Journal : OpenRoadWorks

Valentine's Day - it's time for flowers , chocolates , and, yes, poetry.

Once there was a rose, Grown from farmland, Pennsylvania.

Church bells ring, Choir sings, Pastor bellows While church fellows Fall fast asleep. On Christmas Eve All hope to leave Quiet as mice With open eyes That hang as low As lights will go On "Silent Night". Let's hope for carols, Let's hope for candles, Awaiting Santa When fun last comes. Until final hymn, Struggling within - Let's rise like angels Above slumber's keep.

A new year approaches, another year gone Some battles lost, some victories won, If better angels prevail, as some have said You'll be happy you had the chances you did To laugh, to love, to dream, to smile For family and friends and causes worthwhile. If these words have great fortune to greet The journeys we hope can bring us to meet Together in 2010, then with joy I say, Happy Hanukkah, Chrismas, and New Year's Day!

Over a year of marriage carries Happiness, love, and sometimes cranberries But eventually the pace slows down, Work intrudes, some days a frown And suddenly the world has changed. What we must do is simply rearrange The days so that other things fit neatly In their own places, and move on sweetly To the beauties of the everyday together. Because there is love everywhere, wherever You shall be - and perhaps also Rosie - This is a good thing naturally, So good to state it thus and remember That only frigid mornings in November Can keep us apart, but only so long As the work day lasts because so strong Is our pact that I worry not a wink - Your loveliness is worth so much, I think.

What words are used to describe the thoughts that no longer come, Ideas of a prior life that once was brimming with angst and some Ideals chased for the sake of love and beauty. Now the same things trend towards duty Of commitment and relationship, career, Tending home, animals, finances, debts in arrears, Promises replaced by practicalities, Hopes supplanted by fears, Balance subtracted by the same things that gave life instead. What I ponder and somehow dread, That memories chase me like ghosts, Same fears that act as hosts For what captures hopes and turns the scene About what life can mean When “settling down” means more than settling And “taking stock” means more than stock taking. Here it goes, as will suffice, A soundtrack earned at great price Of melody swift through dreams Risen like phoenix from youth, seems So far away to the extent reachable, Today unthinkable, Tomorrow even further from the march Of time immemorial, away from harsh Frame of what inspired these words anyw...

Happy New Year! (a poem to Wendy) As January ends, outside is windy I'm leaving the office, and blog is empty For this year's entries, this is the first - Of all the droughts, this might be worst Of sparse words and spells of creativity. Much as there is to praise, I can't complain Of the life that now occupies my brain In these winter days - and nights often too - When work, life, and love make strange brew. Happy birthday to my dad, Lest I forget this as well As I pack my things at hand And reflect for trifle spell. Enough of this, I shall resolve To write more for hopes absolve The state I'm in - all work and no play - Dull boy I become is what some say. A few thoughts, these, I make as mark As a solemn pause to act as lark, For this entry portends what must come - Poetry and story should be in great sum!

It only takes a minute To pen a heartfelt line But what becomes the limit Is what becomes of time. Overcome with activity, Dreary task lists full, Soon becomes proclivity Towards immediate pull Of urgent demands That consume the sands Of time. Prophesy often becomes A self-fulfilling bit, That what is overcome Is not what plans had knit. Ah yes, those best-laid plans Are lost in workaday, To be forgotten what only can Make boldened efforts pay. Just spend a moment to capture Some thankful words complete In card that might bring rapture For those who are so sweet. Remember simply the time they take To offer what warm feelings make.

If ever there is something new, I find it sometimes in my shoe When I attempt to leave the house As quiet as a mouse. For all intentions best to hold Thoughts of grandeur, vision bold Are held up by the drowsy drain Of daily driving strain. In the traffic, can it be Such dreams of some reality That find attention somewhere far Away, now drowned by idling car? Here I sit with simple goal To scale the heights which often hold Pressing thoughts which force the sink Of vital time that makes dreams shrink. So here it goes, the days speed on, Past blurry daytime con Of man - yes, I follow thus Into the fold, awaiting such fuss - The cubicle of broken dreams. Lost somewhere off computer screen, Somewhere deep into routine, Thoughts that cross my mind at morn When shoes go on, slippers shorn, The time when vision still takes hold To beg attention beyond the cold Of morning air and waiting commute.

Here I go In light speed Just like taxicabs Blur in yellow Down Broadway Towards the only way We can go Downtown Uptown Midtown we are Quickly I stop For love in a pinch Here I go again Hello New York Afternoon delight With my hunny bunny :)

Softly steal the night Of dreams beyond sight, Days brighter still to be As yet to live so fully. Here they stay, soon to go, Passing branches, river's flow To carry days away instead, Lying silent in my bed. Moonlit memory, wading barge, Sheets and pillows act as charge For reflection, silence, stare. Contrast image clothes the chair Marking room's corner, end Of vista, corner's bend Toward window's glare of park Lights peeking in as lark To sing such cresting limerick. Dreams soon drown the prick Of life's ambitions, dull Hasten morning's full Interpretation of room's last bastion. Life and passion unfasten Hopes and fears so plain - Night's domain leaves much to gain. Await anew the next found day For all the dreams to dance and play. But first they come, in all their might To softly steal the night.

Comfort cannot find me now Across different states that have no boundary To the spirit of a country which prowls Commercial life and constant industry. Prosperity cannot chase the feeling Ebullient that work is proper, free, Normal, strangely healing, Human ambition to be Bought and sold with coins and bills, Other barter, steel, cars, and pills, Stocks and flows, bonds and escrows - All to bring comfort near, Scant that I may have found here. Cattle ranch and open prairie roam, This state of wander is not home To the spirit of other fates, Perhaps other ancestors of days past, Toting belongings in boxes and crates Across seas, yearning gold pavement, fast Approach another world full of all things - Prosperity, hope, opportunity Of a life open again to bring These things respectfully. All grand things except comfort, Elusive to the travelers who still dream - I find myself searching still, support Feelings of home where I go, where it may seem Comfort can...

I don't like to work so late, It's something that I kind of hate In the office half past eight - I hope to Petey it's not my fate That every night I'll have to sate My other Desires with this crate Of crap, working - perhaps debate With others drivel of this...oh, i'll berate The ones who piled this on my plate!