Poems to Read

“Time to Go”

Bars,
even if forged of braided gold,
are still bars.
And being locked inside is death to the soul.
God came to set us free,
not build a prison
and expect those with faith
to file in.
Structure, form, and commitment
keep us knit together.
But only if they enhance the bonds of
love,
not serve as a substitute.
When rules and religious reasons
replace love, grace and passion
another prison cell is filled.

— A poem by Delilah

“Delilah's Girls”

In the dim light of dawn, he can see her tired face
Exhausted from a year of worry, all she wanted was an embrace

She thought about her heartache
But now all she could think about was her wedding cake

As he began to whisper in her ear
He saw there was no more fear, just a lonely tear

He holds her tightly, as the single tear becomes a flood
He knows there will be no more blood

She grips his shirt sleeve, just under the small American flag
She knows soon he will remove his name tag

There will be no more fighting
Or letter writing

He is no longer at war
He has just arrived at her door

— A poem by listener David

Untitled

Your world was flat.
You had never been over the horizon,
Fear of falling off kept you safe in the harbor.
But ships were not meant to remain
Safe, tied to a pier.
Nor was your heart meant to remain
Tied to obligations.

Now you have sailed out of the harbor
And into uncharted seas.
You did not fall off when you passed
Beyond the horizon
And you have seen beautiful creatures from the deep and
clouds form
angels In the air.

Why are you so afraid to sail where the wind doth blow?
Wherever it takes you will be far more fulfilling than the
pier that was once your prison.

— A poem by Delilah

Quotes

“When we hurt each other we should write it down in the sand, so the winds of forgiveness can make it go away for good. When we help each other we should chisel it in stone, lest we never forget the love of a friend.”

— Christian H. Godefroy

"Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life."

— Berthold Auerbach (German poet, 1812-1882)

“Reality”

Today the winds raged,
the waters surged,
and like a child's baton,
a tree is tossed high into the air.

Yesterday that child played
with her baton in the back yard
while her brother rode his bike
down a quiet driveway to the park.
Her mother washed clothes
and fussed at the grass stains on her white shorts.
Chicken was served with white rice,
the kids' complained that they had to eat broccoli.

Normal quarrels
mosquito bites,
skinned knees,
and tuna with miracle whip...

In less time than it takes to bake home made bread
life changed forever.

When will we realize
life is too short
to waste it
watching
reality shows?

— A poem by Delilah

“Unused Fear”

I wake my kids at night,
open their windows
To hear the coyotes howl.
It's eerie and beautiful;
a symphony tuning up
Or a lover mourning.

I jump off the balcony
into the snow
Forgetting there might be rocks.
Ride the rapids in a boat filled with air,
ride the horses in the rain
Down the mountain side.

Fear is a concept I read about,
see on my daughter's face before
a crowd
Or my son's when a spider crawls.

I've not experienced it much myself,
but when I picture
life without you,
I make up for the times
I rode too fast
and forgot to be afraid.

— A poem by Delilah

“Communion”

Unbutton your pressed shirt,
Roll up the sleeves.
Tuck a napkin under your chin.

Use your hands.
Stop only to savor
and breathe.

For once in your life
satisfy the starvation
that lives in your soul.

Swallow the seeds or

spit them on the ground...
Tear my flesh.
Suck the marrow from my bones.
Devour me.
My love is not a wafer
pressed on your tongue to dissolve,
but a hot loaf of bread...
An entire bottle of aged wine.
Drink until I course through your veins
and mingle with your own blood.

For once in your life
don't touch
the knife and fork
or ask to be excused.

— A poem by Delilah

“The Lighthouse”

Their weathered faces,
leathered skin
and broken teeth
matched the smell
of cigarettes and fish scales
that walked before them like a sentinel.

They hauled in tuna,
salmon and flounder.
Dumped them in bins of ice at my feet
and laughed as they strung
their nets and drank black coffee
from a battered red thermos.

When the lunch bell rang
I put down my fillet knife
and joined them on the docks.
Drawn to their deft hands
that seemed to have eyes
to find the holes and repair them
in a flash of aqua string.

I watched and listened
to the stories of the sea.
Between the swearing and
coughing
I found wisdom as deep as the ocean
from which they seemed to be born.

"In the fog and mist,
when your boat disappears between
waves as tall as the evergreen,
look to the shore"
he said with a glint in his remaining good eye.

"Don't look back or to the side.
Pick a point on the shore and head there.
When the waves toss and turn,
keep your eyes fixed on the same spot,
and don't give up.
If there is a lighthouse
or just a candle in a window on a hill,
focus on that and make your mind
to stay the course."

I learned how to fillet a salmon,
and can tuna.
I learned how to survive the roughest seas,
though I never ventured
out in their wooden boats.

