Monday, October 31, 2011

Crash


Driving
Son
What are the
Chances
Your child’s
Eyes
Could see,
Could see what
My old man’s eyes
Cannot
A moon that races
Beside our speeding
Chariot
Never dropping
Back
Does it toy
With us?
“Bang,” you say
As the silver ball
Throws itself
Crashing
Into still dark trees
To once again,
To your delight,
Be reborn
And leap forth
From forest’s depths
Yes, I think,
The silver eye
Does toy
With us
Springing forth
Lively
To shock
From your lips
Joyous
Laughter
To see that
Your bright friend
Still watches
Over, and
Follows
You


Ken Goree


One of my most treasured memories of my beautiful, beautiful, boy.

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Flawed

Without attempt
I’ve hidden
It seems
My flaws
My faults
My weaknesses
From
You
My
Sweet
You touch the
Grey of
My whiskers
And smile
You trace
The creases
At the
Corners of
My eyes
And yours
Shine
Clear
You caress
My flesh
And must
Feel the strength
Ebbing from
My shoulders
From
My arms
And healing
Warmth
Flows from
Your
Finger
Tips
My soul cries
To be
As unflawed
As you
See
Me
For
One moment
To be
The man that is
Reflected in
Your
Eyes


Ken Goree

Saturday, October 29, 2011

Travelers

Dust
Ankle deep
Puffs up in
Clouds
As each
Plodding
Hoof
Pounds
Hot dry
Earth
Along the sun
Tortured
Trail

Brittle
Long strands
Of Horse’s
Tail
Snap and
Whip away
Mountain
Black flies
As they
Seek out
Salt and
Sweat

Whipping
Winds lift
Grey beaten
Dust into whirling
Ghostly columns
Swaying, twirling,
Dancing
Around the travelers
As they weave
Between
Summer brittled
Pines

Ken Goree


Years ago, when my son was a young boy, I went with him to a scout camp in Eastern Oregon.  Camp Baldwin was, and still is near the rolling foothills around the base of Mount Hood.  Besides all of the opportunities that one finds at any scout camp, Camp Baldwin specialized in horsemanship.  One of the highlights for me was a father/son overnight horse ride.  The daytime temperatures hovered around 100 degrees, and had for several weeks.  The landscape was dry and coated in a fine grey cloak of East Cascade dust. 

We headed out, bandanas wrapped to cover our faces out of necessity, not some adult male childish instinct to play out the fantasy of old west pioneers or bandits.  The flies dove at the eyes, mouths, and nostrils of both horses and riders in an attempt scavenge the moisture they needed to survive. 

The more aggressive horses bit at the haunches of the other horses and legs of riders in their frustration at being forced to carry their passengers, and the competitive desire to lead instead of being led. 

After hours of plodding along trails that serpentined up the side of a mountain, we reached our camp, the place where we would spend the night, wrapped in sleeping bags or bedrolls with only the stars and black night sky above us.  Each of withdrew from out saddled bags, odd packages that were dumped into a large cast iron pot, which was suspended from a teepee of branches over the cook fire.  After a dinner of surprisingly good stew and dry biscuits, we settled down for an evening of local history, story-telling and Old West cowboy poetry. 

As bed time approached our guides reminded us of the bear that had been roaming the area.  We knew the bear to be fact, as it trudged along the edges of our own campsite earlier that morning.  He was a medium-sized, cinnamon-colored and mangy looking black bear.  They then invited all fathers and sons to dispose of any hidden morsels that had been stashed away as midnight snacks.  Most of the group approached the fire and offered the snacks up the low flames and coals that remained within the campfire’s stony ring. 

An old friend and I stayed awake deep into the night talking, guarding over our treasured young sons

Friday, October 28, 2011

Unwanted Quiet Moment

In quiet moment
I find
An
Odd
Sensation
A building
Realization,
An
Expectation
As if my mind
Is searching for
An answer
One for which
I never asked

A numbness
Creeping in.
My thoughts
My feelings
My soul
Waiting for
The answer
A timeless
Stillness
Within
Each
Tick
Of the
Clock

Where is
My guide
To remind me,
To restate
The query
On which
My
Unconsciousness
Dwells
Pondering
I know not what
Too slowly
In muddled
Hell


Ken Goree


That was not quite my usual, was it?  It’s just that a powerfully numbing sensation came over me, a while ago.  It was partially like trying to recall a name, or fact of history that you wanted to share; though it was without the same sense of urgency.  It was quite odd, and sadly, I know I am not close to representing it accurately.  And I feel the need to point out, I have not done anything today that should bring about “muddled” thinking processes.  I let you all know, if I find the answer.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Fish?


