Lend Me a Word

Lend me a word and I’ll share with you
a thought, a rhythm, a poem, a tune;
A question on which to contemplate
which’ll make our meeting feel like fate.

I’ll share a psalm, a song to sing.
By fateful stranger, you will bring
yourself into a vernacular story
of wisdom, love, death, and glory.

For somehow when you share with me
your word – your eyes – I will see
a world of love and kempt emotions,
quiet lies, secret devotions.

But do not fear for I will care
for your word and story,
as my goal is to share
with the wanting soul before me.

So lend me a word, I’ll bless your ears,
I’ll write to you so you may hear
the beauty that’s in every gust
of wind, of breathe, of quiet – of love.

Back Story: At least once a week, I ask a stranger for a word which I use as the theme for a poem. Typically I will gift the poem forward to the next stranger I meet. So, what should my next word be?

Windy

With taut sails, hair to curl,
dancing waves, flags to twirl;
blowing souls path to path
in direction of off the tracks.

Victims to, fortunes made,
lives to take – souls to save.
Get lost with me, but just today –
I’ll guide you til’ the morning.

For one day soon you’ll wonder where
I have gone, no path to share,
and take to directions set
in search of where we first met.

May then we’ll meet again
as you walk the path I laid,
and bring forward a different man
than the first time we swayed.

For if you do, my kiss will feel
like the comfort of a lover.
If you don’t, you’ll cry my name,
yet, in search of another.

And so I blow, day and night,
searching for souls to guide,
as my breathe is the greatest gift
I could ever hope to give you.

For you, Mom.

Kaiserschmarrn-amalamadingdong

With taut backs and tempered laughs,
ten km’s – no more.
Fate happed on a stranger’s path
from which we took our course.
Into gulch, and valley, mulch,
through river, into rain –
in search of inspiration,
and adventure – with a plan.

And crossing paths, we found (again)
a seeker in the night, drying by the fire
to his pure delight.
With a smile painted by the pyre –
his feet were bruised and wanting more.
In discretion – we talked upon
the aides and ails of the world.
Until he said, in the dark –
“May I hap upon you more?”

With the toss of a coin
he bummed a ride to town;
wasn’t the waterfall crossing nuff’
to straighten this nomad sound?
But laugh we did with eyes rolled,
our packs became light –
eating pasta, bellies full,
drinking into night.
So much so that he said again
“May I hap upon you more?”

And to the Sound we took at speed,
chasing, in the rain.
Again, talking quite a bit
about life and plans.
Greeted by waterfalls, giggling all the way:
we shared in gay occasion
as we took into the rain.
And soon the seeker seemed a bit
settled in his place.

Off the road and out of gas,
to the boonies, we ran a flat,
back to home – into the kitchen –
the lights fell to remission.

And as we drank, and ate, and drank –
questions came and went.
We delved a little deeper to
what many circumvent.
Crazy theories with wanting more,
origin stories aiding deep pours.
So much so the mood did shift;
how far we had come,
and better yet – how quick.
So much so, to the stranger, said –
“May we hap upon you more?”

And with cakes, we shared again
the last laughs that we’d take
with the kindly stranger that
bummed a ride to town,
and tossed a coin,
and cooked a meal,
and shared his crazy sounds.

And so is the tale of Routeburn,
how sad it must conclude –
wishing our newfound friend
well until we resume.

Perhaps wiser, certainly fuller,
on questions to contemplate,
as this nomad was a little crazy
but our meeting seemed like fate.

2/15/18

I’ve met some girls;
they seem nice –
their smiles glow;
it livens mine.
Perhaps I should
investigate
a little more about them.

2/19/18

It went well,
I learned a bit.
But I’ve said too much
and so I seek again.

– For Conny and Nora –