8 March 2004 11:31 pm
The Journey
As I lay in the valley,
I opened my eyes and the dazzling light blinded me,
Yet I could see the halo of the sun overhead.
As I crawled toward the mountain,
I opened my fist and the piercing rocks cut me,
Yet I could feel the warmth of the earth below.
As I toddled toward the mountain,
I opened my mouth and the sour skin sickened me,
Yet I could taste the sweet nectar within.
As I walked toward the mountain,
I opened my nose and the thick smoke nauseated me,
Yet I could smell the fresh breeze above.
As I climbed the mountain,
I opened my ears and the screeching wind deafened me,
Yet I could hear the soothing melody ahead.
As I stood upon the summit,
I opened my heart and the mountain embraced me,
And gave my life a flame.
Cazenovia, New York
1992
I wrote this poem for an Advanced Placement (AP) English assignment. I'm not sure what the assignment was, but, based on reading this poem, perhaps it was related to multiple metaphors and parallel structure. I feel like this poem is unfinished and needs polishing. I probably ran out of time and had to submit it.
28 February 2004 9:03 pm
Sunshine Marble
A white rose covered with morning dew
Sparkles as crimson light of a spring sun
Refracts through transparent spheres and
Projects dappled rays upon gossamer petals.
Aroused by spring's morning essence
A turtle's head slowly emerges
And finds the white rose
Shimmering in spring's dawn.
The turtle warily approaches the shining rose;
As he nears a soft spring breeze blows
A sunshine marble from a petal which falls
And scares him back behind his staunch shield.
And he waits until another spring breeze
Gives him the courage to once again
Peek at the rose.
Cleveland, Ohio
1993
I wrote this poem for Carolyn very early on in our relationship. I presented it to her on Valentine's Day in 1993. I distinctly remember finessing the wording of the second to the last stanza in the recesses of Sears Library, which at the time was actually a library, on the Case campus. When we were married in 1999, we decided to share this poem with our family and friends. My brother read it during the ceremony and we included it in the program.
15 February 2004 5:08 pm
Three Trees
"Stop making my Father's house
Into a market place!" 1
Half a century ago
An idealistic young man
Planted a honey locust
Near His house.
Five years ago
Another idealistic young man
Planted four honey locusts
Near His house.
And the now old man
Prophesied to the younger,
"In fifty years you will return as I have
And see not one but four full grown.
And while watching the people rest
In the shade of their branches,
You will know that you have made a difference."
Today the young man returns;
The world has touched him with its cynicism
Yet he retains his youthful idealism.
He finds the threesome destroyed.
The idealist is saddened
For he understands not why;
For the cynic
The answer is blatant.
The idealist knows
Their branches had no tempting fruits 2,
Yet to the cynic
The rutted ground is tainted with the color of money.
The idealist knows
That no locust plague devoured the trees 3,
But to the cynic
We enslave ourselves to Mammon 4.
The idealist knows
That the first angel did not blow her horn to consume the trees 5,
Yet to the cynic
The mark of the Beast is upon us all 6.
The idealist knows
That no alter to another God has been erected where the trees once stood,
But to the cynic
The golden bull-calf is in our communities 7.
Why?
The trees were betrayed for a carnival,
A carnival that didn't even earn 30 pieces of silver 8.
The memorials of Chesser, Grime, and Bargabos.
Lie buried, rotting...
The idealist knows they have died
But hopes they will grow again.
He sees green shoots
Growing from the severed trunks;
To the cynic
They will never be the same.
He smirks at the thought of buying nature
To replace that which was destroyed.
And he knows that...
"Big Money got no soul." 9
Cleveland, Ohio
1993
1 John 2:16
2 Genesis 2:17
3 Exodus 10:12
4 Luke 16:13
5 Revelation 8:7
6 Revelation 13:17
7 Exodus 32:4
8 Matthew 26:15
9 N. Peart "Big Money"
Yes, I was a bit upset when I wrote this. In 1988, I completed my Eagle project. My project was to plant four trees and a number of shrubs and install a couple of benches in the lot next to the church that I attended. Five years later, while I was away at college, the church that I attended held a carnival to raise funds. In order to hold this carnival, someone decided to cut down three of the four trees that I planted. Reportedly, the carnival didn't raise much money. Not that it would make a difference if it did.
Even back when I wrote this I realized that I am a cynical idealist. Since then, I've refined my understanding and now realize that, in general, I am cynical about the past and idealistic about the future. For me, this division is preferable to the reverse which would be quite depressing. Not that I really have a choice....
The picture, from 1998, is of the surviving honey locust tree; it is even larger now. In the upper-right corner, the branch from the older honey locust is visible. Mr. Walter Parsons planted the older honey locust over 65 years ago. One of my finest memories of my Eagle project is him commenting to me that someday my trees will be as large as the one that he planted and I will watch people enjoying their shade. While it has been fifteen rather than fifty years, I have enjoyed watching people enjoy the tree. The tree is currently holding a yellow ribbon for each of the military personnel that are related to the church and serving in Iraq.