Hmmm, needs a poem, a poem you say?
I may just write it; maybe today
It is pretty ugly. It is.  Don’t say, “No, way!”
It’d be much nicer, were it a fillet.


Ken


This is from a conversation over a photo that I posted on Facebook.  The ugly fish in question was actually a dragon fruit.  Janeen was not very complimentary over the poem.  I’m hoping that is just because she was comparing it to all of my wonderful, earlier poems she has read.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Painful Apathy

Such a sad
Lost
Child

Father where is
My
Mom?
Father, school called
For
You
Father, what did
I
Do?
Father, do you
Know
Me?
Father, can we
Just
Talk?
Father, will you
Miss
Me?


Ken Goree


I wish I didn’t have a reason to write this poem.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

A Rent in Night’s Fabric

Dear
Goddess
Demeter,
Is it your scythe,
In harvest,
Which draws
Crescent in the
Night sky
And lets through
The light of
Creation

Or

Tell me
Does a more fell
Scythe
Guided by
Darker hand
Slice through
Black night
To draw
Soul
To
That
Which
Waits
Beyond?


Ken Goree


The moon, this morning, was an incredible sight.  I almost felt like keeping it to myself; such a thin beautiful arc of pure white light.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Saved

When darkness
Seem a threatening
And light has been withdrawn
I recall the smiles of friends
When the abyss does yawn

I rarely do approach the edge
And never know just why
My shuffling steps creep nearer
To an edge that could just crumble
I remember my friends dearer

So never have I traveled down
Roads of no returning
Though close I passed, and scarred
More than one time I did approach
To darkness and left marred

Again I say, that I have found
Salvation at the image of
A friend’s laugh raised to the sky
For the life and soul of me I won’t
A brother’s love deny


Ken Goree


Please forgive the problems with the scansion, and try to appreciate the thought.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Innocence Renewed

So fresh the morning
Cleansing rain of night
Still dripping from
Fiery Autumn leaves

Eyes tearing from
The sting of
Pure reflected sunlight
Bright, dewdrop diamonds

Delighted shivers rattle through
Feeling that the sins and grime
Of life are washed clean
In the baptism of an innocent new day


Ken Goree


Over and over, I feel chills through my soul, at the sight of a bright new morning.  

Saturday, October 22, 2011

Monsters

How
I
So
Miss
The pounding
Of my heart
Over fears metaphysical
Misshapen
Monsters
Whose invisible claws
Crusted with
Dried invisible blood
Draw my blanket
Slowly under
My bed
What purpose
Should beast
Have
To sniff the scent
Of my flesh
Before
Drawing me slowly in
As my blanket
Before me
So
It
May
Begin
To
Feed


Ken Goree


I so miss, as I believe I have said before, the innocent and childish fears of my youth; what a wonderful way to exercise the imagination.  I try so very hard to once again frighten myself over carefree, harmless monsters, such as they were.  I rarely find real monsters in my life, but the new monsters that plague the news give me no pleasure, satisfaction or sense of adventure.  I’d welcome back the phantoms, werewolves and “The Blob,” all of whom used to live under my bed.  I made extra popcorn tonight, just in case they grant me one more wonderful visit.


Friday, October 21, 2011

Last Laugh

Dang I can’t believe it
I got my shot this date
Influenza has got into me
That shot a little late

So now I get the feeling,
That my daughter felt
I should have given sympathy
Over the hand that she was dealt

For now, I sit here shivering
In a room that is quite hot
Muscle are now sore and aching
From her, a sickness I have got

So far, I have not asked a soul
In voice that’s weak and shaky
For soup, or blanket for my hide
Though my body is still achy

The beauty of this situation
Is time heals wholes and half
As Girlie makes some fun of me
I think I’ll have last laugh

The planet’s got a limit of bugs
68 of them are flu
I’ve had 67 of those
Carly only two


Ken Goree

Follow up to yesterday's poem

I wrote yesterday's poem while in my writing class (The Puget Sound Writing Project).  Later in the class, I taught a prewriting lesson for developing sensory details, and expanding vocabulary.  The lesson ended with a short writing period to incorporate some of the sensory details into one or more paragraphs.  After the poem, I thought I would continue with the "sick daughter" theme for my writing.  Here is what I came up with:



“Daaad?” came the weak voice of my daughter.

“Yes?”

“I’m hungry.”

-
-
-

“Dad?” a bit louder now.

“Yes, Carly.”

“I said I’m hungry.”

“Yes, I know.  I heard you.”

“Dad, stop doing that!”

“What,” I answered, my voice gooshy with innocence.

“Will you make me some soup?”

