Monday, November 26, 2012

The Time Ship

As if
time were
banks of
a river,
and we are
water below,
or time were
a ship in the ocean
with us on it,
while we eat,
talk, write,
and grow,
times moves
day time
turns into
night time,
we do
this to
feel the
and situations
upon our feet.
It's hard
or impossible
to withhold
we have to
sail along

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

From July to January

Life grows and stretches,
July morning,
Out in the open field,
Birds chirp, the repeated quaternary calls,
The grass is tall,
Full of Jade green wreckage,
The nature of summer is expectancy.
I feel like mist on a lotus pond,
empty like a deserted rowboat,
Weak as a lily pad,
Sun ray lifts the curtain of fog,
The way a ghost vanishes under light,
An enchanting wand shapes,
Somethings languid and novel is shaped.
The fantasy turns into a reality,
The expected date is early January,
The coldest night of the season,
You will be carrying a ribbon,
as you draw your first breath, screaming,
and I smile to hear you.
A moment we share and remember,
until later, I carry in my soul.

Sunday, November 4, 2012

The Mime Owen Song By Matt Eric Schmids

The seasons will tumble over the field,
The Jade green leaves,
The showers of April,
May's floods,
Tenable or tenacious May.
Summer bursting and restless,
Torrents of water,
Torrents of weeks,
The roosters' crows,
The wolf's howl,
The rapids continue,