Parenthood

January 5, 2018

I think
On some level
We all wonder
Who our parents were
Before we were there.
As people, as humans,
What were they really
Like before waking up
To midnight cries and
Childhood desires?

If things had been
Different
Who would they have
Grown to love?
Possibilities branch off
Into a million places
But the person remains
The same choices,
The same decisions made.
Which begs the question:
Would I be the same?

We are told that
Life is cyclical,
Orbiting ourselves in
Concentric circles as
We slowly become
Mirages of them.
If they are still here,
I suppose, then so am I.

MSBQ

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A lot of big things happened last year. Not nearly all of them bad, but not all of them good either.

One of the relatively small changes was my official end of my New Year’s resolutions posts. I sat there, on New Year’s Eve, wondering what kind of things I wanted to accomplish and looking back at how 2017 had been. And, for the life of me, I could not see clearly the way to move forward. This tradition started for me about a decade ago, back in the days of Myspace (yes, that’s how old this is) and I just wanted to take a break from the poetry and reflect. What it became was a vain attempt at proving that I’m still “doing things” and moving forward in life.

I don’t think I have the capacity to do that anymore.

This doesn’t mean that I won’t be continuing to write poetry (I’m about to post a new poem after I finish this post, as a matter of fact) nor that I don’t think I should take time to reflect. But if I am honest with myself, these resolutions aren’t doing their job.

I haven’t spent time returning to these posts to think about it, or make plans to accomplish even one of the goals I had set for myself. Even coming back to them the following New Year’s Eve, I felt like I would just be making excuses, not actually doing something. It was too vague, and I meant it to be so. Thus, I’m going to stop.

In a way, this is entirely refreshing. I’m in my thirties now, I have to wisely spend the spiritual currency life has dispensed to me. So I sit here, looking back at the dumpster fire that was the year 2017, and I think “Well, it can’t very much get a whole lot worse.” And then I quickly knock on wood somewhere.

Stay tuned for more poetry, and thanks to those of you who have been here all along. Onwards and upwards, friends.

MSBQ

Americana

October 28, 2017

For a nation born in
Protest and fire, we
Tend to ignore all of
The impossible beauty
Of our promised land.

The muted reds
Of canyons wide,
Or the melodies of
A fiddle at sunset.
The silence of the
Extinct wild buffalo,
Or the shifting lanes
Of corn farmer’s gold.
Our country stands
Atop whiskey barrels
And picket fences.

Not all memories are
Pleasant ones, though
Still they have value.
Our past is mired in the
Coppery tang of blood
Spilled without cause,
Of gunpowder clouds
And the quiet wail of
Lost sons and daughters.

Our liberty is man-made,
The true wealth here
Lies in the soil and the
Spirits who have long
Since fallen away.

MSBQ

Nature’s Fury

October 4, 2017

Our planet sways,
Twirling madly around
The glowing orb of light
We have called the sun;
And here we call home.

Water and air and soil
Compromise in space to
Allow us purchase here,
And we do so very little
To thank Mother Nature.

Despite many hazards,
We leave forests empty
And seas spoiled abroad.
We ignore the warnings
Hiding in tree rings and
Long forgotten stones.

Buried like seeds, they
Rest not in peace but in
Wait for the right time
And the right season.

Only then will they rise.
Sprouts among giants but
Strong as an alder bough,
Ready to form in tandem
The eaves of this church
We now worship within.

MSBQ

A Momentary Pause

September 15, 2017

Each of us in passing
Ignore so many urgent
Sensations, too busy to
Realize how much we
Actually feel each day.

If you stop, just now,
You might hear your
Heartbeat in your ears.
Wind slowly pulsing in
And out of your chest.
Skin crinkling by your
Eyes, eyelids fluttering.
Muscles twitch in the
Strange stillness you
Have brought to them.

It bears repeating,
I believe, to simply
Remain quiet and
Listen to yourself
Experiencing life.

MSBQ

Wildfire’s Lament

September 7, 2017

Waking up in a dream,
Each passing moment is
Adrift in a thickened haze
Of smoke from fires we’ll
Never be able to smother.

For weeks, I’d wander out
Into the swirling ether and
Strain my eyes to see past
The veil placed upon us all,
But it’s far too unwieldy.

I know nature has its way;
The fires may engulf us, but
In the end it kindles a birth
Of all things green, even in
The throes of summertime.

When the October mist
Finally arrives, we shall
Welcome its coming
As never before- like
Parched plains in June.

MSBQ 

The Drought

August 10, 2017

It’s been fifty days since
High clouds congregated to
Bless us with new rainfall,
Gone are the days where we
Used to sit and listen to drips
Coming down off the gutter.

The time of year is right for
Sun-scorched grass and the
Peculiar smell of pavement
Sizzling in the sun’s glare,
Heat waves distorting any
Semblance of comfort.

Droughts never last forever.
Eventually, we shall see
The grey clouds accumulate
And release our tensions in
The form of warm sheets
Of summertime rain.

MSBQ