Stars from a peaceful, darkened sky

Iowa grows so much without trying.

Look beyond the fields green with life

Dusty brown with harvest

Black with Spring’s potential.

Look within the silos that mark

The efforts and tears of families

And you will find seeds of hope

That promise another year of home.

Friendships in Iowa grow fast and strong.

Small towns know this by heart.

The seeds of laughter and comfort as children

Stay with you long after you leave.

The rhythm of cicadas that is

The heartbeat of an August night.

Lightening Bugs that remind you of

Stars from a peaceful, darkened sky.

When the winds of change blow some

Of us to other places that still think Iowa is

About Potatoes, we politely correct them,

And speak proudly of our land, again.

_____________________________________

orn b.

Fire Would

When I think of all the passions within us.

Emotions locked inside collective humanity,

It’s like firewood stacked high by the cord.

Unsure of its natural use.

We block doors open with the small pieces.

Tripping as we enter rooms dark and scary.

Hoping to catch the hallway light to our beds.

As if to chase away the ghosts of our mistakes.

We sometimes hit each other (in unfathomable rage)

With the ones that are shaped like bats.

Cursing the splinters in our palms

When the conflicts we start, at last, end.

If left too long unattended,

Termites and spiders take nest in the pile,

And we never use those pieces again,

Fearing we might get bit by neglect and decay.

Yet, when it is so cold in our world that we can see our breath,

(But can no longer reach for each other),

We still remember how to stay warm.

What it takes to survive the bitter nights alone.

We stare into the flames that come from us and to us,

While pondering on what will keep us human.

What will slay our hatreds, and return us to Eden?

Fire would.

________________________________________ 

orn b.

28 June 2018

A Silent Thanks

 An eagle named Eddie

And a turkey called Tom

Called each other brother,

“just from another mom”.

They laughed and played as children do

Each day and every night.

Tom grew big and ruled the ground,

Eddie, was king of flight.

They knew the worth of freedom,

The cost that kept it true.

They shared ideas of what it meant

And of what they had to do.

Tom said, “Freedom should never starve,

And I have all this meat.”

“I will give my life for this,

So all free men can eat.”

Eddie said, “My sight is sharp.”

My beak and talons strong.

I can soar above the land,

Protecting it from wrong.

Eddie and Tom then said goodbye.

Tom’s life was soon to end.

His sacrifice, his bond, his word

Was all that he could send.

Eddie symbolized strength and hope.

Our freedoms he’ll defend.

But he always gives a silent thanks

To Tom, his steadfast friend.

_______________________________________

Sacrifice, when freely given for the good of the many,

Shall always be held as the most courageous

In the ledgers of Heaven.

orn b.

27 June 2018

Gardening Thoughts

Is there a human being among us

That has not harvested some fresh toe fungus?

I think of how my feet might look

If I scrub them clean (all crack and nook).

I could be proud of my sparkling toes,

Except for the corns that grow in rows.

I pray my foot-shame soon will pass,

And hide them in the soft crabgrass.

The grass is cool, and doesn’t judge

My nails that look like rancid fudge.

I’ll stop for now, I get the hint…

Don’t start me on my belly-lint.

_____________________________________

orn b.

26 June 2018

I Speak for my Dog

I speak for my dog.

His voice has a loopy, uneducated sound.

It amuses me to think he would talk like this.

His comments on life limited to food and walks,

If he just could form the words.

When I take a moment to really see him,

His eyes appear sharp and wise,

Sympathetic to my plight:

I’m just a “two-legger”.

He probably has a clipped, British accent:

 “A chew bone, please. Do make it fun”.

“There’s a good lad”, he states with his tail

As I fetch him another chew.

If only I could be him.

His howl beckons others

To echo his call.

His trust in me is complete.

He knows no war

Nor the endless, savage drive

To be better than another

For the sake of promotion or ego.

He finds that getting belly-rubs is

The best way to relax humans

As we don’t seem to know any better.

I hug him sometimes

Because I don’t know what else to do.

I lose sight of important things

And feel small.

Trapped in a kennel of my own design.

 “What’s all this, now?”

He asks by putting his head on my lap,

“It’s going to be alright. Now there’s a good lad”.

Muscle Car

My car and I have much

In common.

We are older models,

No frills, American made.

Muscle all the way.

Going slow when days

Are grey with ice,

Threatening snow.

The reservoir for windshield fluid

Is empty in my car.

A leak somewhere underneath

Dries it out when I need it most.

I refill it (now and then)

Vowing each time to get it fixed.

The place where my tears

Waited for release is empty, too.

My eyes remain cynical and dry

With the dirt and grime that comes

From the pain I see in front of me

And that I leave in the past.

I’ll fix it (me) next time.

Later.

After I need it most.

A Valentine's Day Poem for 2018

A New Rhythm

I thought to myself

I have not danced in a while.

Then spun in ballet’s discipline.

The world became a blur,

And I lost my balance.

Dancing in front of the mirror

Brought self-doubt: That I was

Just an aging man

(wondering in embarrassment),

When and where youth had hidden itself.

I thought to myself

I have not danced in a while.

No matter what music played,

My feet no longer laughed.

I was looking for the exits, and leaving alone.

Then you walked into the room of my life,

And my heart skipped to a new rhythm.

My soul kept step with my eyes as they

Were held in the embrace of your smile.

Holding you, every song became my favorite.

With you, my whole being dances

In combinations of old and new feelings.

(Finally) belonging to another who knows the same steps.

We glide into feelings neither of us knew could be ours.

With you, the band never stops playing.

I am tired of thinking to myself.

Let’s dance.