LostNights Scribblings

Blogging Friends

2010-07-18T21:57:00.006-07:00

Some of my blog friends here know that I'm also a photographer besides a writer as some of my creative interest. So I really want to take this time to invite you to check out my photog blog "The Looking Glass Image" here's a link http://lookingglassrealms.blogspot.com/ I hope you enjoy it there as well, maybe become a subscriber to get the latest happenings. Well, that's it for now so go check it out and feel free to leave any comments...

Dahlia (A Spanish Waltz)

2010-06-02T14:32:00.011-07:00

I know I hadn’t felt much like writing of late, been dealing with some bummed out feelings for a while, the type one brings on to oneself. I won’t discuss my triggers, they may be some of the same ones as yours anyway. Knowing that most who read my blogs are of a human kind and my friends here are kind humans you can probably relate.

Depression I guess is something that most of us face from time to time. Some deal with a little differently than others, when I reach a point I write. I do write in those other times of emotions too. Just when we feel more vulnerable they seem ride on our sleeves as we hold them close. With that said, I thought I would write lyrics to a Spanish waltz. As you can tell I wrote in spanish first then in english.

Please leave a comment if you wouldn’t mind, I’d had lost most of my followers here, to me is crushing enough…

Dalia (Un Vals Español)

Radiante amor
Luz de la luna de su resplandor
para el calentamiento del sol de la
mañana

Hermosa Dalia

Con gracia en una sala de bailes
Despacio
Sonrisas en los corazones
Para todo lo que toca
Todo el mundo se desvaneció

Mi hermosa dalia

Se está convirtiendo en
Un recuerdo fugaz
Para ella se ha ido

Oh Dalia

Nunca olvidaré sus dones
Una vida tan caliente

Hermosa, pero perdió
Todo lo que queda
Son estas lágrimas por

Mi hermosa
Dalia

Dahlia (A Spanish Waltz)

Radiant love
Moonlight of her glow
Morning sun so warming

Beautiful dahlia

Gracefully dances into a room
Slowly
Smiles on the hearts
To all she touched
Everyone swooned

My beautiful dahlia

Are now becoming
A fleeting memory
For she is gone

Oh dahlia

I will never forget her gifts
A life so warm

Beautiful but lost
All there is left
Are these tears for

My beautiful
Dahlia

Back On the Road

2010-02-16T23:03:00.005-08:00

Sun is coming up just
East of Kennewick
I’m getting tired
The same old song
Of the tires on the road

Another mile down
So many more to go
Can’t think much of anything
But getting closer to you
Hope to make Billings

Then one more day
This trip will be through
It was good hear your voice
When we talked
Waiting in line to use the phone

Back out on it
Nothing on the radio
Leaving me thinking
How much I really
Don’t like being away from home

When the night falls
Tuck away in this big rig
It’s tough to get to sleep
Finally letting go of the wheel
The mind wrestles with it all

Knowing by time you get there
You will have grabbed another load
Saying your sorries giving her the kiss
Missing the wide open country

Heading back out there on the road…

Lost Dreams

2010-02-04T17:29:00.018-08:00

I thought I knew the pain
How it was going to be
Only I’d stayed
The broken road

Somewhere lost
What was so dear
Like secretes that fell
To hollow spaces
Beneath the stones

A leaf at play in a stream
Flows the distance
Chasing hopes so clear
loosing to the waves

Holding close the time
I have left to dream
Keeping them dry
From the rain...

Thoughts and Memories of You

2009-12-01T09:00:00.003-08:00

A November chill is biting at the ends of my ears
As I pull up the collar
Golden memories falling from the trees
Slowly dissipate with the wind

All the thoughts that built up to the day
Becoming harder to keep them straight
Ones hope to never loose
Are of those being with you

Hiding my dry cold hands
In the snugged lined pockets
Of the coat given in the better of times
There’s a key I just can’t let go

Dragging my feet to a path
Knowing too that will come a time
When the leaves thick and deep
Will had faded and gone.

Another Frantic Photographic Day

2009-11-21T17:38:00.012-08:00

Down the lonely highways
Searching for an un-traveled road
As images scroll by
Trespassing signs fogging up your mind

You keep pressing on
For a shot that will make the day
Just one more curve
Around another hill

One last stop to get what you can
Fingers itch for another click
So many blurring the memory
Now the battery is running low

By the time you get back
Thoughts start to seep in
Thinking about what was exposed
Those settings, so many ISO’s

Before you reach a place to check
You think of all the time you spent
Feeling yourself turning gray
As you walk in door

Pulling cards, finding a reader
Looking for what you did
As the blood leaves you head
Huddle in a corner

Laptop fully opened
The lights dimmed
Sorting through the captures
Like an excited kid

Struggling to figure out
A ribbon on a larger gift
Then surprised by
What you got

And some
Were never planed
Spouting old clichés
Looking forward to another day

Pretending to be a photographer
With the camera securely in your hand
Framing everything you see
Along the way...

