Laughter, In the Distance...........
.
......1 of 21 musings by Deborah K. Walker
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
Laughter.....
My eyes are closed
and my heart hears the sounds I wish to see.
"All-ee... all-ee.... in…free........."
The rush of running steps,
rustling the leaves
and the swoop of hands
against the tree.
and the counting begins again.
This time I am "It".
100..99...98.......
You run and hide.
More of your thoughts become your own,
More of your deeds away from home.
I wait, and watch you grow.
I count
until you sneak behind a bush that is close by,
wanting to be found.
Each passing year it takes....
longer........
for you to return.
You find the joys of life,
and remarkable tides that turn.
How did you grow so fast,
and get to be on your own?
"All-ee…All-ee… in… free!"
I open my eyes
and wonder where you are....
I look and search,
but you are hidden in a time long ago.
"All-ee…All-ee…in… free" I call,
.....but no one comes.
So I close my eyes
and feel the breath of the wind upon my face
....and hear the laughter,
.......in the distance.
by D.K.Walker
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
Make It So......
(composed for a high school graduation; each graduate receiving a mylar balloon)
This balloon for you alone, is like a ship ashore;
"Boats are safest in the harbor, but that’s not what boats are for."
Ships are made for sailing; adventures unforeseen.
Some gentle drifting, and some storms, to be where you’ve not been.
To search the sea for answers; to know the vast unknown,
To conquer fear, to understand the ecstasy to go…
When whitecaps fill horizons, vessels to and fro are thrown.
The more the ropes become entangled — the harder to leave home.
But ships are made for witnessing the awesome tides that sweep
Steering leeward with the wind, stirring souls as well as sleep.
Some warm, clear night, when stars are out, this ship must take its wing;
Tied to its tail your future hopes and dreams and other things.
Tie to the string Aladin’s touch - three wishes for yourself,
And one to make the world a better place for someone else.
Add to that, three things you’ve done to complement your growth;
And two more things that no one thinks you’ll do except yourself.
Think then of one regret, for which you wish you could change the past.
Tie it firmly to the string... you will let it go at last.
Two anguished times in which you came out stronger for the fight;
One challenge that you still must face, now that your attitude is right.
As it drifts above the heavens with your hopes and dreams aboard;
Venturing to the vast unknown, no longer earthly moored,
Remember that when things look bleak, from all the way down hear,
Your spirit rides an awesome path; your dreams are safe up there.
Up there, it rides the universe, to witness sights that no one’s seen;
To conquer fear, to grow in love; it’s up to you do to the same.
And if you should lose sight of it- become entangled in some port;
Remember that your spirit rides the universe at dark.
And if you ever see your ship returning from the sky,
Your job’s to send it back again—and send it even higher.
To keep it high and buoyant, requires letting go;
My thoughts and prayers will keep it up…
now, as Piquard says,
"Make It So!"
by D.K.Walker
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
Ripples
(our actions, however small, effect the world)
I sit and watch the ripples lap softly at my shore
and wonder where they started from….
Did some giant bolder swoop down from the skies
and yell a might roar,
as it fell into the sea…….
creating waves of great proportions,
pushing outward
to create the next,
infinitesimally smaller…… and smaller still,
…………………all across the ocean?
Until one day the tiniest of ripples
undulates unto my shore,
my space,
my cove;
Stretching itself for one last time,
one last yawn
before sleeping on my sands.
Was this the last expression of a giant beginning,
a giant push,
a giant grandiose plan for everyone to see….
Something so big and powerful,
it is seen and felt all across the world?
OR……
Did a little bitty creature,
too small to be seen in the tall reeds by me—
too quiet to be heard by my human ears….
Did he softly step his tiny toes into this quiet lake,
Easing his body under the water
for a gentle ride on a water leaf?
And his small, unnoticed effort,
created the ripple I now see?
Both would have touched this shore…….
Both to move me
to consider things
I have not pondered before…..
Both to touch my life.
So, I stretched out by finger
and created a ripple of my own
to touch the life of one I’d never see
knowing now,
that even the tiniest of efforts
creates connection.
by D.K.Walker
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
The Power of Silence
Early morning has such energy and newness and hope.
