Verse
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In times of drought I have no doubt
flowers will wither in their bout.
How do we quench thirst without
water
for all the lakes and oceans I love
no water; no life.
Copyright (C) 1995 S. J. Dalgleish
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We pray for sun while others rain
it comes to this again and again.
Too much; too little, we are quite vain
Copyright (C) 1995 S. J. Dalgleish
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In the vista I see the never meant to be... Twisted wine Frozen in struggle To reach the light Outstretched to the incandescent sky. Always struggling towards thy creator. The Iron Vine Copyright (C) 1995 S. J. Dalgleish
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Garibaldi
With the wispering wind at my side
I bide my time.
I bide my stride.
There's peacefulness inside me
And a forest path in front
Behind me cleft foot prints cross mine
one side to the other.
Far in front, a tranquil lake awaits
my cupped hand to break it's surface.
And stars above will unvail themselves
for my gaze to rest upon soon after kindling is lit.
No thought runs through my mind.
Sleep is of a nuisance, for my eyes will strain to see
that never ending last shooting star...
A warmness on my cheek triggers a lid to flicker.
Then the next.
A treetop shades my twinkling eye.
I overslept the birth of a new day.
Soon I am up and on my way, but first
taking my surroundings
and maple syrup garnished pancakes
inside of me.
The ground underfoot seems softer
and I lighter.
With my pack left in the tent behind
for the days's wandering
I seem to bounce
over the ground and
feel like running.
I walk
so as not to miss any of nature's splendor.
A place.
A little known place
where courageous chipmunks and intrepid fowl live
is where I take my seed and nuts.
I take heed not to startle
For even a twitch...
Nuts and seed nestled
in back of my tunneled hand
In a long time waiting.
After many questions of my intent.
A brave small creature
Tickles my palm with the top of it's head.
Offering the same
to the morning sun god.
Such concentration
to make such a sacrifice.
My arm wanting down,
but I wanting it up.
Closed eyes.
The colour of the sun upon my lids.
A wispering wind.
Blink open.
I poise strongly.
Gentlely it lands.
Weighs so little for the size.
Would be for a hunter
a great prize.
If he would only look into its eyes.
(to be continued...sometime)
Copyright (C) 1997 S. J. Dalgleish
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Within these twisted vines we reach Look beyond these stories I beseech "Find life by doing..." is the one I seek Idol chat cannot achieve this feat To communicate through distorted opera One must possess a contorted perspective and not one of a detective to make sense of all this crap. Copyright (C) 1998 S. J. Dalgleish
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Beyond Beef
In meat we lust
In McDonald's we trust.
As humans we love to live in irony.
Ignorance is bliss They say and in the end They'll pay.
The land of the free. The free for the taking. Free for the raping.
Free with a burger and fries.
We all know the things that harm us,
but most choose to ignore them and play dumb.
Open your eyes and find what's already there.
A planet and inhabitants in despair.
Copyright (C) 1998 S. J. Dalgleish
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With all the the things on your mind
It's enough to make a person go blind.
Years have gone bye
In the blink of an eye
Your thoughts still incomplete
I feel I can hardly compete
But one day all will be clear
One day you'll see
That you complete me
And I complete you, my dear.
Copyright (C) 1998 (Jan. 18) S. J. Dalgleish
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Nothing can shake me
I'm untouchable
(I never used those words to myself again without reflection)
These were my thoughts as I sat a top a tree.
I grabbed an apple from my pocket
I put it there earlier in the kitchen with Mom cleaning-up
Already planning my escape
With a mouthful I yelled; screamed, at the top of my lungs,
"Nothing Can Shake Me!"
"I'm untouchable!"
Standing on a branch, arms raised in victory; in defiance; in freedom
all those feelings and more
Just then I caught some in the back of my throat
I choked spontaniously
Spontaniously I continued
As I tumbled head over heals
Heals over head
Branch upon branch beat upon my body
As a pro boxer would see my every move before I made it
The branches hit everywhere unprotected
I lay with my back to the ground
After having managed to remove my face from it
Starring up through the collidascope of branches
The near noon sun twinkled back at me
This tree; oak
This Old Oak
How many had fallen at it's base from a branch above?
