Back to Chicago
Toll road to the city strolls
Winds blowing street tires
Filled with air pushing forward
The trips become a frequent chore
We open doors to adjust leather seats
Broken in and ripped
Hand smoked heat from summer shores
Semis headed off to 94
As we head for Lakeshore
Same city
Same sound
Familiar from the skyline to the broken ground
Chicago
My first city
Lake Michigan shores
We head back once more
From the bugs
To the webs
Rolling dust up
Cleaning the house
On a small Indiana farm
Crawling out
Yearning
Falling out
Contemplating the rearranging
The possessions I own
Giving up
Learning to let go
So we can roll down the road
From NY to IN
Paving paths of uncertainty
Getting older will certainly
Make me wonder about the future
What it holds
And how to just let go
Goodbye to a great
Such beauty and grace
With one stroke of the hand made
Painting pictures of words
On a blank page
Homage and prayers
Thoughts and emotions
Go out to Maya Angelou
As she swims her way
Into the eternal ocean
All poets or writers aspire
To live life full
Full of inspiration
Admiration
Creation
To walk in footsteps that have gone before
Do homage to her craft
From one poem or a simple draft
We lost an eternal light in our short lives
But we are thankful for what she had
What she shared
She made us better
She cared
Inspiration she has set on fire
The more you create
The more you desire
I hope to be 1/10th of the person she was
I send a message out to sea
To Maya her love and example
Set us all a bit more
Free
Coffee and smoked salmon
Lingers in my mouth
I reach for the ignition of my car
Live lived with the simple pleasures
The caffeine
Protein
Keep me alive
Awake
For trips near and far
Reminiscent and familiar
I have learned each city
By the letters that spell the name
Some far off distant
Others very much the same
The dash must be 108
Indiana summer feels so hot today
The leather scorching to touch
I grab my seat belt
Roasted in the reflecting sun
I quickly pull my hand back
Take a deep breathe
Very close to home
Yet ever far away
As the sweat drips down my face
This Memorial Day
The Santa Ana winds have picked up
On the east coast we have the
West in mind
Fires burning bright
Brightest in a long time
Broken spirits and hopes
Go out with our thoughts
Protecting homes
Thinking on LA in NY
A terrible fire season ahead
The winds picking up in every direction
It is our thoughts and prayers
We are a sendin’
The constant race
Of the human race
Coming face to face
With realities
Of what will Be
What will not be
Committed to a community
Of people breathing and sleeping
Communicating all sensations
Of creations
Temptations
Frustrations
Sharing with each other
The ideas of lovers
People hate
Other continue to love
We work well
On a Wednesday swell
Of the city
On the ground
In the NYC Town
The clock hands read the time
I search for subtleties and easy rhyme
Ideas created, lost, and forgotten
Are on my mind
Streets filled with afternoon light
Thoughts flow intermittent the skies
Rhetorical questions
Repetitious in their nature
Some thought will find me
Grab me
Then forgotten it has become
It is in my lazy procedure
I wrap my mind around signs
Posts, lamps, and lights
However I try to find
The original thought of mine
With no luck I proceed
To write new poems
Of unsung ideas
And forgotten seeds
–
I always seem to forget great ideas before I write them down. I seem to think that I can commit them to my failing memory – content with my attempts, then move on. Only to find out the next day, that those thoughts and inspirations have all but vanished. Leaving me at my desk looking for inspiration, so on some days my inspiration is the ideas lost among the other things in my life. Cheers and have a great day. ~N
Under the Empire sun
The city resets in the evening
Continual receiving
Thick lines run blurred into the night
The world centers herself
Around the NYC shelves
From Jackson Heights
To the Bushwick and Greenpoint
We held hands
As we felts our way
Through a city heralding a
Skyline
Heralding
The sun
We blink our eyes
Rub them dry
To see the Empire sun
Settle over the western sky
Over the east river
We await
Waiting
For yet another day
The smell of distant bleach
On fresh cleaned linens
This is the hotel room
That we will attempt to live in
–
Faded carpets with old stains
Attempts to clean them
Have obviously gone in vain
–
Paisley and plaid hung drapery
Old recliners
While we make our escape
From the city
–
Old cigarette stains
Outside the door
From someone long before
–
Shower curtains white
Fluffy and snug
With clean towels hung
Next to the rug
–
Life lived in hotel rooms
Find a different way
Of saying hello
Enjoy your stay
I never did it for money
I never did it for fame
I built my house on a rock
At least that’s my claim
In people I invested
All of my blood sweat and tears
Despite many fears
We have grown
For anyone else out there
Afraid to give to others
What is theirs
Yet
Live and love
Was never ours to give
Freely gained
Freely lived
So throw out love recklessly
With no abandoned
Just hoping it finds a soul
To land on
In our darkest hour
We must remember
We are never alone
In the end we will find
Along this sometimes lonely walk
That if we have friends
We build life on a rock
A Cup of Songwriting 