In A Happy Place

2009-10-21T21:53:00.009-07:00

Another night in
A state of bliss
What a ride

Nothing is going to bother me
It’s like winning a lottery

Only if I could hang on this feeling
All of my days

I have a neighbor
Who wont listen to his kids
But gets his advice
From a pet who won’t go outside

I’d been feeling this good
Not feeling any ills
Don’t know where it came

If you ask how I got here
I couldn’t tell you with a straight face

I don’t care
Just as long as it never goes away

There’s a friend at work
Who left his home and a ugly woman
Now he’s happier
But hooked up with even an uglier one, still

The world might be falling apart
Nothing is going to cause it to shake

Things may not come my way
Everything is all right
I know I’m in a happy place…

Portabella Dreams

2009-10-19T21:00:00.011-07:00

Sometimes I just can’t believe some of the dorky stuff I come up with and write. I was thinking of nursery rhymes and children’s stories I’d loved as a child. Then this fell on my keyboard…

Portabella Dreams

Sunrays sprays through the shutters
Sleep rubbing from my eyes
Bluebird sings the morning
Fawns tasting their first dew

Gathering fragrant herbs
Under the crisp blue skies
Welcoming a new day's greeting
From a lower mossy limb

Flowered sweeten air
Linen drape wicker basket
I’d sat by my side
Fast falling into a portabella dream

Reaching a world where dreams go
Time measured by the sun’s beams
Entering Eden’s soft place
Sitting on a mushroom stool

Making light talk
With all the creatures
Great and small
The shadow had landed on the dial

Time is short
And now I must go
Everyone there knows
I will come again, to be back this way…

To Drift Away

2009-10-16T23:15:00.007-07:00

There’s a place where we go
A door opens to protected you in the night

There’s a place where we hide
To break away from the fears that sit deep inside

There we find a place, troubles are left behind
Darkness broken by the light

We allow ourselves to be free
Our cares float away a drift in the sky....

I’d Drifted Here and There Chasing Endeavors

2009-10-09T22:36:00.004-07:00

I hadn’t been around for a while I very much apologize for my absentee. I really hope I hadn’t lost any of you the friends I so much relied on and truly care about in our spherical blog world we had made.

I had drifted in and around from time to time. Flying on the weaken wings of inspirations with all of you continually on my mind, slowly starving my cerebral expressive ability to write.

So I thought a little about Greek mythology and what they had to experience with the scribes responsible for the arts and penned this scribble today.

Illusory Polyhymnia

Long corridors, the cold echoes
Spills down the halls
Glimpsing sound of footsteps
Ever coming close enough
Unrevealed unrecognized.

A penned yell, “Show yourself”
Illusive sights fade
Hunger pains
For an inspirational key
Turning of the head
Warm wind fills the lungs
Silent words seeps in
Breeze without a sound

Each finger falls
Letters drift into place
Conceptual thoughts
Inks the page
Heart races
Pulse pounds
Tear soaked parchments
Pains streams into verse
Pages of words
You know hold true

A palindromic liquidity

What I Pray

2009-08-08T07:01:00.003-07:00

One day our pain won’t lay the rules
Light fills every room
Kindness catches on

Hunger is not a norm
Selfish acts are unseen
Goes on to be ignored

When I pray

There will be an end to war
Power isn’t a payment for evil
Shadows lose their darkness
The world will be out of the gloom

I pray

Love is for everyone to hold
Bitterness disappears
And there is hate no more

The Ghosted Memories

2009-07-09T16:27:00.011-07:00

You have yours
I have to live with mine

As it whittles away
Leaving us in the day
Where the world was ours
Now Ghosted memories

Echoes of a love
In the disappearance of time.

Like, to so many of us, feeling that she was the most beautiful woman with a voice of powerful alluring talent, ever to be bestowed onto the world and the music scene and no one has ever come close.

Every time I reflect on the times back then, she and her music is always been part of those memories for me.

As a lot of us had discovered, time stays for no one.

Happy Birthday Linda, I will always love you.

Dream of Dreams

2009-07-05T17:32:00.012-07:00

We'd all had dreams, some we’ll share, some are like secretes we keep close to ourselves as in some type of personal sanctuary vault, with the hopes that the combination to our locks could never be deciphered.

I had mentioned awhile back that when I was so frustrated with my writings about five years ago, I had destroyed them all with a ritual burning.

Well it had so happened that I ran across few of them loosely in a forgotten storage in my humble desert dwelling of a home, carefully while on the watch of a cantankerous black widow or two that may be lingering about. I sorted through some of them, just wondering what the hell was I thinking or what girl did I think would be interested in my pocket full of my mumbled scribbles I would sometimes quickly pull out to dedicate to.

Some I may share with you, some I probable won’t, but you will have to keep in mind that these were done in a different time and place that the world is in today, that my world was in.

Some were written when I was in my teens. I was a drummer, songwriter and singer in a popular neighborhood band in the Seattle area. It was in the late sixties so much was happening at a very fast rate then.

I always considered myself to be so enriched with the cultural scene back then, fortunately I was able to be in the thick of it on some level or another. It still has so much to do with what influences of our world today and that of my own. So much so, I can’t escape it, even in my way of thinking, my thoughts and emotions, sometimes will creep in, finding them in my current writings and art, that still reflects on how I felt.

Chasing Dreams was one of those short ones I wrote back then and this one Dream of Dreams was one if I remember right was one we wrote music to.

We'd like playing in the parks such as Greenlake, Woodland, the fountain at the Seattle Center and a little park by my house called Ross Park. We would sit around in a half circle to which people gathered, it was another opportunity for us to try out new songs we were working on.

To me some of these are kind of dorky with a hint of cheesiness to them. Hey! Can’t say I didn’t warn you, I was young and flying free.

Dream of Dreams

I slip away to a place
Where no one goes
A place no one knows
I live where
My dreams come true
When I go to my dreams
There’s never no wrong
I dance to the serenade
Of my own songs
In the land of dreams
There are those who care
In my dream of dreams
Friends walk with me
For how ever long

Come with me
In my dreams
Laugh while we run
Through meadows
When comes the night
There’s no fear
We’ll sit on the clouds
Stars in the sky
We’ll wish on every one
Milky way holds
So many
The wish I dream
Is you would be with me
In my dreams
Dream all your dreams
I know it’s a place
Where your dreams
Will come true
For you too
Dare to dream
Your dreams

Chasing Dreams

2009-07-03T19:09:00.006-07:00

I’d felt when dreams are held to tightly

Opening your hand only to loose them to the winds

There are times when it falls, far from the heart

A smile passed on, keeps it all from falling apart

In the wilderness of changes, paths may divide

I don’t know why, I will keep it all inside

It’s not the road to a goal

More due to the dreams you claim

as your own.

