Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘deep’

Sweet Pickings

A farmer’s field picked up sweet
Summer scents from a sunrise glow
And vision had a feast to eat
So did scent when the wind did blow.

A basket filled with summer fruit,
Hard hands in dirt to smile high,
To Kokopelli and his flute
Blessed harvest it’s not too dry.

Please play a little note or two
Way out on the horizon line,
Those notes carry when sky is blue,
Perhaps this night is meant for wine.

For knowing love has filled the ground
At least for one more year,
Deep in the night the whispers sound
For rest and wine and hope and cheer.

A season lived, a season kept
In memories of cheerful kind,
Summer nights when the peaceful slept,
When a spirit flute had you to find.

Kyle McHale             2013

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

Thoughts in Autumn

I become lost in the scattered mess as I always am,
or seem to be, unable to break my unhappy cycle.
When daylight begins to die with everything else I find some peace.
The modern world allows for many of us to
avoid panic before the cold comes,
too much time to think when survival is not the pulse of thought.

I let an early frost-covered weekend morning break the silence,
and watch the cold glisten outside the kitchen window.
The house is asleep, though I am not.
My head hangs, my heart hangs,
my thoughts aren’t of anything memorable or meaningful.

Coffee is a good thing,
I learned to drink it too young with Gramps who would wake
too early to watch frost with a hanging head as well.
A deep sadness carried by men who often spread cheer themselves
but know the grim realities of life,
staying with those who have love in their hearts despite
the darkness of the world.

Slow mornings are good.
I wish I could share them with Gramps and Dad.
I say bring the season on with a quiet passion.
Dying colors have that special beauty,
an irreplaceable hit on the senses.
The air is cold, the coffee hot,
and I somewhere in between.
If anything I am ahead of the day
but behind in everything else,
thinking on this autumn morning.

Kyle McHale      2012

Read Full Post »

The Wild Ravine

Remembrance of a wild spot,
Paths unknown through time’s web,
Holding deep some sacred rock
Where all stays amongst the sacred thread
Of all that’s gone and up ahead,
Everything, alive and dead.
Whispers only a few may hear
When most don’t know locked behind doors
Seeking comfort on man-made floors
And miss the wonders in a year.

For crashing in and letting out
The cries of beasts and past dead men,
Some may know when nature shouts
Linking now to what was then.
A deep ravine that hides its place,
Where glowing ferns fill up the space,
Where thoughts and dreams are frozen still,
The canopy becomes the scene,
The whispers flow in secret streams
And all is subject to its will.

Trapped is time, the motions flow,
The ground stays touched by natural hands,
The crafty creatures stay down low,
All is harmony in the land.
The quiet sounds are so profound,
Except the feet that trudge the ground.
Join the place carved by the knife of
Ancient shaping artists who wait
Eons of perfection to create
Nature that takes but also loves.

Kyle McHale       2012

Read Full Post »

Deep at the Roots

When the light fades over the hills,
The world quiet and resting,
Among the creatures place you sit
At odds with what you are thinking.

Know that life is fast, life is slow,
Sit and rest in your wooden chair,
Breathe it all in to cycle out,
Trust your thoughts to that low lit air.

Let it take your troubles out there,
Sit easy for a time and then
Your thoughts will spread in that soft wind
To find you back in a time when

Dirt and cricket chirps had meaning,
When nothing mattered but the sun,
When crayfish waited for your small hands,
When you first had to trust someone.

That breeze will bring it back to you,
Remind you life is not that way,
Then as the early night time falls
Be thankful for the warmth that day,

And sweetness flows deep in the ground,
That pulsing life just under foot,
Just dirt and crickets singing loud,
Touch all of life deep at the roots.

Kyle McHale      2010

Read Full Post »

Travelling Towards a Heavy Heart

Travelling from the broken coast
To where one seeks some peace the most,
A destination waiting there,
A calling out through humble air.

To find it and to travel well
Means keeping faith when oceans swell,
Keeping pace and bearing straight,
Knowing luck meets travelling fate.

Broken down and walking slow
A hovering of hope will glow
And stay with you just over head
From when you’re true till when you’re dead.

Not all who seek find that warm place
Hidden somewhere in secret space,
Below the ground, between the trees
Is where some peace stays secretly,

But if by chance or stupid fate
You’re lucky enough to locate
That cherished space, that sacred glow,
The reward is what you’ve come to know,

A heavy heart and wisdom too,
A subtle warmth and peace for you.

Kyle McHale      2012

Read Full Post »

Waiting Star

In all the eternal empty space
Where one falls out to everything,
Sometimes a dizzy blinding search
Forces the eyes past skies on earth

To see what fills that emptiness.
What floats and glows with faint warm light
At night when darkness is what shows,
When one is lost and seeks to know

How that light can come closer in.
Then at some point a truth appears,
Little lights and searching feet
Notice each and seek to meet,

To travel out so that faint light
Takes night away and brightens day.
For there you are, there you are,
Waiting for me like a star,

Hanging beauty in the deep
Areas where few do find,
And fewer still will travel there,
But I have found you passed earth’s air.

For darkness arrived to keep you
Somewhere faint and dim, out and lost,
Just waiting to send light my way,
Then catching the warmth I hope that stays.

For there you are, there you are,
Waiting for me like a star,
I only prayed for other things,
Not knowing what your warm light brings.

Kyle McHale      2011

Read Full Post »