Antiquated trails
kissed by fantasy
I began my sagas climb along antiquated
trails tracking faint sighs through a distance until
snowy moonlight mellowed with the rising bleus of
dawn pausing only for to think a second near the
cool lonesome river leaving little time for
thought of eat or drink living
flashed by like a
passing spirit
in the night
alive only to
begin to die stalked
silently on the glades of dales
death shaded slightly by winters withered
trees that helped little against the penetrating
freeze there I wove a coat of warm candled
dreams which whispered on tongues of
secret thymes other days rolled
on rhythms of rhymes
fighting for life and
limb across deep nervous
chasms within while the blood
brown grass fought the blizzard
snows and ‘ol Wisdom of his
years said some things but
none would ever
know.
(C) 2000 Dale Wayne Van Sickle Gwaltney
* * *
Attitude
With well
worn attitude of musical career I had all but left
my dreams so dear it wasn’t ‘til mother died my music
cried I could no longer play without a tear in eye in states
still filled in awesome and shock I never even thought
what my music had wrought looking through bleu
oceans of gale and tear I was amazed
to see crowds crying
looking
where failed
visits of emotions mirroring
aft on me and so a Dale now realized
there was more to be and I knew mother
would of been proud of me yet it’s still a
mystique quandary to sing today and
because of thus gotten harder to
play how could people
joy in tears
through any
such I
say.
(C) 2000 Dale Wayne Van Sickle Gwaltney
* * *
Penned Promises
there’s a lonely old
lady who lives inside a small residence
ignored by most the neighbors that don’t attempt
to talk to her but o’er a picketed fence the room is so
small it barely accommodates her very few pieces of
furniture a large upright oak piano with her chair
and lined bookshelve stacked with old books
and poems at the top of her desk next
to a lamp is a photograph in a
lucid worthless frame the picture
is part of a nightly ritual where tears are
shed over it and then it is carefully polished and
placed back into the glow of the lamp the posture of the
photo is very crucial there mustn’t be a glare upon the glass
to obscure the words in the bottom right corner where it says “I
love you” her eyes stare at the photograph the black and white of
long ago still feeling their hearts enmeshed in silence yet she hears
his laughter her eyes don’t wander far from the image through the
glass though they freely flow with tears for there’s never been
an answer to those troubled years she’s penned them all
with promises of heaven in the spring where they’ll
dance on wandering stars where lovers’
hearts take wing.
In her youth she sang to me of an
old woman with silvery hair who rocked
all alone in an old rocking chair... It never
did come true, but ironically enough it’s
my dad all alone in that old rocking’
chair looking at her empty desk
just sitting
there.
(C) 2000 Dale Wayne Van Sickle Gwaltney
* * *
Not Even A Stone To Know
It was only some
years or so ago and yet Nobodi was the
only left to know the place he remembered the
sting long ago along with sinful confessions balloon
of woe which after times of thought he sanctioned a
place near mother’s spot they’re there lying
as motionless as Lucky’s still peace
while weigh fearing strangers
sauntered through and
in many tears spoke yet
words were few scattered in pieces
while wind spirits flew through June lying
lowly blew where they listed and lit where
e’er they chose never recollecting such
ways of directions to use as instinct
seemed to know the way from
memory but he wandered
yet further how...
could it
be.
(C) 2000 Dale Wayne Van Sickle Gwaltney
* * *
Thank God We’re Home
I’ve
wanted so
to intimately find the
value of a home in harmony
with the nature of heaven.
it is said home’s just a simple dwelling
conveniently situated on a gentle knoll among the
rolling hills and from there looking down the valley or on
too higher dales and mountain sides pristine fields unfolding
before orchids and woodlands stretching out towards shaded
ravines and their meandering streams then cometh twilight
and the dark of night indeed these are enchanting hours
they say nature is at our doorstep but upon opening
find it’s a jungle we sit behind bullet proof
glass windows to enjoy our garden
lawns stars begin to glisten
in yon sky like jewels
in the heavens even
their lives grow shorter with
evens smog the tranquil mood of
twilight that once filled our heart has
been replaced with sirens screams
and gunshots we lock our
doors and thank God
we’re home.
(C) 2000 Dale Wayne Van Sickle Gwaltney
* * *
The Island Home
An empty house
near the end of the road is as lonesome
as is it can be once there was care and laughter but
now there’s only he they had had so much time together
which seems like just a dream the years rolled by so swiftly
and were much too short it seems many times they talked
of futures when the years would come and go never
believing a day would really come when
one ‘twould be there alone in an
empty island home at the
end of the road.
May he stay there
as long as he lives all there’s
now are her memories to hold
and the happiness only
they can give.
(C) 2000 Dale Wayne Van Sickle Gwaltney
* * *
Random Reading
The coin of the phrase I believe
comes from William Faulkner such philosophy
is ebulliently ours—and Passion suspects spice fully
yours—such avid readers confess that they’ll read
telephone books jar labels and if all else
fails... those of Passion—like
you—have needs
an adventurous
palate and when
it comes to reading
they’ll happily leap from
fiction into history too dwell on a
faery once in a while from a philosophy
and back to a child so many things tiled from
the most arid ascriptions to the most serious
of forms these are my allies here in
Poetic forum.