Road Trip

2009-04-13T18:35:00.004-07:00

I'd been getting to know a new camera so I thought I would share one of my first shots with it.

OK! You got me, I just wanted rush on warmer weather, if this don't scream spring days, I don't know what will...

Bewildered and Dazed

2009-04-11T22:07:00.008-07:00

I'd had been through this experience more than once, never understanding how I'd could had made it through each time. Now more than ever, I have an appreciation for life trying not to take anything for granted. So much holds more importance to me such as this blog and the friends that I had been able to share with in the blogging community. Even with all that said, I am doing well, usually landing on my feet.

The experience wasn't to long ago but during my rehabilitation is when I rediscovered writing and the blogs at the end of last year. Thanks to you all, I am much a stronger person.

Closing the door behind me
Warming sun splashes my side
Stepping onto the sidewalk
Echoes of distant noises
Something tells me
this is not going to be an usual day

People circle around me
Asking if I’m feeling any pain
I don’t understand what they are saying
The sunny skies are turning grey

Cares I’ve had now have no meanings
My body wants to drift to another place
I notice a bird flying then fading dark
Someone is calling out
Questions from the past

Then a light pokes its way from the deep
Calling for my name
I try to recognize those who are around
Feeling their hands as I still drift away

Fainting voices start getting louder
I think your going to be OK
We’re going to give you something
For your pain

Down the long halls as ceiling lights pass by
To a cold room
Where all is quiet now
Knowing something has gone so wrong
Bewildered left in my daze

2009-03-12T21:09:00.006-07:00

Cuckoo Clock

When my grandson would come over to our place, he’s so amazed by the cuckoo clock. It would bring back the memories of my grandmother I was very close to growing up. (From my archives)

Cuckoo Bird Where Did You Go?

Tis a happy day for me
Off to Gramps house to play you see

Tis one thing I don't understand
Little black house with a little white hand

Every time, when the cuckoo comes out
I run behind the living room couch

That little cuckoo bird hid back in
Gramps! Darn! I miss him again?

To see him, I have to be quick as a hick-up
Wait 'til the big hand points straight up

Finally I get to see him, little bird I'd heard before
He came out on his perch, then slammed the door

When I go to Gramps and hear the tick-tock
I see the cuckoo bird I love so much

Up there on the wall
In his big black clock…

Are You Hungry?

2009-02-24T21:34:00.011-08:00

A lot of us seem to have been hit with one type of sickness or another, maybe cabin fever over a prolonged winter or some been feeling kind of down.

And others had been missing in action in our blogging neighborhood, till they get feeling better. Well, we will be glad to have you all back.

I felt, I would like to lighten the mood a bit. So I thought I would post this one.

It came up when I was watching a documentary about it a few years back, for one thing I couldn’t believe it warranted a documentary. But hey, they have to fill the time slots with something right?

I used to like it at one time, before my health conciseness took hold several years ago.

I knew that there was an almost cult type following over the stuff and that Hawaii was it’s capital of consumption. Who would have ever known?

How ever I did write this just to be funny, it was one I never took very serious and I sure never planed on putting it out here.

And this will probably gross some of you out, and some of the closet eaters of the stuff, that may never want to admit it, but then that's not really the point

We need some smiles going on…

Mystery Can

One day feeling hungry
Like I never felt before
Decided to go down to the
Neighborhood grocery store

Fumbling through the isles
Looking for a tasty treat
Found a strange square can
Amongst other luncheon meats

So many ways to prepare it
You can cook it in a pan
Or slap it between some bread
With eggs and other types of ham

I prefer it with taters
Or any way you can
One thing you never want to do
Is read the ingredients of your very

Own can of Spam...

Chuckanut Bay

2009-02-18T21:13:00.011-08:00

Setting sun as to put the world asleep
Last of the golden light
Slowly fading behind the islands
Dark coal blanket the pinhole sky
Just enough to let some of the light
Reveal the San Juans out across her lap

Mother, I called out to her
Nature snuggles gently to her bosoms
All that is pure in her woods tonight

Answering back a rising lunar sphere
Outline a doe and fawn

absent of daylight colors
Orcas enchant as sirens of the deep

Feeling safe in her arms
She comforts me
Drifting off in my own repose

Wakening by a familiar bald eagle
Acting as a sentry
In the morning twilight

Miles of plush velvet clouds
Laid out across the bay
high up
In solitude

Chuckanut Mountain

Corcus in Snow

2009-02-17T15:06:00.024-08:00

When I seen this picture it reminded me of this poem

A few of weeks ago I was looking for a poem I’d had written couple of years before, my brother wanted me to find one he’d remember and I’d didn’t. Some of you may remember, titled A Child’s Angel.

Some of you that know me, my style, is that every now and then I like to write in the simplest of forms. I just like the impact better sometimes.

I’d had found several that I will eventually post, when the time is right. This one is on the same line, of my series of the simple pleasure poems. I’d had already have some of them in earlier post on this blog, one titled Question is one I did after I wrote It’s the Little Things…

It’s the Little Things

How can we ignore
The simple things

As a child smiles
In the rain

Sun’s rays
On a Cold day

The smell
Of breakfast
At camp

How can anyone ignore
What I see
When I look into
Your eyes

Feelings of the heart Of whom We don't even know

Young love

An elder’s admiration
For each other

Or ignore the
Sound of an
Enchanting melody
Of a small wooden flute

Sunbeams through
The trees
On the forest floor

How can we ignore
A kitten’s cry
For a mothers milk

A single crocus
In the snow

First opening
Flower
In the spring

How can we ignore
Little things

That makes
Us
Whole

The Blank Blackboard of Creativity

2009-02-15T22:41:00.017-08:00

I was suffering a bout of writers block, a sort of lapse in creativity.