The quietness perceived as gentility, powerfully ushers in the elements of newness
The dramatic dawning then
and spirit of day’s beginnings---
Until the close of day
when the hushed silence of stars reminds us
of thousands of new beginnings
all with such energy,
all to come.
The powerful silence of evening’s end--
--the powerful quietness of dawn’s beginnings……
by D.K.Walker
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
A Single Song
The rays of first sunlight----
Shouldn’t there be a deafening, thunderous approach
to this quite electric event?
At the very least, a spectacular combination
of hums or buzzes or choruses…….
Who designed this ignominious opening
to such an auspicious occasion?……
the breaking of a new day,
a new dawn,
a new beginning?
A single robin breaks the eerie silence with its lovely song,
and it occurs to me, that perhaps
this lonely sentinel has been specifically chosen-
...a unique and special designation.......
to announce the alpha and omega
of yet another opportunity for love and growth.
Never
will I underestimate the power of a single voice,
a single song,
a single soul,
……again.
by D.K.Walker
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
Not So Fast!
(Ever think about that poor pig farmer that lost his herd,
when Jesus cast the demons out? No? well, here's your chance.....)
"Not so fast", said a certain pig farmer.
"Just let me stop you right there;
Let’s go back over those pig facts again
And then tell me if you think this seems fair…."
There’s this crazy old man that sits on his head
By one of the caves on my land;
Everyone laughs at the way he reacts,
But no one has helped him, or lends him a hand.
I let him stay there; it don’t cost me a thing
The neighbors are grateful, at least.
They don’t want him coming ‘round their neighborhoods,
Besides, I use him for scaring the beasts.
So, I go out to tend, to my pen full of pigs
They seem to be all right to me,
Then, one minute I’ve got a herd full of pork,
And the next minute it seems I’m ‘pork-free’.
Over the cliff, these porkers parade,
Running full throttle—full tilt!
No looking back, or fearful goodby’s
Like lemmings……just more ‘bacon-built’.
Over the edge, like tablets in drink
Plop-plop….., plop-plop……,plop-fizzzzz…..
I couldn’t believe how bewildered they looked
Like they were possessed, or diseased.
When I turned around, then, to my surprise
This man who was bent out of shape,
Was focused, and talking, and seemed whole again.
The crazy man claimed he felt great!
So all my pigs died, to save this one man
From wild and lunatic ravings?
Of course, I pitied the way he was
But ya know, I too, have cravings.
Well, pigs is pigs. It’s what I do!
I need that money, it’s all mine to keep.
How dare this Jesus use my whole herd
To help this guy have a better night’s sleep.
It’s not my fault that he was like that
It’s not my concern (Then who’s is it?)
Lord? Surely, there’s others who tend to this stuff
Surely, there’s others who visit.
That which you have….. is it really yours?
Or given, for your distribution?
How many pigs would you give for your soul
Or, so you could come into heaven?
"Oh no!" the man said, Lord, take all my pigs!
I’ll even go get some more!
Don’t turn me away because of a lack
Of pigfeet at heaven’s door!
I’ll trade ALL my pigs for my soul to survive
Take all that I have in my life
Take my pigs, and my money; my land and my sons;
Oh, yeah, Lord and please take my wife.
So you’d give your whole lot for your own entrance in
But not even one, for your brother.
How can you hope to gain entrance to here
When you can’t even love one another.
It doesn’t take pigs, or your money, or such
I don’t trade for whatever you offer.
This Jesus you met, will pay for your way
You need only accept Him as Savior.
Follow Him, and his teachings, and learn from His ways
And you’ll learn the true reason to live.
I will know that you’ve listened, and prepared for this place
By the amount that you’ve chosen to give.
But the man continued to keep what he earned
It was so hard to give it for free.
And then he discovered there’s money in figs
And invested in one special tree.
And one day this Jesus was hungry, and saw
There was no fig-fruit on this vine;
He cursed it, it withered, and it never bore fruit.
I wonder if the farmer
was older and wiser
and understood better this time………
by D.K.Walker
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
Woman in the Moon
The stillness of the evening air
a soft glow from the moon;
My husband’s off to Germany, but he will be home soon.
It seems so large, and round and bright,
Just hanging in the black;
One wonders how the heck she learned, to poise herself like that.
The distant stars, although like suns,
Are not as bright as she;
Reflecting brightly from the warmth which sol gives relentlessly.
