The Nail

The Nail

Life is a nail...
A rusty vein of reality
With more character than the word victory
Bent and browning like an old soldier
Guarding a wall for our hats.
As a shiny silver spike,
It has driven home the carpenter's dream.
Had the good sense to ask the savior for a hand,
When no one would hold the hammer.
The artists pictures hang thankful,
Like childhood's treefort is grateful.
For the nails still cling to the timber,
Buried like an answer.






2015 - 17 Draught                                                                                                      August 14, 2015
Copper Moon

The sun appeared without morning
Like a scentless rose no longer thorning
In a pale sky - iron clouds rusting
The copper moon (un-new)

Pennies from heaven rain supreme
Filling the rivers and acid washed streams
Like jealous lover waxing green
The copper moon (untrue)

Sunbathers cancered brown
Dusty farms - no harvesting sound
The trail too faint for even the hound
Howling at the copper moon.


An Old Man.                                                                                                            March, 2011.


His face looked like an old cedar fence
Discolored and weather worn
Staring out at the yard
Knotted eyes
Season cracked skin.
Sitting perfectly still,
He seemed unmoved
By the glancing...
Dust and last month's leafing
Along the poorly travelled
Brown dirt path
Turning to meet
His ungreased hinges.


The Scarlet Ribbon. (12th Street Revisited)                                                          12-22-2013.

The thief waits for a willing purse
He smiles at each pocket walking by
Standing at his post - under a street lamp
He sings this song with a sigh.
"My daughter's ribbon is scarlet red
Her hair is like the coal.
Long curls fall from her pretty head
As she walks, they sway to and fro."
The thief stalks a drunken sailors path
Catlike paws on an ashphalt street
From alley come whispers - the shadows cast
The words of his slow chanty beat.
"My daughter's ribbon is scarlett red.
In a bow it rests like a crown.
Will be a Prince my daughter to wed,
This night in London town."
The thief carries home a candle light.
He smiles as he unlocks the door.
From inside his room comes a flickering sight
Of a small figure huddled on the floor.
"My daughter's ribbon is scarlet red
As smooth as a feather to touch.
I'll place it by the pillow on my bed
A thief can never steal too much.
So dreams the thief of freedom's well
Where coins spring out like the rain.
Power grins from his cheek like a silver bell
Ringing out the same sad refrain.
"My daughter's ribbon is scarlet red.
Only one holds her sacred trust.
Each morning the ribbon woven into her hair.
A thief can never hide too much."

Murphy's Point (Murphy’s Law Revisited)

                                           

Seems the world has a duty to change

And us the adoms* of worldly chance

Must bounce and dodge eternal...

Aware of little beyond the chaotic dance.

Helpless in few ways but the important needs of the land

Wisdom is the dust on the valley road

Settling unnoticed (again)

Sweet surrender are you somewhere near

Or do we believe in a spinning wheel?

Sprinkling dust on everyone

But not enough for one man to feel!

Let's turn off at Murphy's Point

We can wash the road from our hands

Wisdom rides a wave on a windy beach

There to live and die on the sand.

Didn't I first see you in a field of wheat…

There stood nothing but miles of gold,

And the piper called the acres to sway

To a summer song so ancient and slow.

Wasn't it you staring at the harvest sun

As you fell down on your knees?

Wisdom is a tree standing tall in the wind

And whispers, "Tomorrow is a shiny ax blade

The blacksmith sharpens under the red shades of autumn (leaves)

I spot you from a distant hill

Reflections on a river (I've watched you flow)

I've seen you settle in the evening still...

Waving rainbows to say, " it’s time to go."

For rainbow waves roll in faraway places

Mountains must surely see them all.

Wisdom is a fog that drifts off Murphy's Point

In the silver mist a ships' anchor falls.

Lars Hansen(c.1983)

*Adoms... The invented word is a collision of sorts. Atom's adam and vice versa has a lame intension, for the most part. 

Colleen Magerrell.

Come closer little candle light.
Oval jewel with your wagging tail.
Linger in the spot light silver n white
Like two spirits weaving (in a sail).
Evening finds you boasting proudly,
Every moving shadow knows your name.
Nightly stars remind the heavens,
"Make room for the new found flickering flame.!"
All around you, the darkness (like the sea)
Glowing wick let your pearling tears fall.
Evening's secret is safe tonight
Roll on waves of sunset tranquility
Rise from your whilting ivory tower and fly
Elfish dancer can you come out and play?
Like stealing a wink from your golden blue eyes.
Let us warm beneath the hiss of your whispering mane.

Lars Hansen (c.1995)