So I’d, diverted my attentions away from blogging for the time being. I had a few other projects that needed some attention.

Work a little while on some of my photography stuff, tried to clean up my wood shop and working a little bit on the garden shed, then off to sorting the stain glass and mosaics for future projects.

Plus getting ready to get our business up and going in the next couple of months by spring…

But this one little story kept creeping in my mind; it is about the looking for the creative side of one-self. Being lost in a fantasy world of enriched inspirations while trying to put something artful together, in a world others had gotten lost…

All I had to do was to pay attentions to the subtle clues around everywhere and form guidance or a map if you will, back to one’s creative side, a spirit…

Boy, it sure sounded good in my head though. Now that it is written out, well, I suppose I will be editing it a few times here and there.

from deviantart...

Search for the Lost Poem

There’s a time
When the winds are still
A forest path
That leads to nowhere

Lost for words
Hearing a fainted flute
Brings you in further

A path by the pond
There’s a toad laughing
Birds in the trees keep singing

All that is gold
Can fool you
It just is
What it is

Down the trail there’s a stone
With strange markings
Not knowing what they say
Preceding
Ignoring

Next to a dam
A wise beaver points
The other way
Saying
You won’t find it here
What you came for

Whispering through the leaves
Are the voices of those
Who wandered
Lost

Their unwritten poems
Songs never sung
Artist left aimless

Leaving the woods
Throwing your best
To the breeze
Hoping not to feel so vulnerable
Or too harshly criticized

Finding all that
Appears to be gold
Will be fooled

Sitting by an old oak
Taking in the surroundings
The sounds
Fragrances
Swept up
In the currents of air

Two dragonflies
Circles the oak

Following them
As they wait for you
To catch up

Taking you closer
To the edge of the forest
Out into the meadow
To where you started

Words fall from the sky
Scattered to the ground

Standing back
Phrases start to emerge
Stanzas form
To the writings of self-style
And the awareness of
Found discoveries

For You Brother

2009-02-01T22:14:00.022-08:00

I was flipping through some that I’d had written a couple of years ago. My brother was trying to describe one that stuck out in his mind.

I kind of remember it, but then, I kind of didn’t.

Then I ran across this one. Now I remember!

Well, David my little bro, this one’s for you…

We talk a lot on the phone almost every day sometimes upwards of two to four hours.

He’d had put over hundred thousand miles last year listening to lonely songs of those eighteen wheels on the interstate.

I would travel with him sitting at home protected from the elements as he battled blizzards in the Dakotas, struggled through the driving rains in the heartland and the heat in Arizona-Texas.

I wrote this when I knew a couple that had lost their young one through an illness.

I'd remember the sense of helplessness going through it, then the point when one finally succumbs to the fate that’s handed down.

http://fraeuleinamok.deviantart.com/

A Child’s Angle

Mommy, will I ever see an angel?
The child’s questions go on
Someday my little one
But when, you can never tell

Storm clouds moves over the young girl’s bed
Hush, my darling you need to sleep
They will take good care of you
Get well, everything will be alright

Mommy, I seen an angel in the room
She was over in the corner
Did she say anything?
She told me not worry; she’ll see me soon

Nurse, comes rushing to her side
Doctor, is there anything that can be done?
It’s up to a higher power now
She needs her rest and some quiet

Mommy, the angel spoke to me tonight
My little one
What did she say?
Sleep, follow my dream and take her hand

In lawns of green on a tree line street
Stands a statue of an angel that looks above
A plaque that reads our little one,
Went to heaven to find her angel to meet.

Thank You for this Honorable Award

2009-01-31T20:14:00.021-08:00

Thank you Tracey-Ann, Elle and Old Mossy Moon, for awarding me this award. I will pass it on to others as well, with great gratitude and deep appreciation…

The rule as handed down is as describe:

The Lemonade Award is for sites, which show great attitude and/or gratitude! Rules for the award: 1. Put the logo on your blog or post. 2. Nominate at least 10 blogs, which show great Attitude and/or Gratitude! 3. Be sure to link to your nominees within your post. 4. Let them know that they have received this award by commenting on their blog. 5. Nominate your favorites and link to this post. I have nominated the following blogs among us:

Cherie ~ Butterfly Dreamer
Ellyssa ~ EllyNeill Designs
Beloved Dreamer
Michele Cameron Drew ~ Digital Artisan
Laura ~ Under The Sheets-Shhh
Grace DeWitt ~ Where Quiet Sits and Dreams
Juliet Wilson ~ Crafty Green Poet

Clydean ~ Where the Buffalo Roam

Rhi ~ Peanut Butter Bound

While the Winter Season Last

2009-01-27T21:43:00.010-08:00

I wasn’t going to post this poem, but I decided do go ahead anyway. Some of them I probably never will and several of them I know I never will.

What the heck!

We had a nice intense sunny day. So I started to do a little writing, soaking in the sunrays piercing across the cold winter room.

My three dogs lying across my feet in the sun getting every sliver they could stretch out and reach for

I’d been getting kind of tired of the winter taking so long for the season to pass, I do realize it is just that time of the year and we do have a little while left to go. I think few of us are going through some of the same anxieties of cabin fever. I know I am.

Even though I enjoy having the four defined seasons to cycle through and our summers can be longer than the rest and I’m Ok with that. I need to be outside more than in.

Once the better weather starts I’ll be working more and having less leisure time to spend and that’s Ok too.

Still I couldn’t help it, whittling the hours away thinking of much warmer days in the tall grasses in the fields. Where the forest comes alive the air fills with insects, bees and the seeds floating to find fertile places to settle.