I think she rides the evening sky,
Showing off her partner’s passion;
Her light revealing his light’s love; reflecting in her fashion.
Anyone who looks at her
Witness her love keeps her bright.
Without it, she would b unknown; concealed amidst the night.
And when they look upon my face,
They see the same bright glow;
And if they should ask what it reflects……
I’ll tell them it’s your love.
by D.K.Walker
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
Signature Effect
The final chapter, a few more pages
Can’t wait to see how it ends.
The drama’s been building a lifetime
Through plots both thick and thin.
Protagonists and antagonists
each with his own endorsements,
Scenery changes, the plot rearranges,
An epoch of grand proportions.
Some stories end with drama,
Some end with a twist of fate;
Some go soft and gentle,
Some you grow to hate.
I tell my students never to write
"The end" at the end of their plots.
As it’s always pretty obvious…..
It’s whenever the writing stops.
But I think it’s better now, to write
"The End" with such a flair
That no one, ever, will forget
That it was you, who put it there.
THE END
by D.K.Walker
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
I Know It’s There
There is a fog that hides this tree, that I know is there.
Just because I cannot see, I don’t believe it’s disappeared.
There is a good within us all, and when deeds block that out
It doesn’t mean that it’s not there, just waiting to come out.
The fog lifts ever gradually, one droplet at a time.
The truth reveals its leafy self, within the scope of time.
We cannot change the stuff of fog, to make the tree show faster.
We cannot change the heart itself; it changes from the Master.
by D.K.Walker
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
Finders, 
Keepers
The value of a singe note, is clear, when silence is decreed.
Hard to value single notes in strains of symphonies.
What treasure then, is he who finds the value in a soul
Among the many thousands who are singing all those notes.
A single bird, a single leaf, an individual seed,
One morning’s sun, one evening’s sounds, strong and yet serene.
A smile…….. a greeting……..laughter,……..tears; one moment caught in time.
It’s not the moments hard to reach, it’s the catching that’s sublime.
by D.K.Walker
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
Holding On To Shadows
Shadows on the ground keep pace with time,
which no one stops.
Knowing that the life we live, lives on—
We catch a sparkle here and there, as the spirit glistens
in delight at being shined upon.
Why is it that we seldom notice change,
until too late to act upon its resolution?
Dramatic change is a blessing in disguise
because at least you know it’s there…
…and we cannot hide the grief,
but mourn its passing.
by D.K.Walker
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
TUNNEL VISION
I try to press the memories, stored within,
But nothing comes.
The foreboding cloud resides, reminding me
that this will be the last—
the final time to look into his eyes…
to watch a smile skirt the thin lips…
to talk of politics, philosophies and such…
to speak quickly of death and all it brings,
and lightly turn to other things.
Getting things in order, making calls;
Trying not to be too busy to notice
his icy stare which tries to see his fate
relaxing in his thought that his time has almost come.
Each must pass into the next world on his own..
but it will be nice to know
that I can walk him to the station..
A low whistle sound in the distance
and I wonder if his time has come.
He would laugh and wonder
if the light was the end of the tunnel,
or the glare of the train approaching fast.
I hope he gets his window seat……………….
by D.K.Walker
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
One and two and...
Why can’t I be consistent?
every day to exercise..
Work, then play, then slave away
on a designated enterprise.
Each and every day the same
a small part done each time.
Just think of all that I could do
on a continuous timeline!
But mine, in bursts of energy,
sudden flames engulf and seize;
Mine not burdened with the clock
the tides or gentle breeze.
It comes and goes, I know not when
and passion in the yearning.
And passion, too, when in the fire,
ablaze and red-hot burning.
Why can’t I be consistent
a little every day…..
Might as well request the tides
to
only
move
one
way………
by
D.
K.
Walk
er
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
THE GREATEST GIFT
(My father died of lung cancer several years ago.
Some things are worth remembering...)
His walk unsteady, hesitant
I really want to help
but silently I sit and wait…………..
Until he asks
You really shouldn’t carry
that cup of coffee
while walking with the metal bars.
The drops are spilled
and quietly I clean them up.
Cigarettes are plentiful
and the coughing must be tough.
The phlegm gets stuck, the blood jars loose
the butts and ashes quickly swept away.