6 February 2004 12:55 pm
His Word
my best friend:
i felt as close to as possible.
a new friend:
i thought different.
another person:
i barely knew at all.
but one night,
through many hours,
through many tears,
with shaking limbs,
He showed me that which
no speaker can preach
and no book can tell.
He showed me:
a closeness, never felt before;
a brotherhood, indefinable;
a friendship, unbreakable;
and a community built upon His Word.
Cleveland, Ohio
1992-1996
Spiritually, as well as in general, I'm a very private person. However, since I've decided to post my poetry more or less indiscriminately, I'm including this one. This poem was inspired by an incredible all-night discussion with three friends at Case, the kind one only seems to have in college. For those of you who have had a similar experience, this poem will be more meaningful than for others.
31 January 2004 5:48 pm
Out the Looking Window (reprise)
As I look out the window of my English room
Wishing that the day would be over soon.
I see the concrete and the brown sod
That make up this nature -- a material quad;
The fiber optics that run through the pipes;
The phones on the poles and the flickering lights.
No sun, nor stars, do I observe;
Just the gray haze of Cleveland that I don't deserve.
I yearn for white snow, crab grass, and stars,
But here the night's dark with the smog of those cars.
Eyes to the ground, I walk back through this hell.
Back to my house where I work and I dwell;
To hope my dreams, like a childhood song
Take me back home, to where I belong.
Cleveland, OH
1994
While working on my computer engineering degree at Case (formally known as Case Western Reserve University whose motto actually was "a tradition of excellence even longer than our name"), I was required to take a single English course, technical writing. I think one of the early assignments was to write something, anything. Again, at the time, I probably thought it ironic to write about looking out the window of the classroom. I also probably thought it ironic to write a poem for a technical writing assignment. Regardless, this is the Cleveland version of the "Out the Looking Window" poem. Cleveland has a lot to offer, but it can't compare to upstate New York for me.
29 January 2004 8:08 pm
Out the Looking Window
As I look out the window of my English room,
Knowing that the day will be over soon,
I see the sparrow and the chickadee
Dance on the branches of the big oak tree.
I see the chain fence that imprisons the dog,
The squirrel sitting on the log,
The grass that sways in the gentle wind;
I see the clouds that look at you and grin,
And the old large home on Green Street,
And in the background the waving wheat.
Then I hear the old school bell ring,
Ending the happiness that the window brings.
Cazenovia, New York
1985 or 1986
So far, I've been posting poems in reverse chronological order. I'm deviating from that pattern since this poem is somewhat of a prerequisite for the next poem that I will post. I wrote this poem as an English class assignment in sixth grade. At the time, I probably thought it was ironic that the topic is about looking out the window during English class.
27 January 2004 9:27 pm
Software
In the end what is there?
Is its expression nothing more
than billions of birds in flight illuminating the phosphor plane as they escape forever?
Is its thought nothing more
than a sustained stream twisting and turning through the silicon canals?
Is its legacy nothing more
than a landscape of peaks and valleys preserved in plastic; ever awaiting the light of the laser sun?
I sit watching the birds fly through the plane,
imagining the streams flowing,
listening to the landscape spin beneath the sun,
and yet there is nothing to touch, to feel, to hold...
So I go outside and splash barefoot in a babbling brook,
feeling the cold crisp water and the perfect pebbles between my toes.
San Francisco, California
1998
A number of my poems are influenced by science and technology. This one reflects on the dichotomy of my technology-focused aspirations and nature-focused inclinations and on my difficulty in finding a balance. I wrote this poem on a napkin in the Thirsty Bear brew pub, whose beers and tapas I would highly recommend, during MacWorld San Francisco.
25 January 2004 1:25 pm
kittle lid
big belly bulging
kittle lid kicks, pokes, punches
we three wait anxious
Naperville, Illinois
October 2003
I wrote this for Carolyn for our wedding anniversary. Obviously, Dylan was the inspiration. Since we didn't know if Dylan was a boy or a girl, we called him "kittle lid." I'm not sure if that name came from the Capitol Steps' Lirty Dies or my high school Spanish teacher.
20 January 2004 9:33 pm
Snowdon
A cold wind blows rain;
walkers, heads down, slowly climb
up to Eryri.
Stretton, Staffordshire, England
January 2003
Dad, Mom, Grant, Carolyn, and I climbed Snowdon (Eryri is the Welsh name), the highest peak in Wales, on New Years Day 2003. It was cold, cloudy, and windy all the way to the top. The sun finally broke through the clouds as we were heading back down.
