Freedom from Pain

Tugging and aching deep within,

Twinges that pick at nerves and muscles,

As a guitarist would finger his guitar during a music fest

But the prize is not beautiful beauty and song,

But a litany of hushed, sworn words.

Not meant for the little one’s ears,

No, the pain brings words of hate,

Self-loathing, anger aimed at me.

Mad at my age, raged at my condition,

Fearful that it will last forever.

Brought to a point where I scream,

No more,

And allow the surgical skill of an MD.

To heal me, make me closer to whole.

Recovery is grueling, the first weeks.

Felt new, a different type of pain,

A bit beat up, surgery is rough.

Still tugging and aching, but the feel

Is not quiet right, the nerves re-enacting,

Like fire on my right.

A pain that relinquishes itself a bit day by day,

This pain is a symbol of my healing today.

While I use the tools for walking a bit less each hour,

There is still a bit of time left for me to get stronger.

I worried at first, I made a mistake,

Was I wrong and did not need to change?

But as I am getting better, and I feel my strength return,

Who am I to question whether I deserve to be pain free?

SMW

Mother Nature’s Mystery Tour

Over the river, into the horizon

A shimmer of light to come,

Welcoming the day that is to come.

Rose colored glasses, welcoming

The blue sky, its tinge moving ever

So slowly into a new day

The orange of the sun, not yet seen,

Nor yet felt, because a wisping, cooling breeze

Is pushing back, gently, yet firmly

Telling it to wait a bit,

Before it burns the earth with its rays.

In front of the horizon is a river,

Not yet raging, but bulging, moving swiftly

Full of Mother Nature’s recent tears,

Gentle, but firm tears, sometimes,

Others torrential, a downpouring of sad

Feelings of anger, towards our treatment

Of the very domain

That we borrow from her for a short time

The light reflecting on the water,

The wake visible, brush billowing north from south down

The great Missouri River

Greenery is jet black against the rosiness and

Fire of the orange, but soon will

Show its foliage in the great sunshine.

A welcome sight for my eyes on a Sunday morning

beauty of an Earth that Mother Nature

gives me and this brings me peace.

SMW

 Dreams

Sometimes wishes that fill our hearts,

Minds only wanting for those things that-

Provides comfort for everyday living.

Shelter, food, clothing-basic necessities,

Often silent screams to a being that can’t be seen,

Nor heard, so what is the point in vocalizing-

The demands-not dreams, basic decency.

If these are dreams, then what are the

Bulky items that we desire? Vacations,

Swanky houses, fancy cars, living large.

Forgetting of the simple things

that once brought smiles every day,

the birds chirping in the morning sun,

the dew drops carpeting not-so-perfect lawns.

The bowl of cereal, crackling its song.

Hot cup of coffee to prevent a yawn.

A loaf of a cat purring away,

The bark of dog greets you awake.

We aren’t that simple anymore,

Nor are we the same.

Some of us dream a dream of never wanting more,

Others dream of having fancier galore.

Then there are those that take their thoughts

And wishes to their heart,

They dream of a world that has all its needs,

And everything it wants.

SMW

Evolution of A Day

Never the same as yesteryear,

And fools to think we know,

Of the Evolution of that will unfold,

Right before our very eyes.

It begins with the color of the sky,

A sunrise in bloom,

Darkness progressing into light,

Hues of purple

Orange and pink

Never the same

Yet always complete.

Trees upon the horizon

Appearing black against

Scraps of leftover night

Leaves whose shapes can’t be seen,

yet their noisy bustling

In the wind speak their life story

Birds sing their songs while flying,

welcoming the day from the night

Some days the clouds put up a fight,

Fading and covering the light,

Taking the hues of pinks and golds

Giving an aura to behold

If the battle of the sky is lost

And the clouds come out on top,

Showers most refreshing may come,

But that does not call the journey done,

It is only just another way,

That the sky shows its beauty brave

For with the rain the trees will grow

The flowers bloom, the worms will show,

Birds will eat and chirp so loud,

Clouds will part and

The sun shall shine,

And in the end, it will descend,

Soon after we will dream our dreams,

While the moon shines its light

And when we wake and take the road

It shall all begin again,

the journey of earth’s beauty bright.

SMW

QUESTIONS OF LIFE

Long before I rise in the morn, my mind ponders of my place
In the world and of who I really am
Not the mere title of my being, the name given to me at birth
But the whole me, from the tiniest core of my soul to the part
That clumsily maneuvers each scene of life.

