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Posts Tagged ‘smoke’

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

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Roses

Come close, come close, then whisper down,
Quiet as a soundless sound.
So close to touch a beauty rose,
That swirls love into the nose,

With petals wound into a bulb,
Like secrets that the lovers told,
Those among those scared scents,
Questioning all loves innocence.

A gardener knows to wear his gloves,
Tending to his lovely loves,
Sneaking under and crawling out
Of all the smoke that’s dressed as clouds,

While others plant up in the sky,
Then let red petals wilt and die.
To dance at times that deadly dance,
Safe in the ground or sky with chance.

A story that a heart may know
Against good judgment from the soul,
To pick a hanging dripping red,
That love is life, the rest is dead.

Kyle McHale      2010

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You in the Winter

And so I see you with me forever
In a snowy world wood.
The kind that would kill a lonely man
But give magic to true love.
In those woods flurries do fall softly.
The whiteness consumes all but
The slender grey tree trunks that decorate.

It is the calm of embracing perfection.
A place where only two voices are ever heard;
Mine and yours.

We would smile and play in the landscape.
A painting on a wall that has been kind enough to
Let us crawl into it and become lost forever.
In its dead dreamy scene.
Dead to those who cannot enter,
Dreamy to those who are let in.

Such frigid air burns the lungs
But our warm clothes are bundled high
And our hearts are burning red.
Our breaths are seen,
Like dragons breathing smoke.
They cross and swirl together,
Drawing us to one another.

The cold breath,
A breath that reminds the living they are so.
A breath that carries pure beauty,
A breath that is so perfect
No man should be given rights to see it.

You in the winter, breathing.
Moments of triumph and of love.
You in the winter bundled up and beautiful,
In this landscape from my most precious dreams.
No one will ever share this with me,
Except maybe a brown deer, or a red fox.

Kyle McHale      2005

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Fog and Smoke

On a ship in a foggy harbor,
On water I don’t wish to bother,
I steer a certain path to take,
Unsure of this guided mistake.

I light a cigarette to burn,
With every puff I come to learn,
Just as much as the smoke that leaves
My lungs to join the fog with ease.

What things do fog and smoke discuss?
Issues of swirling smoky trust?
Or does the smoke just interfere
With foggy sounds I wish to hear?

I do not know what will happen,
Or who to refer to as captain.
He may be just my outer shell,
Or my cigarette, I just can’t tell.

He may be just my lonely mind,
Deeper thoughts of a lonely kind.
He may be in the smoky mist,
Floating fog with a spirit twist.

Who captains this ship I stand on?
What tune would be his captain’s song?
Being so lost I just might miss
My chance to learn and grow from this.

For deep within my pulsing core
I seek to search and learn much more.
I’ve been captain all along,
The fog and smoke are my song.

The ship is steered by my glowing heart,
My compass of life through the dark.
Be whole in an uncertain time,
This smoky journey is now mine.

Kyle McHale      2008

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