Nature's Awakening

In the spring when the darken chill
Slowly leaves the scene
Crocus sneak through the matted leaves
Poking their heads toward warm sunbeams

Songs of the bird’s carries past the trees
Forest awakens the woods
Creatures magnificent and small
Find the sun where they stood

Painted meadows beyond the shady groves
Is where, you’re leading me
Laying down in the fields
Hidden away in a sea of greens

Holding hands as we do our dance
Bringing honor to the spring
Love in the light of day, careful to
Stay away from the fairy rings

Hurrying to be getting back
Before the sun sets, it's getting late
Leaving the last touch of your hand
Lasting kiss at the garden gate

When the moonlight glows in the window
Through the shears
Dreams fill the room
Of the dance we held near

Seeds we’ve sowed within us
That one spring day
Committing our hearts
Is where we plan to settle and stay

Letting Go

2009-01-18T20:06:00.003-08:00

Walk by the old house the other day
Where the rusted screen door laid
Still empty after all these years
Creaking floors that holds so many tears

Clapboard siding lost the memories
Of what the colors used to be
Broken fence letting the weeds out
Now covers the old living room couch

Walk down the driveway today
Where the kids road their bikes and played
It’s sad it never did sell
All of our dreams that went away and fell

Closed the gate when I left, don’t know why
I think it was something in me, deep inside
The place has become quite the eye sore
I won’t be going back there

Anymore…

Song of the Northern Lights

2009-01-10T18:41:00.005-08:00

A moonless night, saffron fields

Silent, motionless calm

Invades the darken realms

Standing there wrought with chills

Shards of colors sweeps an ebony sky

Songs of the northern lights

Waves sways its hues, bright

During the chorus, fliers don’t fly

Mesmerize and amazed by what has gone on

Blue, reds, greens and gold

Nature’s musical light show

A fortunate witness to an earth phenomenon

The Incomig Storms

2009-01-09T21:19:00.016-08:00

I was listening to the morning news about more storms heading our way. Oh that’s nice, I thought to myself. After spending the day before picking up parts of my roof shingles around the yard. At the same time checking on the newly planted trees and shrubs I had planted last spring, anticipating these types of conditions knowing how it can get. Though they’re doing just fine.

I’d also had been listening to the reports of all the suffering going on all around us from the battering they had been taking from severe whether, the flooding, collapsed buildings, erosion, avalanches, mud slides and just general property losses.

We’ve been pretty lucky so far… I pray that they continue to stay clear from the jaws of an angry earth…

Storms (Acrostic Style Poem)

Straddled within our protective lodge
Tumultuous skins easily feel pain
Our reassuring needs hold us as
Refugees till approaching whether pass
More victuals stored

Saneness that we'd hope will last

I'm Honored of Winning a Blogging Award

2009-01-08T14:25:00.022-08:00

Gracious Laura, at Under The Sheets-Shhh had bestowed on me at LostNight Scribblings my first online award ever. I am very honored and grateful.

Thank you very much Laura, I will proudly display it on the mantel of the massive stone fireplace in my great-room.

So the rules to accepting my award are as follows: A) first list 10 honest things about yourself - and make it interesting, even if you have to dig deep! B) Pass the award on to 7 bloggers that you feel embody the spirit of the Honest Scrap.

Passing the award onto 7 other bloggers, well thats OK. But listing 10 honest things about myself, well! That’s reaching into the danger zone now.

I’ll do the best I can, so here it goes, as I tightly grip my chair…

1 When I develop new friends it takes me awhile to allow someone into my bubble space. When I do trust, I hold a lot of value to the friendship no matter how long it last or the stresses that pull on it.

2 Unfortunately have had strong physic abilities that I’d spent a fair amout of effort to ignore a lot of the time, then hate it when I’m right.

3 I’ve came across places that I'm able to quickly discovered that are haunted and I have lived in places that were.

4 I sometimes rely on my sense of humor to much, to a point that even when I’m in serious trouble, like cracking jokes with an ambulance drivers and emergency room doctors.

5 Being a single parent and one of the original Mr. moms in our state probably saved my life.

6 Building a life with my best friend for over twenty years and never having an argument or hurt feelings with each other since we’ve met. I am truly blessed with her.

7 Parenthood was one of the most enriching and rewarding things I’d ever done. Now I spend too much time with our dogs and able to communicate with them, just a little to easy.

8 I’ve always had prided myself of never being the typical guy and gotten along with women better as friends.

9 Sometimes I enjoy spirited arguments, excuse me (debates).

10 I find it annoying that I’ve ruined another shirt, with spoons that seem to leak.

The 7 blogs I would like to pass the “Honest Scrap Award” onto are;

Noelle, Portrait of the Human Heart

Christopher, View From The Northern Wall

K. Lawson Gilbert, Old Mossy Moon

Tracy, Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

Azakamarina, MY LEMON VIEWS

Prince Naki, THOUGHTS AND OPINIONS

Bastcrystal, Thoughtful Creativity

Montana’s Native Nation

2009-01-05T15:05:00.011-08:00

My father told us when we were growing up that we had some Native American ancestry in our family tree. We didn’t believe him all that much and kind of just blew it off, so through our life we didn’t give it much more thought.

I mean heck, we sure didn’t look like it or anything. I probably did more than my brothers or sisters. My dad kind of did.

He liked his cowboy look though. He wore the whole thing the hat, dark styled clothes, and rattlesnake proof lineman booths, living in the snake area part of our state and being outside every chance we could get. We had to take precautions.

Sure I have black hair and got dark at the beginning of summer without trying very hard, then been confused as having some kind of Spanish decent and then jokingly blurt out it’s just the Indian part coming out.

Well my dad died in the mid nineties and the point is, that we started poking around in our genealogy more than before after he died. Gathering tons of information along with old photos.

