Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘tree’

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 »

At That Site

Somewhere in the heart
My world’s beating slow,
While resting on a stone
My heart has come to know.

At a dying site
Where the stones sit still,
Type of life in air
Only souls can fill.

And moments so in time,
Thinking peacefully soft,
Swirling dancing air,
Dancing dreadful lost.

A site of life and death,
Of strong earthy mud,
Connecting air and ground,
A site where flowers bud,

And rain and rain goes round,
And up and live left down,
The rest of beating faith
Leaves without a sound,

The rest of fleeting love
Leaves the heart to run,
That only person’s left,
Just senses and the sun,

To keen eye all the air,
All surrounding place,
Knowing only body,
Knowing fight or chase.

And in this primal state,
Of life and death and love,
Will it be the rabbit,
Or the hawk and the dove?

Or creature that is new,
Still a heart and human soul,
Knowing fear and loss
And all that sadness goes,

 Feeling heat and cold,
Howling for the pack,
Turning out all soul,
Letting heart come back.

Real human faith,
Eerie place hold still,
The ending and the start,
My breath is what is filled.

Kyle McHale      2009

Read Full Post »

Dying in a Chair

I don’t want to die in a chair,
I’d rather be afoot somewhere,
To be out there when I’ve no air,
The men before me died in chairs.

For Pop-Pop faded in a chair,
All that he saw way over there,
The Pacific blood he went through,
Then understood what men must do.

For Gramps faded in a chair,
All that he saw way over there,
The prison camps that he went through,
Then understood what men must do.

For Dad faded in a chair,
All that he saw way over there,
That jungle hell that he went through,
Then understood what men must do.

I don’t want to die in a chair,
I’d rather be afoot somewhere,
To be out there when I’ve no air,
The men before me died in chairs.

Kyle McHale      2010

Read Full Post »

Man’s Heart

Always now, as always then,
A place to form a perfect age,
When chivalry and better men
Had fine-tuned their sharp, skillful rage,
Or showed their love with letters sent,
With blood and earth on an old page.
Better or worse to woman that
Could then play puppet, tit for tat.

Always now, as always back
When only strength in men had failed,
Crushing thoughts of a woman that
Gave wind to an empty sail,
The only thing that men do lack,
Finding strength in loves betrayal.
Old knights and new knights do their best,
Holding hearts from a bursting chest.

Always now, as always ago,
Carried honor but could not pass,
Through or around the awful show
Of two body prints in soft grass
Where love was formed and made to glow,
But no one told not made to last.
A time or two duration of,
When honor thinks it can keep love.

Always now, as always had
To carry swords and steel plates,
But battle flesh is far from sad
When stacked against loving’s hate,
Of that which kills a lonely lads
Chance at keeping honors fate.
What swords of men, what honor set
Of traits can make good men forget?

Always now, as always past,
Dark ages come and go away,
It’s sweetest things that do not last,
That make men men in honors way,
Carrying forth the only task
To say the words when one must say,
I am man with armored heart,
I lead worlds that once were dark.

Kyle McHale      2009

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 »

Dead Raven Tree

Upon a charming hill,
A dreadful tree alone,
And so well for so ill,
A place those birds have flown.

Top to ground, ground to top,
Lost old souls fill the trunk,
Where all their lives have stopped,
All their dreams, dead and sunk.

Do those birds give or take?
What darkness lost up in it?
Do they take those that are late
Or any passing of it?

All that haunts the mind and eyes
Seeps out the dreadful crust,
Keeping a dry dead sky
Keeps warmth from nature’s touch.

Beating ground lets out some air,
For all that tries to flee
The grips of claws grabbing hair,
Pulling in more mystery.

Did the reaper pass and keep you?
Where did you come from you black tree?
Why won’t God come and take you
Out of Edgar Allan Poetry?

Laugh a little, laugh a lot,
I before the devil’s arm,
Some trail I had lost,
To avoid danger’s harm

Led me to the foot of it,
That charming little hill,
Hoping that my honor’s lit
A higher power’s will.

Then out from everywhere,
Tree calling for the dead,
Yet so hard not to stare
When darkness is overhead.

That gathering above,
The terror in myself,
Shakes my thoughts up of
All I’ve ever felt.

Those ravens swarming high,
A moving halo dream,
A horrid beauty sky,
A circling raven ring.

Did the reaper pass and keep you?
Where did you come from you black tree?
Why won’t God come and take you
Out of Edgar Allan Poetry?

That dreaming flight spoke to me,
Then asked to take my soul,
To join the blackened tree,
To stay here in the cold.

I refuse! I refuse!
Why did I wander here?
A thousand birds to choose
From any type of fear

To try and take my hope.
This place unpleasantly
Takes the things I know,
Then rips them out of me,

Then holds me frozen still.
Shortening my breaths,
Feeling a demon’s will
To take all I have left.

Place me in a world of
Some life that’s glowing green,
Some place that is filled with love,
A place I find hard to dream.

Did the reaper pass and keep you?
Where did you come from you black tree?
Why won’t God come and take you
Out of Edgar Allan Poetry?

Do the ravens listen to
Their master in the dark?
What has this been coming to,
Some life falling apart?

Some empty morbid scene,
Just a tree, a hill, some birds,
And darkness whispering,
Hoping to be heard.

I hope all this passes me,
And Poe says what he means,
I hope the truth about this tree
“Is but a dream within a dream.”

Kyle McHale      2010

Read Full Post »