I wash my hair and hold my breath
…..as lazy circles fill the air
…………to disappear and yet remain.
To sleep or not to sleep…..
The thud from where he rests,
as getting up a hundred times
the bathroom light goes on.
I go out quickly anyway to hear
the uneasy voice say I’m ok.
My suggestions faintly settle
each, caressing gently good ideas
that will eventually take root,
but at his direction, his dictates.
What seems so logical and expedient to me,
must be cut out
and served in smaller doses,
and slower time.
A community of services,
and he takes a few.
Medication to relieve the pain,
and he chooses to ignore…
to be alert and fighting,
rather than abler and painfree.
To be allowed to give this life
the final touch……..
His signature
on a masterpiece of work and love;
questions and discovery;
To do things his way until the end,
Is the greatest gift I have to give…….
In loving memory....
Deb
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
NOTHING’S CHANGED
When my dad was close to death, I watched to be inspired—
The moment when his life was gone, the moment he expired.
I expected something awesome, not really knowing what.
Just something to be different; something leaving me awestruck.
But nothing seemed to happen; he stopped breathing and he died.
The seconds ticked upon the clock; warm sun still shone outside;
I didn’t feel his spirit, the room was just the same;
They dressed the body, wheeled it out, the emptiness—it came.
Something should have happened—not dramatic ghosts or howls,
But the fading of his life should have been recorded there somehow.
I was angry that his soul had left, without a fond farewell;
I should have sensed his presence leave; at least I’d know all’s well.
Nothing changed within the room, the day went on as if
Nothing had really happened there- nothing was amiss.
Course, if he could have planned the thing, it’s exactly how he’d go;
Get me out and on my way; I’ve got lots to see and do……
And I guess the fact that life goes on, should not be a surprise;
The only time that time will stop, is in each other’s eyes.
The only thing that changed that day was the emptiness that fell.
One part of heaven left us to a tiny part of hell.
Something has to change when such a person leaves this earth’
All of his work, efforts and dreams; accomplishments from birth;
I do, however, notice that I develop my ideas more.
I push drawers in, when they are out; which never bothered me before….
I’m more patient with restaurant smokers; I’ve begun to paint again,
I’m even writing poetry, as if my emotions found a friend.
Nothing changed upon his death, except he isn’t there to see.
I wonder where his spirit went, cause nothing changed....’cept me.
by D.K.Walker
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
Tones of Gray
Yellow spider,
Silver web
……..dotted spots of clear.
What if all the colors left-------
and just black and white were there?
I wonder if the tones of gray
We would treasure even more,
or if we would lose interest
in what the colors bore……
D.K.Walker
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
Bon Voyage…..
My little girl is in a brace, and so far away…
I want her here, to be with me; it’s so hard to be away.
She cannot walk until she sees some orthopedic surgeon,
I want her to come home for this, and have begun the urgin’
I know that she is 19; I know she’s on her own.
I know she can take care of herself; I know I want her home.
She’s back taking college courses now; and that’s where she’ll be buried
‘Cause I’m gonna hafta kill her, for making me so worried…..
D.K.Walker
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
Bye Bye Birdie
There’s birdseed on the table, and as I sit and muse,
I notice the eraser on my pencil is chewed through.
The wooden shelves above my head have several dips and peaks,
the same is true of wallpaper, above the shower leaks.
Sugar, still left standing where the packet was torn up,
A bright and shiny penny at the bottom of my cup
All the times I told that bird to stop, or go away.
I sure wish I had the door closed--—my birdie flew away.
Pecking at my necklace, couldn’t wear my watch or rings,
Nor a pair of earrings, they became her new playthings.
Always on my shoulder, hiding in my hair.
It’s seeming strangely quiet, not having her perched there.
Wanting her neck ruffled, to get at that last itch,
And then a final ouchful bite… what a birdie bitch!
Walking on the floor, to spy things that looked like food.
Telling her to watch the dog, not doing any good.
Flying where not wanted, landing was the same.
Chasing her around the house---what a silly game.
Couldn’t really pet it; wouldn’t listen when I talked.
And every time I bathed it, she’d hesitate and balk.
She left me on a cold, and snowy bitter, icy day.
Probably didn’t not last long---wasn’t made that way.