Some of us were noticing who were these people that appeared to be dark skinned and looked to be native Indian as our past relatives? Maybe our dad wasn’t “bull shitting” us after all. Some of the tree rooted out of Canada and northwest Montana he did say we had Blackfoot in us.

I’ve seemed to feel those tugs throughout my life especially while I’m in my meditative or in my creative cycles and phases, which were fairly regular. I’ve always felt a high in the spiritual senses when it came to a communal life that I lived in a long time ago and then with the experiences with earth teachings of wildlife, nature, gardening, herbal medicines, art and now writing. I felt my soul purpose was to express my self through these mediums.

I use to joke with my family of life-long avid hunters and yes mostly with the bow! That the way I hunt is with the camera.

I still have my catch years later and I didn’t have to take the spirit of the animal that deserved to be there. Besides I had no problem with the store gods providing me with the provisions needed to raise my family no matter how much I disliked it, buying stuff I didn’t grow or to make myself.

I’d remembered when we used to go fossil, plant and rock hunting throughout the northwest of the U.S. and up into Canada, even as a kid. That when I would take something from the forest or mountains I would secretly make an offering in the form of a ritualized prayer and asking for the permission for what the earth allowed me to possess, I would reassure the earth spirits that it would only to be use for the purpose of good never greed or evil.

No one ever told me this at the age of ten and twelve about this sort of thing, I felt it in my heart that it was necessary and I should be grateful for what the earth allowed me to have.

But then we’d had also traced some of our ancestry to Germany, England and to cork county Ireland.

We had pretty much at the ends of what we’d had been able to search and left it at that several years ago.

I just can’t help but feel that there is a spirit guide, giving me that nudge now and then.

Some already know how much I believe in angles. I know I have both…

Native Blood

Eyes wander off to a distant skyline
Just below the full moon’s glow
Lone wolf calls to the gathering hills
As my native spirit grows

Sensing Montana’s blood
That circulates within me
Ancestral lines and veins
The Indian mortality

Soul, lends to winds
Easing into a spiritual birth
Nature surrounds me
Trees
Rocks
And earth

Native heritage speaks through the stars
Algonquians words, fills the sky
Soul rides on the mighty bird
Transcends my awareness of sight

My daughter gets to play with all the good toys

2008-12-26T20:55:00.017-08:00

She has been doing really well in her behavioural neuroscience classes at the university. I'm so proud of her, though I wish she could sneak me in to play with some of the cool stuff too. Something about security. Oh yeah, I guess you have to be a student or something. It doesn't count if I hadn't been there for a few years.

Her electron microscope slides of some lichen won a couple awards and this one made it into the 2009 calender, how excited I feel for her. I kind of miss the old campus.

Now that she is down for the Christmas break and seeking refuge from the chaotic life for the one day she'll be able to spend at home. Shes wanting a vegan dinner. I still hadn't decided what I'll be making yet, but I'll get it worked out.

I've pretty much have had the affectionate title of kitchen dad for quite some time. I'd always enjoy cooking at home and for anyone else that happens to drop by.

When Your Angel Appears

2008-12-20T08:58:00.006-08:00

Alone in the dark
The air is light
Thoughts drift about
Lost dreams seep in

The secretes of darkness unfolds
When an angel appears
To watch over you
She wipes the tears from your chin

Speaks in the most gentle of lullabies
Holding your hand
Whispering the soft words
Silently by your side

Guiding through the perils
The path is before you
Listen
Listen to her
May you find your light...

Kaleidoscope

2008-12-18T20:14:00.004-08:00

My eye ventures the long hall
Ending in a myriad of colors
Through journeys lost time
Of shards, jaded hue’s

With every cylinder twist
New explorations unfold
Further into the recesses
Outer walls of the mind

Turning it the other way
You realize
Your not on your way back

Going forward
Is to pull away.

Litter Me This

2008-12-16T15:21:00.006-08:00

Cruising down the interstate
Sadly woes
Wood, cardboard and paper
Alongside the road

A tearful Indian
Comes to mind
Put in bags
Give it time

Won’t be long
As humans go
It will all be back
Don’t you know

Retribution Is as fleeting
Some can’t stop
With all the littering!

Lady in the Scarlet Dress

2008-12-13T22:44:00.007-08:00

There was a farm
I used to visit there
The lady of the house
Made the sweetest things
Of crisp golden brown

On a few acres of land
Tended with the loving care
In her scarlet dress

Gather herbs in the garden
For the early morning guest
Memories enough to go around
And more for the rest

Its not there anymore
A long time ago

On the hill above
Looking out
Where it once stood
With the heart's memories
Distressed

You can see
What use to be
The happiness sounds
Aroma's of love
That were prepare

I miss that lady
In the scarlet dress

The Strange Bus Ride

2008-12-12T13:34:00.011-08:00

I’m not used to taking the city bus, but my car broke down, so I was going to the shop to pick it up then drive back home. I thought the experience of a bus ride would be kind of nostalgic and bring back some old times when it was my way of getting around town when I was younger.

I would call just to make sure I knew which one to take, where to catch it and how much the fare would be.

The next day I walked down to where I was supposed to be at and stood there at the right time.

Making sure I was having the right amount of change ready as the approaching bus slowed to a stop.

I got on, step up, putting my bus fare in the fare slot. Then I’d noticed the bus driver’s name ID tag was Cecil. I had an uncle named Cecil once, but he had died when I was just twenty. He sort of looked like him except he was skinnier and didn’t have a mustache. I just put it out of my mind and didn’t think about it much more.

I started my way through the isle, not knowing whom I might be stuck sitting with.

Ah, an empty seat, feeling the sense of luck. Now I have the control of who sits next to me.

