Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘cloud poem’

Floating Over

This mystic world, those colored trees,
Those rolling hills my dreams do paint,
My gloomy head and foggy thoughts
Collecting to precipitate.

For this place through eyes of men,
Or eyes of bear, or fox, or deer,
Their world’s see what I cannot,
My world’s smoke, theirs is clear.

Pure instinct makes those hearts guide true,
While clouding thoughts weigh on me,
For what to do in such a scene
But sit and think with large pine tree.

Colorful land, colorless sky,
These worlds meet at sheltered creek,
Autumn bronzed and flowing peace,
Pine needle forests pulsing deep,

And oh to sleep but it’s too cold
To rest and escape these thinking things,
You mystic world let me in,
Tell me what my heart can bring.

 Would I add to your confusion?
Or maybe I the one confused,
And this world makes all clear sense,
Or am I the one that has to choose?

Land shutting down, sky holding still,
What’s asleep and what’s awake?
Do shedding leaves mean drowsiness,
Would proper be my hand to shake?

But mystic world answer me,
Take me up in this color mess,
Where trees meet sky and sky meets trees,
Me to float between back and chest

So heart becomes the mystic line.
For land you have a spirit here,
But I the beating heart that’s true,
You confuse with your graying air.

My natural guide will let me hear
Half of your secrets in the ground,
And half the creatures’ place I’ll see
And know your whispers have been found

And placed in my secret pocket,
My thoughts on page, my diary,
But only by pouring out
And floating over all the scene.

Kyle McHale      2009

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

Cloud Everest

When those sky creatures build up
The right way in the summer heat,
Craggy cumulus mountain peaks
Somewhere our souls seek to summit.

If one looks up and thinks, most don’t,
That calling is there, the whole range
Morphing and shifting something strange
That the sky map shows and land maps won’t.

Spirit looks to the tallest form,
Aborigines born out of red
Rock in the heart where earth is dead,
A legend spreads of where we are born.

A Cloud Everest no one can climb,
Temporary tortures and leaves,
Mountains no one could conceive
Become lost in the wandering mind.

A seeking soul, a traveler,
That same reason for land searching
And climbing and wanting and dancing
Strung out above the wanderer.

Recognize that all may be blest,
Kit up and go! The puffs of ice
That don’t exist but in this life,
Climb what’s yours that Cloud Everest!

Kyle McHale 2013

Read Full Post »