(C) 2000 Dale Wayne Van Sickle Gwaltney
* * *
No Sprinkling
there seems to
be scant motif giving up seeing we’ve
both come so very far crying hard and given
life’s spacious cup mending and taking each
others heart up there’s no sprinkling given
self ‘bout where to go from tears or
health other starts I love you
you love me too so how
longs it until Christ
comes gets me
and you.
(C) 2000 Dale Wayne Van Sickle Gwaltney
* * *
Some reasons
It was a soft and warm
April day the kind that hints around glorious
May’s still weather will again come even if it can’t
promise anyone winter’s snows are finished and gone
for a year and of course they were most defiantly not
and before I could get the Spring wheels turning
here lingered another weeks long winter
gasp covering the Canada’s with
a new quilt of eight inches
or so of course it was white
snow and again I had to be one of
the surrprised remaining to find or know the
Alberta’s were wet most this fall and the white hung
heavy bringing down power lines and limbs and all ventures
were practically impossible even though I hadn’t driven in years
you set us out some tea and I whispered welcome home Prosey
Dear as we sat in our rocking chairs by old window sill and
watched the thick white flakes fall until finding again
the seasons had past full circle sitting ever so
quietly given us all these are such
feelings for laughter.
(C) 2000 Dale Wayne Van Sickle Gwaltney
* * *
Off the Shore
Aye. . . . it’s been fourteen
benevolent days since we set sail every
once in awhile I would think of our motor home and
times written in the wooded dale we’d partitioned off about
one third of the rear lower deck with the aft winds blowing
softly to our necks just above the propeller is where our
heads lay in rest on times in the nights
I’d wake to the churning
propellers quietly turning slowly yet
ever steadily driving us along the waves which
proved to be exceptionally soothing like moms heart
beating in the night there was a peaceful feeling of being
safe and protected in the arms of the sea who in a fatherly
way took us into his care how we stood all the glorious
peace of the rippling daze I’ll never know the last
night when we gathered on the high side of
harmony singing and playing my
old guitar while the boat
moved along through the still empty moon
light there was a salty air but laughter was stretched
and spread for miles with the beauty of the night etched
in white gold and the long rocking swells rolled with the
deep waters and struck the high white cliffs cradling us
tenderly along the shoreline while the moonlight
sent them white shining against a darkness
in the sea and sky then night fell and
brought the quiet slowing of the
propellers the spell was
broken safe and
warm and
strangely home.
(C) 2000 Dale Wayne Van Sickle Gwaltney
* * *
The Same
I found a love
that moves mountains in care
I found a love who wipes away my tears
I found one who takes me to places where
I can hide away and slowly lose my cares
who takes me through the rain and sees
me back again holds my hand and
is always there for me and
darling you have
always
done
just the same.
(C) 2000 Dale Wayne Van Sickle Gwaltney
* * *
Hanging
Alone on a rocky precipice
overlooking a barren shoreline deep within the
straits that lead to open seas rising eyes in supplication
tides who would answer now few questions these who
would satisfy hungers that stabbed a soul and
teased slithering onto weakened
knees a sultry seasoned
sight
I drew my cloak
about me and retreated in to
nights filled in memories yet other words
gave reasons and formed so precious faith in a
single breath hanging on such lyrics absorbed
the presence gave up.........., asking anything
leaving a toiled amen.
(C) 2000 Dale Wayne Van Sickle Gwaltney
* * *
Before she’s old
Purple Irises edge the creek
right along where lyrics find their words to
speak she holds the secret of birth living within but
hasn’t yet realized what any of it’s meant or really worth
she runs and flies before she’s old guesses not nor ere been
told kicks first through the new piled springing greens and
leaves flying in arrayed spiral rings stops long enough to
take in a look upon lonely little flower O what a chill
scent and what a thrill today she’s wrapped
around its still lament shuddering
doubts to heaven were
cried why have
clouds
crossed these
eyes bowing down
she realized all it’s
livings spent.
(C) 2000 Dale Wayne Van Sickle Gwaltney
* * *
dear lilac
Early in the morning
around stillness of frozen dawn when
snow flakes freeze together forming unique
pantomimes on windows drawn then comes
tints of streaking beams ‘cross lace portal
lined stealing skies whilst most dear
Terra’s children still in tranquil
bedding lie but audacious
roses are early bloomers
and lilacs can’t reason why
rosy smells so luscious sweet while
dear lilac bids her cry supposing if you lived
her life you’d know the reasons why sweet rosy
stole her lillian sky whistlin’ dear lilac’s mystique
stylish cries within her soul now a days are few
flowering beauties scarcely lost yet she’s
quarantined near graves and many
other mosques but she ere
spent a shanty dime
on afflictions
she once
tasted
tear
&
frost.
(C) 2000 Dale Wayne Van Sickle Gwaltney
* * *
Home Again
How richly the crackling
fire’s music comforts us and puts our
minds to chilling rest the sparking sounds of
winter are as consoling and comforting as the
poems written read listening to the lyrics I
realize these very chords will in time
meet an intimidating skyline
only to be taken
and sprinkled
away again on a
nearby ocean of mingled
thoughts to join the cresting waves
in ever returning endless tides dressing seas
shoreline in stolen white caped rhythm and lacy
rhymes of lore as of a symphony’s consorting
story ever reaching upward towards the
foamy fingered climatic peaks of
her domain touching your
naive hand stealing
your innocence
back home
again.
(C) 2000 Dale Wayne Van Sickle Gwaltney
* * *
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