Not really, I thought. Even though I knew the little control I did have was all depending on how I would present myself when someone would decide to sit down in the seat with me, besides I didn’t want someone strange or weird sitting there.

We came up to another bus stop in front of a grocery store, an elderly woman got on. Putting her bags down as she was paying her fare she looked around. I caught her looking at my seat, great! There are plenty of others, please sit in one of those. I thought loudly to myself.

I turned toward the window, just kept looking outside. Then it happened. She sat down, right next to me.

She smelled of grandma perfume. It wasn’t to bad I thought, I suppose I can tolerate it for a little while, I hope she’s not going very far.

Her perfume kind of reminded me of my grandmother and couple of great aunts, I thought of them once in awhile and missed them very much.

They would tell me some of their funniest stories of growing up. They had all passed on when I was a teenager.

She started talking to me. She seemed to be a sweet old lady. She would talk about her family from long ago. She had two sisters name Kathryn and the other one named Jessie. Her sister Kathryn had a large family and that she had spent a lot of time with and enjoyed her sister’s grandchildren she had missed them for so many years.

Well young man, it was nice talking to you. This is my stop up here, Winslow Avenue; this is where I get off.

Yes, it was nice talking to you too. Then I hesitated. With her hand on my shoulder she said. My name is Ester Gaitland.

She had step off the bus and went to the white picket fence gate, in front of a white-clapboarded styled cottage.

The bus pulled away, I thought how much of a coincidence was that.

That was my great aunts and grandmother’s names. My grandmother had a large family.

I spent my childhood with them, some of my fondest memories.

When I got home. I called the transit company. The man there was pretty helpful, at first.

Well sir, he said. We have no one that works here named Cecil. And like I said I check! There is no street in the city anywhere named Winslow Avenue.

And there is no buses scheduled at that stop where you got on at, on the hour. They are fifth teen minutes after and fifth teen minutes till the hour each day.

I don’t know what else to tell you, sir.

A couple of days later I drove where the old woman got off the buss at and looked for that quaint cottage with the picket fence.

As puzzled as I was, it was a vacant field and there was no bus stop anywhere there.

Every now then I think about that bus ride.

I had never ridden a bus since and I don’t think I will be able to again.

Rolling Rocks

2008-12-12T13:29:00.003-08:00

When I was about ten I was riding through the mountain pass with my Dad and uncle.

I noticed some signs that said “Watch Out for Rolling Rocks”. Well, that kind of puzzled me for a while. So I finally asked them. What did that sign mean? They both turned to each other. Well should we tell him? About the little Indian brave, my uncle said. Dad replied he’d probably hear about it sooner or later.

Well it started a long time ago. It was about the time when the settlers were moving out west in their wagon trains. Stirring up dust, making noise and camping in the Indians prized hunting grounds. Once that group of wagons and settlers would go through another group of them would go through, doing the same thing to the Indians territory. By this time the Indians were getting madder as each month passed by. They would hold pow-wows of how they were going to deal with these trespassers tromping in their mountains.

After several get togethers of all the other surrounding Indians tribes, they felt there wasn’t much they could about it. None of them knew what could be done; they didn’t want to talk to them. They weren’t quite sure what to expect. So they just hope the settlers would just go away.

Well they didn’t! Now they would wander off the trail and hunt their wild animals, cut down their trees for firewood and other things.

There was this one little Indian brave. What I mean by little was, he was full-grown but he is smaller than all the other braves of his age.

He decided one day to take it upon himself to do something about it. After all the rest of other braves were afraid to confront them.

The little brave went up on the top of the mountainsides and set rocks on top. So when a group of wagons would go that way again he would roll the rocks in front of them.

After all he didn’t want to hurt anyone he just wanted to scare them so they wouldn’t go through there anymore. He made sure no one ever seen him, he was small after all, and was good at hiding and getting away.

After a few times of this going on, the word started to spread back east where they would set out with the wagon trains to head west, that those mountains may be haunted or something.

To the rest of the other Indians they were amazed that the brave little Indian plans were working. The settlers didn’t seem to come by as often. The word traveled fast to the other Indian tribes camps in other mountain passes.

His tribe was so excited about his bravery and contribution. And it was one of they’re own. They would eventually make him a chief. From that day forward he was known as “Chief Rolling Rocks”.

Well sorry to say, some good things are known to come to an end. The settlers found it to be necessary to keep pushing out west to settle the new lands. The stories of how great the hunting, fishing and fertile lands were. They started to come that way again.

He still carried out his campaign of trying to scare the westward bound settlers, but it wasn’t having much effect anymore.

Eventually time went on and the west was becoming more developed. Highways were put through the mountain passes for easier traveling for the modern day cars.

What about the little Indian brave turned chief. He latter went on in spirit to his favorite hunting grounds.

To this day when you go through the mountain passes you will find those warning signs that say “Watch Out for Rolling Rocks” I sometimes had found some over the years where, someone had wrote in chief on some those road way signs.

Anytime you hear that rocks had rolled down the mountainside on to the road. That just may had been the spirit of that little brave turn chief, still trying to get his message across to the unsuspecting travelers that he is still around even though in spirit

Rest in peace little brave Indian chief, rest in peace…

The Eagle’s Eye

2008-12-09T23:03:00.003-08:00

How envious am I, the eagle flies
Over the vast soft greenery
Tree branches supported pillows
The valley divided, by a cool running vain

Rocky walls higher up to the spires
A majestic ram standing his stay
Mule deer grazes on tender fields
Smaller wing masters prowling their prey

An ever-changing subtle way of life
As to a rhythm of a symphony’s sonata
On the warm sweeping winds

