Gates

through the gates we slowly go

savoring the moment, expecting the birth

of life everlasting, we walk to the portico

the imaginings have come true after great effort

in through the doors of dark oak and glass

taking a deep breath as each moment passes

it seems that the room opens up to the sky

the color of green grass, the carpet like sand,

comfort established as smiles we greet

warm hugs surround us with each one we meet

sculpted shrubbery perfects every view

and everywhere is a window to let in the light

a cozy fireplace with a double-sided flue

completes the openness as arches abound

to call it home is a gift from far above

such a place endures with God’s gift of love

Waiting

waiting for the other shoe to drop

waiting for payday, for the dentist,

waiting for the rain to stop or to start,

anxiety in all its forms scrape our souls

and make us ask about our worth

because if we were worthy, it seems,

we could have what we want right away

and what we don’t want, well, it would go away

but sometimes we don’t have a choice

the magic just is not there or luck runs thin

to make things happen in our preferred time

so we must wait without control

for the good, the bad, the not-so-bad

and take it as it comes, for if we do,

we realize it’s not so sad to wait

Alone

alone on Thanksgiving day makes you sad

for the things you are thankful for

begins with family—those we love and value

who love us and make our days worthwhile

so the loneliness of time alone brings reflection

upon the good times and good people in our lives

upon the things we have that bring us joy

but being alone on the holidays is sad

because those people are not with us

we are cut off and alone to cry

yet we must not forget the things we have

such as a home and bed and car and health

we have so many things that make up our days

but we overlook them when our people are not there

Idyll

towering above the green, velvet garden

stone upon stone, befitting a castle,

taller than the magnolia trees that arch and weep

statuary graces the flowering shrubs of pink

peace resides in this place of respite

as if it came gently out of Avalon

to bless us with its grandeur, its grace,

residing where the clouds rest on mountains

so quiet, the idyll of a modern prince

left to collect ivy and turtle doves

perhaps it will find a new endeavor

as modern minds find new uses for old things

though its fine portraits and grand staircases

lend to the creation of a royal home

who in this world could respect its calling?

Old Chair

rich brown leather covers my old chair

so soft and molded to my frame

one leg hangs o’er the arm, the other down,

as I lean my head deep into the back

my arms holding the fluffy, plaid pillow

tight to my chest while it supports my book

a tale of elemental gods and powers

that we, standing on our own two feet

can’t imagine wielding, or just can’t imagine

but this is my favorite place, in my old chair,

to allow my vision to soar, and yet,

I remain safe in the arms of my chair

the soft light from silver lamps

are the guides to my travels as I close my eyes

and tally the cost of the tickets to go

wherever the written page shall take me

Haggard

coarse course of haggard trails

bearing brambles to be cut away

interfere with the smooth running

of everyday affairs and best-laid plans

as if the sky were falling down

and Chicken Little had broadcast the news

in adult terms perhaps we think of rockslides

or crashes on Wall Street that lead to failure

of our failsafe hopes and intentions

but no matter how sure our inventions

of ways to keep everyone happy

some will not be fed and some miss dessert

Claustrophobia

claustrophobia is a state of mind

for certain persons whose past lives

held them tighter than they liked

an imagination that the breath shortened

and pressure from outside was greater

than the mind could stand to have

if perhaps they recall being prisoner

in a tomb or a box or a sink hole

where that breath was not free and easy

or somehow they were restricted

by their own choice or another’s

it just seems that envisioning themselves

riding bareback on a racing thoroughbred

with its mane whipping the face

and the air rushing, rushing through the nostrils

that perhaps that claustrophobia would go

Imagination

colors of autumn fade to ash

as all skies mourn year’s coming end

fate and fantasy blend in waltz

the coming fortune follows tears and fears

but ere the soul becomes resigned

to failure in the art of hope,

help uplifts the heart of gold

and charity edges through the challenge

of day to day sadness, remorse,

the loss of love, companionship,

but one who sees through a dark swell

comes to shatter the shroud of darkness

and light the flame wielded in grace

where two, a perfect pair, are matched

and the unseen then becomes real

where wholeness burns through imagination

Gray Lace

in dreams we see the colors bright

the shades of gray melt fast away

we open portals to new worlds

the caveat is the law of love

no power so great to make the world spin

we know not what temptation we’re in

life and liberty are all we can show

and where it stops, who’s to know

such silly rhymes, perhaps, you think

that in the timeless realm you sink

evading, eroding, in desperate measure

digging, we search for sunken treasure

the message won’t pop before your eyes

it’s floating somewhere in thinnest skies

where blue is gone, the dark of outer space

begins to change it all to dark gray lace

For Veterans

the wars, the scores all numbered and dated

from the carnage to the heroes

do you suppose it’s all fated?

the soldiers, the sailors, they all do their parts

while we, at home, complain about our lives

not so often holding freedom fighters in our hearts

but today is for the veterans, regardless of their roles

many are homeless, hungry, lost no matter how he strives

and we must shoulder his security regardless of cost

to pay for battered lives, torn limbs, shattered minds

the things that happen to our sisters and brothers whose goals

are to be what they can be: leaders, protectors, healers,

not knowing what awaits them as they become targets

but all of them are heroes, all should be uplifted

given our honor and gratitude, a life worth living

when their job is done and the bells of freedom ring

Family Farm

forever blue the skies smile down

on the treasured place where love resides

the fog lifts from the pond so chill

and ducks and geese float where they will

the flowered trees in pink and white

make a whimsical sight in spring

the tire swing hangs where it always did

for the flock of children to play and climb

what better service to the ancestral home

where love abounds and love resides

a warm wood stove keeps cozy below

the family portraits watch from the wall

a row of kittens dot the upper landing

a tank of angelfish and betas ripples and bubbles

and children’s tales report on the ipod

such, the activity the day the snow began

in the Strickler house beneath the ceiling fan

Cycles

the cycles of the wheel go ‘round this day

one who has run against a wall is free

blessings abound now as the arrow flies

grand eminence to have happiness reign

a tower has been built, the ladder rises

no cataclysm can ever tear it down

the priestly class to the world gave a gift

all wishes summed up to smile

because breaking through the chains

has returned greatness to greatness

and alarms are now quieted, silenced,

the diamond like a lotus opens its petals

and tomorrow comes washing o’er the wall

Deep

down, it feels, through the earth’s crust,

through the water so cold, so dark

at first it seems I am fighting to breathe

pushing so hard against the grit of walls

then I break free and the water is blue,

so blue as the sky on a sunny day

and the warmth of the center comes

I see orange, then red, then yellow

and it gets hotter and hotter, blue, then white

and suddenly, the lotus, with tinges of pink

and a rainbow of color appears before me

so beautiful, so open, and I pass through

into a new level of amazement

where a sea of eyes looks upon me

and I at them and I realize I am not alone

Spiral

deep spiral into the nothing

swirling lights of thought, desire,

becomes intention delving deeper

into reality sparkling new beginnings

awards, awareness, echoing to the surface

bright birth of enchantment in shadow

no longer hiding, no longer frightened,

thrusting upward like the Ace of Swords

new strength and power rising, shining,

glinting with the sunrise evermore

and sharing its explosive radiance

with the world, healing, holding tight,

breathing freely and washing back down

like the climactic wave gone back out to sea