“All you had to do was ask, Princess.”

To the sound of my grumbling daughter in the background, I went to the kitchen, thinking “Grumbling sounds awfully funny from a kid with a stuffy nose. "

“I heard that, “ Carly yelled from the couch.

“What?”

“I don’t know, but you were thinking something.  I could see the smile on your face.”

In the kitchen, I took a can of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup from the pantry shelf.  As I stepped back I tripped over Orion.  That damn dog always walks up right behind me in the kitchen.  As I caught my balance, I dropped the can.  The heavy clunk of metal on hardwood sent Orion running for cover.  I could hear the thump, thump thump of the dented can as it rolled into the space under the dishwasher.  I reached for a fresh can from the cupboard.  There is no way I’m reaching under the dishwasher.  There are dust bunnies under there; big, hairy, greasy dust bunnies.

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Girl

I feel a little guilty
For the thoughts that I am thinking
My little girl’s been acting bad
Her behavior has been stinking

Now don’t get me wrong
I’d never wish her hell
But I’ve begun to notice that
She’s nicer when not well

So when a student’s sick in class
Evil plans in my head pop
Borrow his scarf to share with her?
“No, no I better stop!”

Then when I get back home to her
Sadly battling her bug
She says, ”I love you, Daddy.”
And offers me a hug

Now, I have to tell you all
That I don’t hesitate
Though I know I’ll catch a cold
For that hug I celebrate


Ken Goree

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Join

Father, please open your eyes

Your
Child
Is losing the game
Join

Join
With
Your baby boy
Coach

Coach
Him
Give him love
Guide

Guide
Him
In his growth
Lead

Lead
Him
By a good
Example

Father, please open your eyes
Join your son while you can


Ken Goree

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Sharing Lines

Let me look
At you
Let me follow
Your lines
The curves
And limbs
The lines that
Time has
Etched
Creating the masterpiece
The limbs that branch
Delicately from
Your eyes
Marking the
Delights that you
Have seen
The graceful curves
Framing your
Mouth
That has laughed
Without limit
The crinkle of your
Nose
That has
Giggled and blushed
A bit of
Wicked
Wit
Let us
Share and create
Joyful
New
Lines


Ken Goree

Monday, October 17, 2011

Return from Darkness

Reach
Your
Hand
From the Darkness
Which
You
Have
Thrown yourself into
Trust
My
Strength
To Raise You
Back
Into
Light


Ken Goree

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Let My Passing Be

Let my passing be
A joyful
Celebration
Of
Life

A celebration
Of
My mother
And father
And the
Goodness
They gave
To me

A celebration
Of
Lessons learned
From a
Skinned
Knee,
From a friend’s
Pain
I sought to
Heal

A celebration
Of
The beautiful
Children
I helped
Bring to
and share
With
This
World

A celebration
Of
Each tree
I planted
Each seed
I sowed
Each harvest
I shared

A celebration
Of
Each smile
I brought
To your
Lips
Each Laugh
I gave to
Your
Heart

A celebration
Of
Truly looking
Into your
Eyes
And seeing
You like
No other
Ever
Has

A celebration
Of
Tasting life
Fully
The bitter
And the
Sweet
And
Cherishing
Both

A celebration
Of
The tears
I shed
Because I
Cared
Either in
Joy or a
Shared
Sorrow

A celebration
Of
Touching you
With flesh,
My words,
or in a
Simple pure
Act
Of
Kindness

A celebration
Of
My love
For you,
For my
Family,
For my
Friends,
And
All
Creation

It is to me
The greatest
Celebration
As I leave
What pain I
May have had
To apologize
For all
My failings,

And forget
Them and tor
Remember,
I am
What you
Have
Given
To
Me


Ken Goree


I’ve mentioned before, I don’t have any intention of leaving this world in the near future, or any reason to believe that I my days are few.  I do however, want to make sure that if I leave before you (the people in my life), that you know how much you have all meant to me.  And, as I assume is a common trait of most humanity, I wish not to be forgotten.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Bright Autumn

Bright
Autumn
The green sucked
From broad Maple
Leaves
To reveal fiery
Yellow,
Red,
Orange

Robin
Is singing
His farewell
Song

Spiders begin
Seeking
Shelter
From the
Storm
And
Chill

Warm quilt
Wraps my
Body
As I sip
Coffee
And watch
The change
Speeding
Toward
Me


Ken Goree

Friday, October 14, 2011

Adrift

So lost
A young soul
Thoughts scattered
Directionless
Unable to align
Himself to the
Stars
Horizon
Land

Within
His imagined lands
Filled with lofty towers
Forbidden Planets
Bright dragon plunders
Drawing in
Where life makes
Sense

