way…
See them, feel them, and own them-live as a warrior, storyteller, and pathfinder.
Tell the tales…etched in time…Hanta Yo…Go Forward…

© Ken Pothier

### 593 words

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