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Gathering wood as a cold dusk descends, A crisp October 'neath a powdered sky, Carolina mountains, so the day ends, Beside a fire you pause to wonder why. Staring together at glowing embers, Then both looking up at the milky way, You look at her and hope she remembers, After the embers have faded away. For you know there'll be nights colder than this, And shadows that thought cannot apprehend, When the only thing you can do is miss, Wondering why beside your campfire friend. For hard work is part of all that is good, And I look forward to gathering wood. |
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Mountain peaks amidst October's glory, I pause at the pinnacle, touch the point, I tread lightly, leave with but a story, with the fleeting view these words I annoint. A field of rasberries, fourth of July, For a moment I lose her amongst the rows, Serene green 'neath the Carolina sky, Silent, windless still, in my heart it grows. Surging Hatteras surf in December, Standing beyond the breakers on my board, I often voyage here to remember, The tranquil sublimity of the Lord. These are the places I pause, stand in awe, Of man's freedom under Natural Law. |
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Set sail searching for the land of meaning, Where love endured and promises were kept, Where God inspired the mystical dreaming, Words captured secrets misty May nights wept. Where character mattered, the truth triumphed, A generation knew love once again, By virtuous actions vile thoughts were trumped, Late Misty May nights were captured in pen. Rock'n'roll replaced by the rock of ages, Contexts nobler than mere pictures and sound, With Shakespeare, Melville, all the silent sages, Eternal forms, the permanent profound. Those things ye seek, ye'll find within yer will, For that is where I found Kill Devil Hill. |
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Carolina sky, cutting edge of rock, On top of the world, the blue ridge mountains, She touches me-- soaring right there's a hawk, Stationary-- on the thermal fountains. Unpromised promises, understood pledge, In parallel, silent understanding, So close that words would only be a wedge, Always there and yet never demanding. Shared belief and quiet fascination, Appreciation of the subtle things, Curious about an explanation, Yet knowing without the hawk spreads his wings. Not what you intend, but how you play it, True love is never having to say it. |
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To conserve the greatest for our children, To pass along that for which men have died, To protect the treasures set down in pen, Where dreams nobler than Nature have been tried. To respect the earth, leave it a better place, Silently salute the the roadside flower, To tread lightly and leave without a trace, Where the human touch could only sour. O beauty of man, beauty of nature, Both have a face; only one has a soul, one's forever fated to write literature, while the other plays the indifferent role. The one that can conserve, conserve they must, Though seasons change, pious souls shall not rust. |
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Caught in the breakers, in the air I fly, Towards wild white surf kissing shimmering sand. Wind snaps the sail taught, the waves I defy, Yet I'm drawn towards the line where water meets land, For we only know one by the other, The black words defined by the white borders, As indifferent nature is man's mother, Chaos emboldens the rarer order. And out on that board I feel so alone, In the blue, greeted by but reflection, It's by nature our uniqueness is known, Fleeting beauty caught by time's direction. Words are but the immortal part of me, Struggling from the fleeting thought to break free. |
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Woodsmoke in the wind, the chill in the air, Out in the Carolina countryside, I left behind the things that weren't there, The things in which the pedants take great pride. I'm seeing that which astronomers miss, Feeling what the deconstructionists hide, An autumn walk, thinking about a kiss, Knowing that I've got all I need inside. A belief in God, a faith in the true, The things which science needs you to disown, Ineffable happiness, solemn rue, The things without which nothing could be known. Eternity's wisdom would not be heard, Without poet soldiers wielding the word. |
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I've come not to appease, but to appall, To pass judgement and differentiate, Imagination's sword drawn, standing tall, I've come to seal the postmodernist's fate. Not with criticism but with poetry, I don't fight the fog, but I light the light, To mark the boundary between rocks and sea, To mark the Truth in this postmodern night. I've come not to attack, but to defend, A generation's sacred heritage, Though you deny us, you won't put an end, To the honest poet's beautiful rage. I've come to exalt, raise, and resurrect, To honor, love, pray, forgive, and protect. |
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