And yet I still look upward, to the very tippy-top,
Sometimes I pretend to see her, and quietly scold "Hey, Doc!"
D.K.Walker
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
The Chosen One
A billion birds descended upon one tree.
somehow designated this year
by the "great starling of the skies."
Thousands flocked to its limbs
creating a loud and raucous,
even nasty flavor.
What makes this tree their target this year?
Is it taller…… broader…… leafier?
Or was it just in the way;
or on the way
to one of life’s more interesting journeys?
D.K.Walker
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
Lord, Send Me Angels
Lord, please send me angels:
One for each bumper of my daughter’s car
And one in the fuel tank….. maybe four on the floor.
Station one at her front door, and one at the back
With really big swords to discourage attack.
One to stand by her to whisper the way
And help her to learn from mistakes she might make.
Several with wings to sweep wind in her ear,
Each time she’s discouraged and needs someone to hear.
And if you have any of your angels left over……
Wouldn’t hurt to stick one more on that bumper.
|
The
D
a
n
ce....
|
Carefully,
Carefully,
The ride down isn’t as important,
as its carriage; its demeanor,
and the apparent form of the drift.
And you only get one shot.
One chance for the delicate details of the fall ‘fall’ to come together
for all to witness the meticulously orchestrated glide from grace.
It’s no wonder the leaves hold on for so long!
So little time to prepare!
As soon as the buds form, the silent buzz is in the air
and the push is on
to emerge and grow……
The winter freeze,
thawed by the warming sap, which frees the mind-tree, and
energizes the overall design
drafted in detail through the winter months.
The color patterns and intricate veins from ages past
woven into more modern visions
of true color release.
So much to learn and coordinate!
Nowhere on earth, have life forms developed
a more powerful intuition and composition of color and movement.
Vein patterns, color comparisons,
and a melding of just the right layers of red and orange and yellow-
twining them instead,
to more aristocratic maroons and henna, auburn, chestnut or roan.
Some cannot come to consensus
and the results are sporadic and unyielding to nature’s way—
a lone, guilded yellow branch here
too much crimson there,
--a rowdy apricot blend in the back
(which is just an embarrassment)
too little green left to balance….
Oh! But when a plan comes together!
Yea! For the thousand amber-patterned leaves
who have chosen a little more yellow on the right side.
Yea! For the hundreds of reddened / ocher parts
and yea! And applause! For all the hard work and planning
which came to fruition in the guise of a golden, tawny, rust—
this season’s newest sensational color!!!
The energy then becomes more focused
and the vivid color just simply shouts its tones
for those to hear
who are attuned to the symphony of nature’s colored tones.
The perfect harmony of color – the choral blend of half note changes in hues;
building strong and loud to produce enough vibration for the coming dance.
And dance they do,
with months of choreographed moves,
and twirls,
pirouettes and leafy bobs.
Weeks of lessons and reminders;
each unit able to participate in its own spiraled descent.
You can see some of them practicing on their petioles…
twirling and swaying to
and fro
in the wind.
The evergreens watch with wonder and awe.
Squirrels quickly rush to each branch, trying to guess which leaf will fall next;
Decisions, decisions,
The traditional slow spiral? The more difficult lazy sway?
An ambitious dead drop?
Or a calculated journey
driven by just the right wind draft
to send the participant far beyond the protection
of maternal boughs.
And the instinct to jump doesn’t come easily for some.
For after the plunge—
no one hears from the leaf again.
Its connection from the collective immediately severed
traveling alone
and without a way to enlighten the others.
And once down?
The exhilaration of the wind,
the creativity of the improvisations that must take place
when the unexpected gusts come from behind.
The unique opportunity to be audacious enough
to drift beyond the collective’s view
into sounds and sensations not made or intended for leafy dreams.
Some land quickly and are set upon by others;
forever hidden amidst the forest floor.
Others tangled by the web of fate,
are driven onto perfect pedestals for passerby’s to admire or ignore.
The whims of nature are subtly unpredictable.
Falling is inevitable, but to where? And when?
And with what style and grace despite appropriate planning.
And the final destination is as final as the wind is predictable.
Here,
then, there,
then here again;
the dance continuing until its time is done
and it returns to the earth from which it came.
e-mail: spearmint100@yahoo.com
NOTHING'S CHANGED 
/P>
