Moments
Poetry from the 1970s by Ron Alan Pierce
The Book of Love I Miss You If I'd Known Return Boating Canals of Sand Maybe Despair Whippoorwords Honor New Year's The Rose Rusty Souls Welcome Home Sunset Slower Stop ButterFlower
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On my desk the book of love lies dusty, old, forgotten; I left it there, a million words on paper partly cotton; Because, one day, I recognized that words just can't convey; But touches, smiles, and shining eyes say all there is to say
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Morning softness holds the trees Cotton clouds sun-fed breeze
Oh how I wish your waking sighs Also met my morning eyes
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If I'd known of yesterday before tomorrow came and went I'd still agree time with you could not be any better spent
I don't know where you are now if tomorrow's slipping by Is -- was -- may be -- but I know times with you just need no why
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In the darkness of the light a shadow brushed against my soul I saw a tandem in the night and touched a moment of my goal
Within the thirst of melting ice a waterfall of molten fire Caressed a wind of dancing waves exploding in a white desire
And then before the night of dawn we lay there shifting in the sands While Saturn's frown upon the fawn said No, you can't go holding hands
So then became our separate ways we went to places coming to 'Til now we find a two-way mirror says hi to me and hi to you
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Do as you will but don't impose your will on what others do
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Things are floating ever floating ever blending so sublime
It's nice boating so nice boating endless rivers of my time
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Life can be a map of oft-traveled paths circling like canals of sand with no end and no out
And only a vision borne by desire growing like caterpillar wings can fly you free
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Excitement is an endless pursuit; Contentment a timeless joy
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Maybe --- when you are a queen of your universe and I am a king of mine
Maybe --- we'll both have found love on different paths I on yours with you on mine
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A circle has no ends A moment has no bends
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My soul is like a thousand hands all reaching, wanting, needing touch all finding naught but emptiness; It's tough to live and feel this much
My life is like a thousand books all part written, all part-read I sometimes feel "Well, why go on --- enough's been written, enough said."
But no, I think I understand there's still one thing I haven't done; I must reduce my hands to two put all the books into just one
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Whippoorwords
Whippoorwills are poet's wings and whippoorwords are subtle things that dance away through mist and rain like poet's words go down the drain
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In throes of woes are those who chose to close the rose of flows
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It's morning, and a misty fog is a thousand sparkling kisses helping awaken my spirit to a new day and a new year
Each breath slides brightly through my nose as grandeur of the the silent trees reminds me that they are the source of all the life in air we breathe
I wonder --- do we give to them? of else except a fireplace in homes built of them too? If so, what is it that we do?
The morning birds dance through the air a squirrel roams for food that's free and laughter rides my vapor breath --- I think that they know more then we!
Ah, well, perhaps the year will dawn when all life dances unawares there ever could have been a time when selves were all of human's cares
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The manifestation of ignorance is best perpetrated by the sound of one's own voice
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If you move too fast you won't see a leaf in the Fall the dew on the grass the intricate web of another's life
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Sharing someone else's feeling is even more joyous than experiencing your own
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Welcome home --- I've missed your spirit a gusty breeze which carries life of laughter, tears, and love --- welcome home.
Welcome home --- I've missed your touch with dancing eyes that show your love of feelings old and new --- welcome home.
Welcome home --- I've missed your presence an afterglow that winds around the beauty in your soul --- Welcome home!
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Honor is a lonely hunter clothed with virtue walking barefoot on the thorns of humanity
A lonely breeze among the trees touching and soothing reassuring limbs buffeted by the storm
A hunter now, but a thorn before that must not forget how lucky it was to have been stepped upon
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Rusty souls reawakened spread the morning light diffuse the shadow night embrace life once again
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Stop the noise and you will hear your own music
Stop your own music and you will hear the music of others
Stop, now and you will hear the music of the universe
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As the sun reached down to touch the sea the cirrus puffs ran slowly eastward across the darkening sky (to meet the rising sun?)
My new friends, we'd never met before these glowing oakwood coals; Once white, soon purple, then to black just time to say hello
A twinkling star said "here I am" and others came to view; Their time had come (and would again) old friends I'd seen before
But when I looked for my new friends their little journey's end had come and just a lonely wisp remained of memories upon my soul
New friends, I'd seen them live and die; I turned to go, but raised my eyes and looked once more at my old friends who'd see my journey's end
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There is more to do than there is to say
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A butterfly is like a day coming, here, then gone; A little warmth, a brief hello on, to meet the dawn
A flower's like a gentle song whisp'ring "Come to me" A voice that says "I cannot move" hoping you will see
A butterfly is like a breeze riding on the air A breath of life that leaves the trees dancing here and there
A flower's like a subtle touch reaching deep within A soothing ripple leaving peace everywhere its been
A butterfly is like the night awesome mystery A twinkling hint of aeons past aeons yet to be
A flower's like a shining light color's ecstasy Showing nature's strongest force --- perfect symmetry
A butterfly is like a smile on, then off in haste Ah, to know the secret that would keep it in its place!
A flower's like an inner calm sanctum sanctorum A centered soul, a power-bond crystallized in one
When butterfly and flower meet echoing their call Look there! See how the flower's left? Standing, proud and tall!
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You will find moments everywhere you search for them
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