Once the heat of the sun sears its way into the morning, making it
Impossible to ignore, my mind is flooded with the rest of
Life’s questions, the how and the why,
Hoping that my lack of answers won’t mean dismal failure, but perhaps,
Hopefully, simple success.

Why am I here? Is there a purpose for my being?
Was it the career path that has paid my way for years or
did I miss a greater calling?

Or was it raising my beautiful children and watching them fly off to their
Own dynamic journeys, fulfilling their own wonderful dreams.

Maybe it was to write that bestselling novel that has yet to be written,
Or even attempted.
Was it to unravel my dreams?

Where am I to land my feet when I stumble and fall?

Do I swim through the water or trudge around it when the bridge fails?

Climb the mountains or just go travel by air?

When is it the right time to take a chance and begin again when all stops?
Have been exhausted?

I stare at the clock unsure of the precise moment to take each step.
To begin. To grow.

Until the final inquisition-how will I know when it ends?

Does it stop as suddenly as it begins, or does it slowly gear down, like an engine dying
Into the night?

Is there fanfare, balloons, and creepy clowns, or just the ultimate final
Silence,
Fading into black?

No judge or jury, only my attempt to live accordingly,
Answering my questions as I play the game.

Hoping that I helped more than I hurt,
Loved more than I hated,
And worked harder than I rested.

And that the mark I leave is as beautiful as the rainbow the sun
Brings after a surprise rain shower,

As glorious as the great waves of the oceans,

And as majestic as the wingspan of a soaring bald eagle.

SMW

This was written for my wife, Amber, as a celebration for our anniversary, which is May 24 (2015) 

 An Ode to Our Anniversary 

I remember the rain, oh, yes, the rain. Water from the skies for days straight, 

Then light mists the morn of 

The big day. 

Eventually the mist faded, and the clouds parted enough to give us hope. 

For our new start, the beginnings of us, 

Our Forever. 

With the help of our family, and friends old and new, 

We decorated for the day. 

We pulled together food and drink, along with comfortable wear. 

In preparation for the big day. 

Traditional was not our style, with both best man and woman in our line, 

Our children stood with us proud and tall, 

No preacher shouted oaths from God. 

We shared our own handwritten words of promise and pledge, 

Swapped special ring and our I do’s.

Sealed our ceremony with a kiss and

Blended our family in rainbow colors. 

Family and friends watched with smiles, 

Shared our buffet and sweet cupcakes. 

Pictures captured our glow of love.  

And we flitted about conversing with our guests. 

Until it was time to rest. 

We spent an evening at the Inn,  

Shared burgers and onion rings at the end 

Of our day. 

As I slept, I dreamed only of the Happy day. 

Every year I remember a new detail, so glad that I haven’t forgotten, 

I dare not lose a single moment of that most important day. 

And here it is-number 7- Amber, your marriage to me. 

I cannot imagine life without you, I hope you see. 

I love you more now than the day I said I do. 

Oh, hear my heart beating every day, for you, only you, yes truly for you. 

-SMW  

Snow Day

Minutes, into hours, then days, scoffing,

Guessing, wishing the snow to come

Will hold back.

Parents wondering about daycare,

Construction workers worrying about pay

And some over twenty-somethings

Fretting over the drive.

No love for the snow if it dares to come.

Seconds drag into minutes, while

The children wait for the call,

Or text, maybe hopeful message from

The television.  It is a SNOW Day.

Kids will sleep, cartoons will be watched,

Sledding will happen,

Mesmerized by the snow, angels will be born.

Adults clean off their cars,

Money must be made.

Brushes and scrapers do their thing,

Dusting off cars for treacherous drives.

Plows push snow, throw salt to the ground,

Predictions for inches, and foxhole prayers

For cessation.  Enough is enough, they say.

As the snow powers on, morning becomes day

A city wearing a stark, white Blanket of cooling snow.

A picture of perfection,

Even the scoffers and the groaners

Can’t bemoan the beauty of

A Snow Day.

-SMW

The Journey

The once upon a times and happily ever-afters,

the blissful endings from unsure beginnings

how can we even know?

Adventures in one dream or another

wishing for something only to find it

lacks the meaning we wanted

expectations to meet, timetables to set

itineraries to time, forgetting that life has

a clock of its own to set

so worried about seeing the large arenas

that we miss the tiny fields with history

eateries with glowing, neon lights

trying to out-bright that hole-in-the-wall food find

forgetting that while the cityscape is twinkle bright,

that the country sunset is the photographer’s delight

one person’s escape a dream come true, perhaps another one’s hell

grab hold of your dream, enjoy it, treasure it,

but leave some for the rest.

-SMW