Now I am lost at sea
in the midst of crashing waves.
And you have doused the light
in the window,
I have no compass to find my bearings.

The fog has not lifted
and I am crying more
than the clouds that shroud me.

If I am dashed upon the rocks
I know it was not the fault of
the light keeper...

I am the one who set sail
despite the black skies
warning of a storm...

— A poem by Delilah

“My Forest”

A Douglas fir tree...
Straight grain,
tall and, proud.
Winter, spring, summer, fall-
ever green,
never changing.

When the winds blow,
you bow not.
Nor do you break.
Your branches
are tucked close to your body,
and you stand
majestic
and ignore the storm.

While nearby a
Maple grows.

Meandering roots
clinging to rocks,
thirsty for water,
and minerals,
and life...
Twisting branches
that spread wide to reach for the sun,
and the earth,
and the fir.
Winter, spring, summer, fall,
brilliant colors,
ever changing.
Knotted grain,
strong as steel,
but broken
in a storm.
This one sways gently
when the winds blow cold,
safely sheltered
in the shadow
of the evergreen.

— A poem by Delilah

“The Sun and the Rain and the Apple Seed...”

My kids love to watch
"Johnny Appleseed"
just as I did when I was young.

When Johnny plants
the small, brown seeds
and moves on to another town,
another valley
another mountain
he does so in faith.

Knowing that eventually
the seeds will grow
into saplings
and the saplings into trees
and the trees will bear fruit.

Not over night to be sure,
but with each sunrise
and each rain storm
the tree grows a little taller,
a little stronger
and the apples
are a little sweeter.

Some things,
like apple seeds
and answers to
complicated situations
take time.

But the delicious
taste, pure and sweet,
makes the wait
bearable.

— A poem by Delilah

“Why I Love the Ocean”

A single drop
of rain
Streaks my window pane,
slides to the ground,
Mingles with thousand that
Proceeded before.

They come together,
Form a stream
and race towards the lowest part of my yard...

Moments earlier the
Silver globe was part of a dark cloud,
bursting with heavy exhaustion,
emptying itself
over my domain.

Moments later, the
solitary drop
scurries on to the creek
that winds to the sound
and finally to the sea.
The circle is complete.

Since time began
the drop
finds its way home
to the infinite ocean.
Likewise, my heart returns always
to you.

— A poem by Delilah

“I Love Chaos”

A cell phone,
A business card,
Crumbled crackers in a zip-lock bag,
Burnt gold lipstick,
A camel-hair paint brush
And crumpled bills
Spill from my purse
As I catch the leather strap
On the car door.

I have a bigger bag,
But decided against it as my back hurts
When I race in heels
Carrying papers I never have time to read.

I can't sit still in a meeting
Even those I conduct.
I lost my drivers license
Hell, I can't find my car
Forgetting which level I parked on.

My jeans are stained
And my fingernails broken from having
My hands in clay long past midnight.

But my son
Had a green power ranger drawn on his lunch bag:
The son they said could not succeed,
Who reads and runs and wins every race.

And one day people will
Tell stories of the messes I made
And the songs I sang off-key,
And the boxes filled with meaningless articles
And a million memories.

But a few will know that amidst
The chaos,
They were the reason
Behind the poems
And the songs
And the paintings
And the sweet potato pie
And the smile that I wear on my
Face and in my heart.

They will know that the chaos was merely
A by-product
Of a life lived with passion
And filled to the brim with love
Too big to be neatly contained.

— A poem by Delilah

“A Child's Birth”

You learn a lot about living when a child is born.

You learn that pain can overwhelm and overtake and you wonder how your own mother survived.
You clench your fists and tear the sheets as life, entering life, tears your flesh.
And the moment you hold that tiny miracle, your heart rips open in a way you never knew before.
Your flesh will heal in time. You lie bleeding, not your flesh so much as your soul.
You know that every minute of every hour of every day you will be consumed with love.
And fear is the unwelcome guest that will ride upon love's new wings.

You touch your now-empty belly and mourn the life you once had all to yourself.
You hold this life, naked flesh to naked flesh. Nurse them to your breast,
rejoice that you can still provide what they need to survive....

You close your eyes and clutch their tiny fingers as they form to yours.
And in your heart you know
that one day they will not be yours to hold
and you feel the tearing of your soul go even deeper.....

And again you wonder how your own mother survived.
How her sanity remained when her child was no more......

You learn a lot about living when a child is born.

— A poem by Delilah

“This is the beginning of a new day. You have been given this day to use as you will. You can waste it or use it for good. What you do today is important because you are exchanging a day of your life for it. When tomorrow comes, this day will be gone forever; in its place is something that you have left behind... let it be something good.”

— Author Unknown