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Posts Tagged ‘memory’

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

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Remember to Live

So remains a clear picture in the night,
Half forgotten, off centered, on the wall,
Some room of forgotten candles and wood,
Where moon sees its light on that picture fall.

In this hour the picture is perfect,
Remembered by and painted by light,
A man in that picture standing at
Some high valley stream absorbing his sight.

If it were so to cut out of life
A still piece memory of faith dreaming
Real hopes, perfection driven moonlit landscapes
With true uncertain guides, not plain predicting.

Find me in that lofty moment to freeze,
To capture what will never be again,
A moment of real love, inner faith,
Spirit warming from a real friend,

A first mountain morning mist that lifts away,
A snow covered east-lee wood that whispers,
Moments of greatest loss and greatest gain,
Of midnight madness and shifting mixtures.

Throw those moments in a hidden room of
Misplaced items, lost gathering places,
Where deformed, disconnected from the living,
Hoping to catch lost wandering faces.

But only catching moon light is enough,
Forever living moments need themselves
And a touch of all that midnight light to
Truly dance and breathe with content on shelves.

All that’s past and captured, lost and remembered,
Where is that unknown link from us to them?
That they lived, danced, dreamt for us may be enough,
Enough to love that spirit light again.

To see what is and forever will be,
For who we are is who we were,
Amongst the characters of the absurd
Resides some truth, half clear and half pure.

Lock the door to live again,
Join the man at that high valley stream,
Carrying the truth, the love, the light, the right,
Into the living past and present, into the dream.

Kyle McHale      2010

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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

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