Chasing After Wind

Stillness in the Morning

There’s a stillness in the morning,

scaring the man to death,

a sigh, a cup of coffee,

then an intake of breath.

The songs they sang

keep coming back,

with no sound in the room,

the cool change finally came,

albeit a little too soon.

The painting is not completed yet,

when sensible he knows it is true,

but when he looks upon the walls,

the colors change their hue.

He’ll deal with it as always,

having been through worse before,

but he would like to see the woman

upon opening the door.

The jester gets carried away sometimes

when handling himself,

like trying to hold your pants up

when you haven’t got a belt.

He’ll get a little better

when his intensity is felt,

but, meanwhile….

There’s a stillness in the morning

scaring the man to death,

a sigh, a cup of coffee,

then intake of breath.

____________________________________________________

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

Mr. Dramatic and Modern Day Man

Who knows what is in store

for the modern day man.

Who strives to be normal

without knowing what that means.

What will come back to

the one who is poor from helping?

What hand will lay upon

his shoulder when his cries?

When will the peace come

of any kind at all?

When Mr. Dramatic makes an exit,

without a dramatic fall.

Where will the feeling start,

the beginning of great relief,

Where will the feeling end

with shaking of firm belief?

Why are those who do not know

the first to criticize?

Why does the collective voice of humanity

sound like a baby’s cries?

How? Is the biggest question

and the hardest one to answer.

How can you see the soul of the dance

without understanding the dancer.

Indeed.

____________________________________________________________

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

A Reply

Scared is a reason, paranoid a curse,

The two souls surviving

(Jester and Lady)

Through verse.

The jester is still hiding

what the lady has seen,

and cries in the darkness

at the mess as it’s been.

Line of confusion, illusion,

harpsichord melody,

The reflection of the essence

of the things that should be.

The lines which evolve

from the songwriter’s pen,

are requested by the lady,

again, yes, and again.

It’s her own way of drifting

as his is to write,

echoes of laughter

escort the dawn into light.

The lady’s words

put the truth where it stands,

While the moment is tossed,

just to see where it lands.

__________________________________________________________________________

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

Cyndy, my inspiration lady, J.D., our youngest son, and Me

Inspiration Lady

Inspiration Lady,

Could I please have this dance?

To the tune of tender mercies

And tragic circumstance.

The jester is immobile,

While the poet stands alone:

The optimist turns sinner

Trying to pull the sword from stone.

Inspiration Lady,

You have opened up my heart;

It lies open – ready – willing,

Act One, Scene One, first part.

Yet Act Two could never happen,

Beginning could be end,

A letter is never pleasantly received,

That is not pleasantly sent.

On the other hand, love is “feel-good,”

When “feel-good” is the intent,

But the joy is in the giving,

It cannot be borrowed or lent.

Inspiration Lady,

The poet looks at you,

And sees the beauty of a thousand years

through an entirely different hue.

The jester sits and laughs at himself,

The poet merely perceives,

The lady is astoundingly beautiful,

if she would just believe.

Inspiration Lady,

Could I please have this dance?

To the tune of tender mercies

and tragic circumstance.

_______________________________________________________________________-

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

I was going through old files and folders when I found manuscripts I had forgotten about. This poem is one of those.

As The Rain Came

A rhythmic, steady

beating on the roof,

An ancient

timeless tribal ritual –

He’d heard before,

drumming into his soul

calming the restless spirit

for the moment,

a peacefulness

of the moment,

that was new

(or long forgotten)

As the rain came.

The drumming continued

pulsating endlessly,

Barely containing

the restless spirit –

The world lay still,

As memories drifted by

pulled from a heart-dug well

insignificant,

to the beauty he knew,

insignificant,

to that place in time,

that was new

(not soon forgotten)

As the rain came.

A rhythmic, steady,

beating on the roof,

An ancient

timeless tribal ritual –

He’d heard before,

But the drumming and the beauty

shared the soul of the restless spirit

returning the joy,

that was new

(not soon forgotten)

As the rain came.

______________________________________

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

Isolated Jester

When days have no meaning

They run end to end,

Stylistic abortion,

an end to begin.

Walls behind curtains –

Doorways to pain,

Neon paths to nightlife,

shine dull in the rain.

Laughter from a woman,

Rings in the ears,

Of the isolated jester,

Knowing not what he hears.

Laughter of the loving,

wind chimes of the nerves,

Straightaways are the silence

before the storm of the curves.

The young love forever,

the old just a while,

Awaiting the sadness

that follows the smiles.

The vision remains lovely

while nothing is said,

Leaving the jester silent

inside his head.

Love is a memory

in a fire’s blue flame,

Faces in the shadows

recalling the name.

_____________________________________

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

Mr. Dramatic’s Attic Attack

Two steps forward

One step back,

Gave Mr. Dramatic

An attic attack.

His mind is reeling

Because someone came in.

Vow of silence

broken again.

New changes, new habits

Become the same old routine,

Unless the rarity between two people occurs

And a new love is seen.

When it flows from the heart,

Yet does not bypass the mind,

It brings to mind special

and one of a kind.

A wink is to a Friday

what a picture is to a thousand words,

Setting free the bird

and seeing it return.

There is new light in the attic,

The windows are ajar,

A toast to the dreamers

wherever they are.

It is the essence of togetherness

Transcending distance,

Ultimate communication,

understanding circumstance.

Two steps forward,

One step back,

Mr. Dramatic handles

the attic attack.

_____________________________________________________

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

Mr. Dramatic

Mr. Dramatic

Came down from his attic,

Putting misfortune at bay.

He stood on the front porch

And announced to the crowd,

“I’ve said all I have to say.”

“I ran for the laughter,

Away from the tears,

Yet there’s no escaping

the fears and the years.

The crowd did not understand,

They collectively sighed,

He began to giggle,

Smiles followed the sigh.

Mr. Dramatic returned –

To his attic and cried.

“They’ll not see the teardrops,”

He said to the desk,

and mirror, and all,

“Because I’m the one there

to pick them up

Whenever they fall.”

“I’ll keep on smiling

Because complaining won’t do.

The world looks better when

someone else is laughing, too.”

__________________________________________

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

Rest gently, ye suffering servant,

You suffer no more.

The walls of the church

mourn your passing with moans,

groans amid quiet smiles.

Rest gently, ye suffering servant,

You suffer no more.

You are gone, ye good Samaritan,

Gone from our midst.

Sniffles amid sadness,

cries amid sweet memories,

your face is clear in our anguish.

You are gone, ye good Samaritan,

Gone from our midst.

You are remembered, ye good Samaritan,

By all who knew you.

Fond smiles amid memory’s snapshots,

Your spirit fills the halls

of the church and our lives,

You are remembered, ye good Samaritan,

By all who knew you.

Rest gently, ye suffering servant,

You suffer no more.

You were our caretaker,

Now the Lord is yours,

And you are his.

Rest gently, ye suffering servant

You suffer no more.

_____________________________________________________

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark