We build houses
Trees with farms
We hold them dear
We create our own opportunity
From the sparse earth
We pull new life
Our own life and growth
We give back
In this line of work
Make discoveries
On weathered farms
Hold Them Dear
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Tag Archives: videogames
Swollen Skies
Growing up
Under swollen skies
Making changes
In our parents eyes
Commitments made
Growing mistakes
We just have to do
Whatever it takes
I watch you grow
You watch me
We help each other stay
From as low as life
Can be
We wake up together
To see another day
Whether its the sun
Or the rain
We grew up under swollen skies
When the rain fell
It pulled the tears out of our eyes
Yet we pushed through
I get to see a new face
Through the rain anew
I am honored and proud
To be your husband
Under these dark rain clouds
Hard to Imagine
Its hard to imagine
Yet easy to see
Life grown
From sea to sea
City coast on eastern suns
To the simple life
Of farm living
What we see
Is what we are giving
The floors kept with field extras
Bugs, birds, dirt and all
We are held up
While the road calls
Be on your way
Where it takes us
Not for us to say
Fatal Direction
Enter fear and dismay
Enter the feelings of dissarray
Collapsing feeling of connection
Pushing me back in my fatal direction
I ask questions for circumstance
Happenstance of my direction
I fall on flat notes of musical indecision
Lacking a true rhythm section
We select naturally
What happens supernaturally
And exit stronger men
Evening Light Protection
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
Off the Cusp
Rock and roll
Get ready to go
Living on the farm
Just east of
South Bend, IN
The nights we pull
Playing bass going low
Making coffee with the morning
Singing songs
All heard and warming
92 degrees
No sight of water or seas
Here in Indiana
Summers warming up
On the farm
Living just off the cusp
Constant Race
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
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
The Empire Sun
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
Distant Bleach
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
A Cup of Songwriting 