Tag Archives: nate hoff

Over a Cup of Tea

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The morning rests soft

Easy speaking and waking slow

The summer breeze rustles

Through the soft flower leaves

Change has its way of breaking me

Lowering my tolerance for what is coming

Arise to life’s challenges yet

One by one

I hope my buffer for new will not come undone

I have heard stories of burn outs

Giving up

I know that the roads we create

Are not easy or clear

But what we do

We do for love

My dear

Sudden change is what we fear most

Life’s swelling waves

In a small fishing boat

Bail out the water

Keeping our heads above the sea

It’s a commitment we made

A long time ago

Over a cup of Darjeeling Tea

 

 

 

The Summer of Farewells

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There we were

The last night on the farm

The summer of farewells

Sun setting soft in the clouds

That lie just above the horizon

Air light and easy

Wind calm subtle yet breezy

So many memories made over months

Lived on the farm

Time to move on

No reason to hold on

Holding on too tight

Will only make it difficult to let go

So pack up our bags

And lets hit the road

Here in Front of Me

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Everything I need is right here in front of me

My hands, eyes, hope, desire

Everything I can use to bring myself higher

Hard work is the barrier

Constraining my own ethic

I feel that I have now realized this simple truth

What you focus on grows

What you forget about goes away with old

So I must refocus on what is in front of me

All the tools I need

Are surrounding me

Asking me

I will answer

Summers Waning Pace

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Summer wanes

Like an early bird song in the morning

Warming and warning

We heed like leaves awaiting the fall

For changes that will come

Our lives will adjust with seasons

Waxing and waning

All the time anticipating the future

Holding dear to the past and present

We are old enough now

To realize if you look too much ahead

You will be left with future regret

Holding hands

Kissing lips

We await this changes with fires now dim lit

Summers waning pace has tapered off with the months

Cooling heads and sending us off

How I hold the present tight

But know that just letting go

Will be alright

The Roaming Misfit

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Some details are always secret

Frustrating and deliberate

Held back with animosity

Towards the roaming misfit

Truth is never quite told

Lies sleekly avoided

News spread through lies spun

Then voided

I hope to deal with such grace

That I can overcome dealing with

The real face

Of a roaming misfit

Hold my tongue in place

For when he shows up to my door

Waiting for the embrace

I will hold back the words true and harsh

Hoping for something more contained and smart

But the webs we weave

Some to build

Others to deceive

I know this now more than before

So I will smile with reserve

When this man shows up to my door

 

Creating Context

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No one will sing my song

Others create

Borrow or steal

But my voice sings my life story

It must be from my own lips

Sung

Creating context for understanding this mess

Owning these words whether they be of beauty

Or of restlessness

It is my mission to create my story

No other hands have created

This life of simple strands

Woven around complex webs

Of inner circle steps

So no one will push my pen

My life’s commitment to the end

To be committed and honest

So I can be fully created

Life, lived, created lines

Easy or frustrated

 

Discount Advice

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Discount advice

Should not weight more than

A grain of rice

Be thought over

More than

The passing thoughts in flight

We do not subscribe

To your tele-vibe

Confide in your free laced advice

We create our own paths

From present to past

And we

Will live on

Evening Light Protection

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Straight lines of mint on county line roads

Staring out seeing dark tree shadows

Making their ways under sprinklers cold

Grass with a golden glow

Waiting the next rainfall or evening glisten

Animals waiting for exceptions

To sneak in under evening light protections

I see the evening run light rails

Hollering trains understated call hails

We wait the train coming out bustling

Heading winds with certain flow

The farms lull me to sleep

Eyes closed in summers keep

 

Constant Race

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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

Intermitten the Skies

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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

 

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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