ponder

In solitude I ponder

Why my sweetheart chose to wander

Yes, I know I’ll get beyond her...

But I”ll cry.

and I’ll listen to the verses,

with no arguments or curses,

of the tale that she rehearses,

every lie.

then I’ll move  toward the future

stitch my heart with double suture

and I’ll cheer and clap and root her…..

Sweet goodbye.

Of Love

A feeling of euphoria,

a woman and a rose,

a long, committed, partnership,

of love the husband knows.

A tenuous and abstract thing,

of love he understands,

or thinks he does until they

put a baby in his hands.

A tiny girl in tatted lace

has brought him to his knees,

she grips his heart with fear

at every cough and baby sneeze. 

She calls to him in silent nights,

the deepest sleep defeats.

She holds his breath in hostage ‘till

he knows her heart still beats.

Behold the hulking man of men,

of beastly, manly powers,

who’s brought to tears by tiny fists

with gifts of mangled flowers.

A feeling of euphoria, 

a little girl, a rose…

a dirty face, a messy kiss,

of love the father knows.

~Dean Neighbors~

Rivers of Time

 

Dinosaurs waiting for stone to erode,

their skeletons covered, uncovered again,

iron that’s forgotten the blood where it flowed

and phosphorous leached from a primitive brain–

delicate sabers of soft-stepping cats

enshrouded in shimmering oceans of sand,

strata of relative sediment that’s 

concealing the bones of the earliest man–

visible traces of numerous beasts,

the sum of Earth’s creatures forever enshrined–

signs of their passing won’t slow in the least

the rivers and runnels of ongoing time. 

~ Dean Neighbors ~

“We loved the earth, but could not stay” ~ Loren Eiseley~ 

This poem was inspired by an article by Loren Eiseley.

Mildly Blue

On a mildly blue day in forever

in a slumber world born of a choice,

past the mountains and molehills of never

where the river meets ocean, a voice

is reciting an often told story

of love, the definitive prize

of a boy in his whimsical glory,

or a girl with her soul in her eyes.

It's a study in secretive glances,

it's a ballad in hesitant rhyme,

of do-over hearts and romances,

unbound by the shackles of time.

Then, deep in the night or the morning,

my, supposedly, untroubled soul

in league with my heart, sounds a warning

that the lease on my life can't control.

Am I mending a heart that was broken?

Am I telling a tale out of school?

Am I Shepherd to wishes unspoken,

or a dreamer exposed as a fool?

~ Dean Neighbors~