Walk in the Woods
Abstract: What It’s Like To Go To The Gym
A poem, about the battle in my head when I go to the gym. (Not always.)
It’s easier and more comforting to give-in,
it’s the habit you know best.
Just sit dow, pull out your phone, and stare at it.
That’s what your brain wants and your poor tired heart wants.
Isn’t it hard and embarrassing to fall,
to watch your face become more round instead of less?
You have a safe place on that couch, you know?
No dismissive glances or knowing smirks.
Think of the gas you use to go to the gym,
hardly seems worth the effort.
Oh, you’re gonna do this, eh?
Your shoes are dirty,
clean them first.
No? Why not?
Ack, it’s too bright outside to workout.
Just go back insi—
Look at all the cars here, that’s too many.
…the front door staff thinks you’re a fatass.
Everyone else is going faster than you including that old lady.
Look! That stupid boomer is complaining about Joe Biden on the TV.
What a joke. Are you really going to be part of a gym with people like him?
Don’t look at the pretty girls. DON’T EVEN LOOK.
STARE AT THE CEILING YOU CREEP.
(Wouldn’t it be easier to stay home.)
Just…don’t…
Free weights?!
What the fu—
Abstract: The Middle of the Trip
A poem, about roads trips and endurance.
As a child, my family took long road trips to western Pennsylvania every summer.
We’d visit grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.
The drive began early in the morning, before the sun was bright.
And from our neighborhood we eventually found the highway north,
It led us into North Carolina, past the sparkling skyscrapers of the Queen City,
And up the southern slopes of the Appalachian Mountains.
The first part of the trip was full of excitement and plenty of interesting distractions.
But as the morning began to fade, the excitement died.
The sun worked across the sky above as we turned onto route 19,
churning through the endless green mountains of West Virginia,
with more driving still ahead than behind.
For my part, I’d encouraged my poor mother,”we’re lost, we need dad.”
We were not lost.
I was lost, because I hated the waiting and the confines of the car.
As an adult, I grew to love those old mountains and appreciate their beauty.
And what a gift it was- to sit in the back of our silver station wagon and look out on such majesty.
What I wouldn’t give to be driven across America with people I love.
The journey is half the trip.
I’m still learning to enjoy it,
especially the middle part,
when the excitement of the start is gone,
and the finish seems five hundred miles away.
Abstract: Newton’s Laws
A poem, about the physics and the connection to the heart of the God.
Isaac was brilliant and his logic is applicable to us.
In human terms, his first law of motion is:
A person in motion will continue in motion unless acted on by outside forces,
or inside forces.
It’s a truth each of knows without question.
Be it a hidden torment, or an attack from beyond our walls,
each of one must fight through the armies created to destroy us-
our potential, our love, and contributions to life.
Or die.
And, if we remain in or return to the state of our happy youth,
to that of children, we will believe in magic and miracles,
and feel the string attached from His hand to ours,
as He pulls us toward Himself-
past the hoards and legions,
and over the traps we set for ourselves.
Better said, and to correct the obvious but forgivable mistake of Mr. Newton: a person in motion will stay in motion, regardless of opposing forces, when their heart is tied to His.
Abstract: Intention
A poem, about the power of intention and our choices.
What is it to choose?
Our clothes for the day’s work,
Our food at breakfast- yes to eggs, but no a banana,
or the people we will text and to what end.
Regardless of our rationale or excuses,
our choices, our intention, reveals something about us.
It is not the whole picture, mainly because the multitude of humanity chooses what they must do,
rather than choose to be who they are and what they are.
I consider myself blessed,
By God and His hand,
though poor by most standards and unwed by every measure,
I decide who I am, without the normal excuses afforded to my piers in middle age.
I can feel their laden eyes burn through the back of my soul,
“Just you wait,” they scoff.
“Wait for marriage and kids and bills.”
I can only smile back.
They are correct, if I choose to live my life they way they do,
I will come to the same dead-end of living a life of “what I should do.”
I will look tired and cast my frustration on the “system” or some anonymous collective of bastards “out to get me.”
Or…I will decided to live and be a man of purpose and destiny,
an example to my children, of a man not pissed at what I must do,
but grateful and determined to follow the Lord’s lead,
with great joy and waves of laughter.
Abstract: The Choice
A poem, about the choice in front of all believers.
Some pretend the fight doesn’t exist,
Even more do not have the courage to peer over the wall or throw themselves into the fray.
Still, the largest number has the faith to believe in the fight, the courage to stand on the rampart, but this is where the stay, riveted to the board.