The Last Apple Tree

2008-12-04T22:00:00.007-08:00

It was a time long ago

Village crops started to fail

On there, out of the way island

Losing most of the trees

Fulfilling building

And other needs

Only one tree left

So much hope to survive

That night

A special campfire meeting

Was called

No more apples should be eating

The villagers didn’t listen

To the rule

They ate

Till there was only one

Left on the tree

Well, they cried our end has begun

We will post a guard to watch

The last apple on the tree

Appointed sentry slept

The last one fell

A mute villager

Found it and wouldn’t tell

Took it home for the family to share

When it was gone

All there was left were the seeds

With his voice no one heard before

We will nurture them here

Then pant them outdoors

The village didn’t know

What they were going to do

Quickly running out of food

All their corps dying or dead

We will have to leave our beloved island

Look for somewhere else instead

The mute citizen with plenty to say

We will secretly

Take these little seedlings

Plant them across the hills

Next spring trees growing everywhere

The island community was thrilled

He was made the village rule maker

For every one apple that is eating

One has to be planted

Soon so many apples to eat and for compost

All the other crops came back

Food for all, wood for most

The moral to my little story is

If it’s your last bite

You hadn’t done nothing to prepare

Give back to mother earth’s care

Later you will be rewarded

With plenty to share…

Star Child’s Lullaby

2008-12-04T21:50:00.006-08:00

Sleep my child
Sleep to the flickering
Of the campfire light
Dancing shadows
Dances the tree branches

Dream of the unicorns
Forest fairy rings
Dream of those magical things

What the wood nymph sings
Sleep away my child
Sleep deeply

In your moss maiden bed
Beautiful are the little white flowers
That dances around your head
Close your eyes

Ever so softly grin
Good night
Good night
As the firelight
Dims…

The Last Garden Flower

2008-12-04T21:38:00.005-08:00

Last flower in the garden
I’ll be with you to stay
You are left here all alone
The others have faded away

The season has come to an end
Nights are getting colder
Sun light has dimmed

Place your burden on my shoulder
Surrounding fragrance is gone
Greenery is turning brown
If you want to sleep

You may lay your head down
I feel sadness by your bed
The loss of color in your blossom

You are the last flower
As summer heads into autumn
It has grown darker
I look back to the those days
When it was full of life

Under the sunshine rays
Sleep my friend
It's getting late
The last flower in the garden

I'll gently close the gate...

Pleasure

2008-12-04T21:30:00.005-08:00

Joy comes to those who reach for their dreams
Some struggles with their perils
For others an illusion
Those are what seems

Simple pleasures are all that is nature
Some never see
Sound of a welcome rain
A well place dream catcher

Sands of a retreating tide
Walking on an ocean shore
Our spirits wander to a distant island
You by my side

Question

2008-12-04T21:20:00.008-08:00

Who’s to say?
Where the love goes
While wrongs consumes our days

Who’s to say?
What can make us whole again
When life is so empty

Who’s to say?
How longs the road
The journey has taking so long

Who’s to say?
Where your heart is
When I see, you can’t feel mine

Does your heart find
The love I’d shared
Or like the bird
You, let it go

Who’s to say?
When we are old
A life of regrets, may-be full

Who’s to say?
What will be in the end
When it’s our time
To go.

Nocturnal Slumber

2008-12-04T21:03:00.004-08:00

Close your eyes
Rest the wary soul
Let the day slip away

Sleep sleep
In the soft meadow
The stars watch over you

Summer breeze
Kisses your face
In a nocturnal slumber

Mind's Fragile Causeway

2008-12-04T20:43:00.017-08:00

No matter how intelligent one feels or how un-fragile their insensibility's can be. The mind is only one incident away of being damage to a permanent state. It seems that their own smarts lends to a false sense of “not-happening-to-me” persona.

I’ve seen the young or at any age be struck down in the prime of their life through mental illness, PTSD, chemical imbalances, head injuries or other types of catastrophes of traumas the body may endure such as a stroke. They are likely to be institutionalized for sometimes upwards of life.

Some may even function in what seems to be a normal existence. But inside is an everyday a constant struggle, just to survive in what can be an inhospitable world. While others have to work hard to keep up a front to preserve their own protection of being ridicule, shunned or they had suffered that unimaginable fate. (to be continued)

Stone Chapel Hill

2008-11-30T22:27:00.010-08:00

Moon hides behinds
An old stone church spire
On an barren grassy hill
Shards of light
Spills onto the ground
Through the stain glass
Lighting a path
Stepple doors

A poor man knocks
Prior, I seek only
Refuge from the night
A few crumbs
For a shrunken belly
I will work for any blessings
You may bestow on me
Stairs are in need of repair
To an upper floor

He work night and through the day
Until the task was complete
As he came
He disappeared
Down the path

Sunday
When the stone chapple on the hill
Filled with the worshipers
Amazement filled thier eyes
Stairs exquisitely built
No supports
No nails

Whispers blew accross the pews
The Prior, announced
His spoken name
Was Joseph

Never to be seen from again....

Cry of Whales

2008-11-30T21:37:00.007-08:00

Lonely are the sounds
Of a singling pod
Crying out
The displeasure
Of a lost young

Oh.. the crying
Throughout night

Soaring through
The seas
As the albatross
In flight

Oh.. the
Whaling cries
Of these Seas

Railroad Canvas

2008-11-30T21:21:00.012-08:00

Stopped at the railroad crossing
Not in a hurry
But I really didn’t want to wait
Rolling taggers canvas
Cluttered in paint
Some alliances some rants

All the same
I didn’t want to be late
Then one rail car went by
Pleading
“God Save the Earth”
And time stopped

Brief Escape

2008-11-30T20:15:00.022-08:00

Howling autumn wind cries
Through the trees
Branches bang against
The cold siding
Another night of candlelight plays
Staying warm by the fireplace

Time to open a book
Pages thrills my desires
When gone to long
The morning sun
Brings another day
To admire.