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Posts Tagged ‘past’

Christmas Eve

Enough sun is left hanging low to
turn one side of everything golden.
Depending on how you enter into the fading day,
your mood is decided by which part
of your body enters the light first.
Golden hands. Golden feet.
Golden heart. Golden mind.
Filtering that light the neighborhood,
sifting that horizon gleam, every house,
every chimney, every small branch on every tree,
seeping into things as it passes by until it hits you.

Gold-kissed flurries swirl around,
gentle wind swept snow clouds whip up
and look painted in the cold sky.
Wind enough to chill your breath and let it
wrap around to your opposite ear,
almost a whisper to yourself,
wind enough to sneak a snowflake into
your mouth to melt on the tip of your tongue,
freezing all other senses for a moment,
or maybe you ate a flake of gold that circulates your veins,
maybe those clouds have gold trim like one of
your childhood pillows had.
Maybe it was all there just for you.

Standing where you used to live, thankful.
How could you have ever moved away?
How could you ever live here again?
Which side of you must be golden?

One day in the future on this night,
you’ll sit in a chair with a good view of the room and the tree,
among certain things, everyone else asleep,
whiskey in hand,
perhaps a fire softly roaring if you’re lucky enough,
what will matter most on that day of all days?

Your thoughts will say, “I hope what’s golden is seen
by those for whom my love is truly meant.”

Kyle McHale                                2014

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Love on its Own

There is nothing love won’t do for itself
When left enough alone and on its own.
A festering burst of blossoming plumes
Of red liquid dripping on long preserved tombs,

Of daisies pushed up through old lover’s dirt,
A long ago tale of harsh loving truth,
That spoke of a journey known by so few,
But when told to others everyone knew

What to do, and what was best and who was who.
For the unknown is what to truly do,
And guided love lasts out the rest,
Like a frozen moment when the sun must crest

On new day’s horizon, an early breath
Stretching far across a valley or sea,
Where ever it happens to be just then,
Love the beginning and love at the end.

Kyle McHale         2013

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The Keeper

The farewell light, the watch tower,
The candle keeper up so late,
The flickering thoughts, the sadness stays
When off go those but some must wait.

One day upon returning, maybe never,
The coastline torch that was left behind,
The keeping light may have changed hands
But the light still stays for those to find.

Aged old man are you the one
Who sent me off those years ago?
Are you the one who keeps the light?
Are you the one who guides my soul?

A ship amongst a lonely shore,
A night hanging low in moonlit air.
Fade away into the world then
Find light from a man with silver hair.

Tell him a tall-tale or two,
Watch the light and share his drink,
Do not forget he keeps the shore,
And as you talk, he will watch as he will think.

Kyle McHale      2012

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Toy Soldiers

A child with his soldier toys
Shoots and bangs his war time noise,
Knowing not the real cost
Of fallen brethren and true loss.

No one can fault the little ones
For thinking play time soldier fun,
For maybe raised on bravery,
A father dressed for full duty,

And back he comes from war alone
Blessed to see his child at home.
“Go on son with your soldiers play,
I’ll let you know the truth some day.”

Kyle McHale      2012

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Grandfathers and Legends

That only in the world of theirs,
Something round the rocking chairs,
That only sit on hallowed ground,
Wisdom coming through as sound.

Just gather round, gather round,
A proper spot that must be found.
What light is there from you to me?
A glimpse of it I wish to see.

Tell me something I don’t know
About a battle in the snow.
Tell me something I need now,
About the time you fought that cow.

Tell me something of your love,
A passion that I know not of.
Tell me what has made you strong,
A mystery or favorite song.

Tell me how you’ve lived so well,
I want to know the secret spell.
Tell me something of your youth
When you discovered simple truth.

Tell me something of the land,
Of how you worked it with your hands.
Tell me something of a friend,
Of how you saw him through the end.

A story told to me I’ll keep,
And think of when I fall asleep.
A glimpse of hope I can dream on,
To carry with me when you’re gone.

Kyle McHale      2012


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