Between a Poem and a Reflection

I brought my misery and discomfort down to the water.

Washing the pain.

As if it were both sane and insane.

Rolling it over.

Caressing all sides.

A loose hallucinogenic thought from my…forever tousled head.

Death, be not a, pebble or diamond…

That is mulled over in the rough.

Neither fractured.

Or, whole.

No matter, how minuscule.

Just a stone in Mother Nature’s fold.

A pyre to the edges of nowhere…

Ashes to dust.

Glacier to granite to simple coal.

Sweet and salty remembrances.

Shattered and whole.

Such meditative collections of, loss and death.

Infinitely too much for my human intake.

Thus, with precious stone, in hand.

I gave a toss to roving waters.

A physical attempt to disperse the grief.

And, with a shy landing,

ripples ensued.

Setting into motion…

Life as it collides.

With both the light and the dark, sides.

dedicated to Janice Bowley – 10/1940 – 5/2017

There is a road, no simple highway
Between the dawn and the dark of night.

Ripple/ the Grateful Dead

the Great Conceal-er, the Great Confessor

Sometimes, I ran so fast; My place in time, became lost.  Stone walls, broken ten speeds and placebo drugs.  Inhibitions that covered the truth of emotional abuse by the adoption of booze, blotter and smoke.

Though, the city-scape had always been, an abandoned countryside.  My skyscrapers, as a child, were pines, years and centuries, in the making.

To date, I can hear the footfalls, the gravel traffic jams, the sandy over washed roadways…that came raining down in sound.  Sounds of silence so loud;

Lulls from the yells became thunderous.

Music has forever been the great conceal-er of pain.  The great confessor of someone else’s crimes…Crimes of ill placed, angry, fist clenched passion.


‘We need music.  Not sure why!  Just as we need, ceremony.  Mirth, passion, rebirth, death…a manner in which to box the rain.’     RandomwordbyRuth

Box of Rain

Look out of any window
Any morning, any evening, any day
Maybe the sun is shining
Birds are winging or
Rain is falling from a heavy sky,
What do you want me to do,
To do for you to see you through?
For this is all a dream we dreamed
One afternoon long ago
Walk out of any doorway
Feel your way, feel your way
Like the day before
Maybe you’ll find direction
Around some corner
Where it’s been waiting to meet you,
What do you want me to do,
To watch for you while you’re sleeping?
Well please don’t be surprised
When you find me dreaming too

Look into any eyes
You find by you, you can see
Clear through to another day
Maybe been seen before
Through other eyes on other days
While going home,
What do you want me to do,
To do for you to see you through?
It’s all a dream we dreamed
One afternoon long ago

Walk into splintered sunlight
Inch your way through dead dreams
To another land
Maybe you’re tired and broken
Your tongue is twisted
With words half spoken
And thoughts unclear
What do you want me to do
To do for you to see you through
A box of rain will ease the pain
And love will see you through

Just a box of rain,
Wind and water,
Believe it if you need it,
If you don’t just pass it on
Sun and shower,
Wind and rain,
In and out the window
Like a moth before a flame

And it’s just a box of rain
I don’t know who put it there
Believe it if you need it
Or leave it if you dare
And it’s just a box of rain
Or a ribbon for your hair
Such a long long time to be gone
And a short time to be there

Ripple Monday

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Ripple Monday…

Today, something borrowed, something New England ice blue and

a little something for a harried world to hold onto!

Don’t get too lost in all I say…


If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine. And, my tunes were played on the harp

unstrung. Would you hear my voice come through the music?

Would you hold it dear as if it were your own?

It’s a hand-me down, the thoughts are broken. Perhaps, they’re better

left unsung.

I don’t know. Don’t really care.

Let there be songs to fill the air.

Ripple in still water. When there is no pebble tossed. Nor wind to blow.

Reach out your hand if your cup be empty. If your cup is full may it be again.

Let it be known there is a fountain; that was not made

by the hands of men.

There is a road, no simple highway. Between the dawn and

the dark of night.

And, if you go

no one may follow. That path is for your steps alone.

You who choose to lead…must follow. But if you fall…you fall alone.

If you should stand then who is to guide you?

If I knew the way I would take you home!

Have a very fruitful day!


WE love you Jerry…Wish you were here to steer!

*lyrics by Jerry Garcia, Ripple