How many had survived?
Does it judge me?
No- far too old for that
It knows
One day soon someone, an old man perhaps,
Will walk to this very spot
Looking up, craning his neck
Then by chance an unevenness under foot beckons him to glance his feet
Someone is burried here, he'll think
Carnage
No, just my imprint
I can see it now, three old men
Digging under a tree.
I'm sure the great oak would chuckle to it's self
Sending a cascade of leaves, perhaps
Copyright (C) 1998 S. J. Dalgleish
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THOUGHTS
in the car, the long winding road
a picture of a distant friend.
yellows, oranges and purples or passion.
darkness.
a map, the trail ahead, the mountain above
the flirtation in her eyes.
flowers
meandering downward, cold and green blue
an artist paints
a courier in the city.
the wolf, the fox, a jacket.
hunter relaxes.
eraser, struin pencils, books.
a TV.
boots, umbrella, coat,
sunny and 30 degrees
go'n out : date : type of fruit
with a puff of smoke, she vanished.
told her she should've quit.
sex.
My grandpa said that it has something to do with the
Trojan horse story:
They should have never taken it in without nailing it shut.
Disneyland; the time of your life.
thinking of home
Yen declines, panic.
elsewhere people line for food.
feeding the birds while shooing
away hungry
homeless
beggars.
classifieds.
job seeker.
jobs jobs jobs.
$6.50/hr.
40 yrs. old.
-
classifieds.
job seaker.
no experience;
no job job job
$6.50/hr.
22 yrs. old.
distant girlfriend.
distant future.
distant passed.
stuck in present
perked up ears, staring eyes, blinding light
kick of the legs, twitch of the nose
a near miss
she hits with
a sucker punch
a low blow
another low blow
one from out of nowhere.
You're left speachless
and untouched
Copyright (C) 1993-1998 S. J. Dalgleish
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...my eyes were gilded with sugar
for she did all but taste of sweetness
ahh, but I cannot attest to that
I had yet to only catch a glimpse
but what sight!
I opened my eyes at that moment so wide
throughout my day ghostly images repeated the moment
a sheen of skin and hair
flowing through the hurried people
above whose heads I peered
on my toes, I lost sight
frozen in wonderment
I lost time
lost more than time...
That was more than fourty years ago now. I recall the moment so very clearly. At first I thought that she'd
come 'round again, everyone always does. But when I failed to spy her with continuing attempts in the next
coming weeks, I became the ever more so sullen of my loss. Weeks became months and I forgot about it,
about searching that is, not about the moment. If only I had jumped instead of being frozen. If only I had
run instead. Run after this apparition; for that's all she is now. For whatever reason, of all the deeds I've
done, all the wrongs and rights, all and all this sits on my brain most burdensomely. To catch your dream as
it flutters by your nose as an erratic flying insect. You could swat it away thinking it a mere distraction from
your day's thoughts, but in fact it could be that one thing you've been waiting to stumble upon, or it upon
you. Heed my advice and follow your every whim as you would a stroke of genius. You only live on this
earth as you are now once, as far as I can tell, so take heed... take heed my child.
Copyright (C) 1999 S. J. Dalgleish
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Apple Pie In My Eye
Like Grandma's apple pie
Just fresh out of the oven
Sitting on the windowsill to cool
Lightly sprinkled with sugar
Sweet but not too sweet
So tempting
I want not just once slice
But to take it all for myself
To hold its warmth in my hand
To inhale the aroma
Then eat bite by delicate bite
But alas I must await my piece
And share with everyone else
Copyright (C) 1999 (April) S. J. Dalgleish
Japanese 日本語で
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Rampart Moon
an incandescent sea of tranquillity upon my countenance
with its mournful glow
shining trickles of light down my cheek
I throw resentful curses of lost love
how can I, at such a mournful face
defend me from my own words
which are like a ferule upon my heart
supine as I am now, you'd think me struck here
oh, what I'd give for a halcyon to calm my tidal patheticness
Copyright (C) 1999 S. J. Dalgleish
Japanese 日本語で
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