They remain frozen by the reality of the battle. It is violent and the field is littered with blood and cries of the wounded.
But the heroes, look beyond their fear and weakness, over the wall, to the sunlight on the other side of the war…to green hills and clear water.
The true and infinite promises of God.
No fear or accusation, no loss or disappointment will keeps these from the Kingdom.
Abstract: Withdrawal
A poem, addressing the withdrawal and my need for it.
Do I hide from people, or am I discreet,
unwilling to plaster myself high on the wall,
and loudly proclaim my talents to the room?
Given the facts my laugh is loud and my body round,
I do not hide from anyone.
Do I withdraw? Yes.
What’s the difference? Well…
One is ashamed and the other is self-care.
Adam hid. Jesus withdrew…often.
And, in my aim to be like the Lord,
I too withdraw, to find the ground,
strengthen my spirit in His,
and return to the fight,
every bit myself,
in the all the glory He has for me.
Abstract: Matthew 16:16
A poem, in response to Peter’s answer to the only question that matters.
At some point, the words on the page must rise from their home.
The Word must become more than words,
The verses and quotes no longer flat or dry.
For great as the words are, our Father alone satisfies our hunger and makes the heart drunk with hope.
We can never know the Christ in two dimensions only,
But it every way possible.
This is our great opportunity,
To dive into His depths and discover this Messiah,
The God of love and glory.
Then, let us be as Peter: Sit. Listen. And know He is good.
Abstract: Damn These Boxes
A poem, after I spent a morning surfing the internet.
Aimlessly surfing,
from one page to another,
all the same stories and faces,
little hope and no love to be found.
War, injustices, and everyone is pissed off.
Time to unplug, to sit and listen,
for the voice of Hope, the one made of Love.
Damn these boxes.
Abstract: He Remains
A poem, about how pain and fear keep us from Love.
In the shadows sat the chocolate colored dog,
and it shivered as if cold and alone.
Though the door was unlocked and open wide,
he remained chained to the comfort of the furthest dark corner.
Fed and warm, this animal suffered from pain not obvious or impending.
His new master waited with an open hand,
and whispered words of love and affection.
Tail tucked between his skinny back legs,
the canine whimpered, unbelieving and scared.
The master remained.
Though the hurting animal punished his new master for the sins of the old,
He remained.
The new is not like the old,
He remains.
Abstract: Just A Man
A poem, about losing my heroes with none to replace the void.
I cried when Prince died,
and sobbed when I saw the gut-wrenching news about Tony.
And when General Powell passed on, I hung my head.
Nearly all my heroes are dead.
Maybe I’m too old or too proud to prop any man up,
higher than a man should be,
but only a few remain,
those who hold my wonder and stir excitement in my veins.
Today, I sat feet away from a man they call Poppa Bill,
and listened as he answered earnest questions from earnest hearts,
but his presence did not stir any of my own.
He’s just a man, as any other.
Abstract: River
A poem, about me as a river.
I am a River,
Breaking and diving,
always churning through the rocks and weeds and dry places.
My twists and turns like eternal scars,
a record of where I’ve been.
I am a full of life.
What I hide beneath the surface is meant for those willing to pull up a chair, cast a line,
and suffer patience.
As with all great things,
I am worth the wait.
He’s my source, my forever spring,
or else I will run dry,
self-loathing and desperate,
with anger for everyone, but especially me.
I am a force,
graced with power and purpose,
that no man may define.
For I remain un-damned,
my energy yet untamed behind man made walls,
focused to their end.
I am a River.
I am me,
A force and history of what Faith can be.
Abstract: Too Wise To Say No
A poem, about falling into the wisdom and patterns of life, of ignoring what the Lord gave us and we once believed.
He breathed into us,
a little gift of Himself,
forever locked deep in the ventricles of each and every person.
Through corruption and invention,
wars and wisdom,
It’s still there.
Buried under our fears and experience.
We can’t kill it, because we can’t harm what is His.
We can ignore and relegate that token,
beneath our responsibilities and layers of maturity,
listening to all the voices designed to shape us into nothing,
letting go of the child He always is.
Yes, we choose slow paths to deaths door,
Enslaved to the seasons and demands.
Take heart, or rather,
grab your chest and feel the rhythm still at work in your veins.
Our Father’s goodness remains.
What He gives, He never steals back,
And all that was once good, can be made good again.
You are not too old,
too broken,
too stupid or ugly,
Not too poor, uneducated,
or unsophisticated.
There is no sin of your past,
no guilt unsaid,
That keeps us from Him and the gifts He gave us,
back in the beginning,
before we were too wise to say no.