Without
Papers run away like wolf frightened sheep flocks
Socks never find their mates
The road home, a twisted maze
A soul
Adrift


Ken Goree


This is about a young student I know.  He’s adrift in life, and resistant to learning to use a compass.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

I Get So Sad and Lonely

Just like when as last bell rings
I get so sad and lonely
When my kids aren’t in their seats
I get so sad and lonely

Or when I’m waxing on, on science
I get so sad and lonely
As one kid sleeps on desktop drooling
I get so sad and lonely

And when I bring a feast for all
I get so sad and lonely
I hear, “No thanks, I’ve tuna fish.”
I get so sad and lonely

But most of all on conference night
I get so sad and lonely
Your conference time has come and
A “No show,” just me only.


Ken Goree

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Enlisting the Villagers

Still trying to tame
“My” Dragon
I have not all the
Tools
I must enlist the
Villagers,
From the mayor to the
Fools

Now each of these a varied
Group
Doesn’t want his angered
Turned
Through a many difficult
Year
By this dragon they’ve been
Burned

I called them to a
Council
Pretending I was
Wise
They agreed to help my
Plan,
“As long as the dragon
Tries.”

So now this council
Finished
There’s nothing left to
Do
Now “our” dragon we will
Tame
As long as our hearts be
True


Ken Goree

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

The White Stampede

Across the
Steel and
Pewter plain
The Stampede
Of White
Stallion
Manes
Rises
And Falls,
Driven before
The bite
Of
October’s
Savage
Beast


As I was driving south toward Lake Washington this afternoon, I saw the white-capped waves rising and falling across Lake Washington.  The power to drive such an enormous mass of water before it, in the child October wind, caught my eye.  Like a stampede, where the identity of each horse fades into the wild dance, is the vision that came to me.  I love recognizing the glorious drama of creation that so many pass by.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Just Bathed Dog

Nothing like
A just bathed
Dog
Clean, shining
Untangled and sweet
Smelling

Nothing like
The bathroom afterbath
Mess
Sticky clumps
Of fur on
Walls


Ken Goree

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Blocked Off

I’m not feeling very witty
Tonight I’m feeling stale
I think I might have stepped in
A “writers’ block-ish” Hell

I guess I’ll have to work around
That’s what I’m going to do
I’ll wipe that gooey block right off
My metaphorical shoe

The biggest problem I do think
Is finding the best place
To wipe that nasty block off
So it leaves no trace.


Ken Goree

Saturday, October 8, 2011

Patience Bucket

We all have a patience bucket
They come in different sizes
When that bucket fills all up
Is when blood pressure rises

The bucket that I have in me
Is bigger than the average
But please don’t try to pour in
Twice what it can manage


Ken Goree

Friday, October 7, 2011

Piratey

I feel a little piratey
Thank God I know my “Rs”
Swagger around with rum in hand
No need to go to bars

Both my eyes work just fine
But I like to wear the patch
And I enjoy my pretend hook
Good for a hard to reach scratch

My students call me Captain
If they don’t they walk those planks
I tell them, “Rrrr, go do your work
And you’ll be getting’ no thanks.”

They often look at me quite strange
Don’t understand their problem
“Stop it now you scurvy kids, or
Your grades’ll be on the bottom.”

“So let me here a Garr and Rrr”
No better crew’ve I seen
Piratin’s a way of life
Not just for Halloween


Ken Goree

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Quenching the Dragon

Where does the dragon come from?
Where do the fires begin?
How does one ever
Quench the fire within?

What fuels the stream and boil?
What feeds the fire and burn
The dragon vomits forth pain
Repaying his scars all in turn

When will the cauldron be cooled
Does fire now feed on itself
When no more gas has been added
Does the dragon now feed on itself

I wish not to slay this foul dragon
Nor let his vile tyranny linger
Not remove the best of his nature
But train him to be a bit tamer

The good knights are coming to take him
Before he lies dead on his pyre
Can someone please tell me the secret
To quenching this dragon’s fire


Ken Goree



Sometimes we ask, “Where did the dragon come from,” and sometimes its origins are obvious.  My question; can the damage be repaired?  By applying the medicine to soothe the irritation, clearing away the brush pile of pain and suffering, humiliation and disappointment, and blocking any new fuel from being thrown on the fire, do we quench the dragon, or does the dragon begin to feed on itself?

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

The Last Act

Thank you
Sweet
Angel

When need
Was
Present

My Son
Damaged
In
The
Road

Rain Slicked
Night
Shining
On
Wet
Pavement

Twisted metal
Two
Cars
Become
One

Thank you
Sweet
Angel

One man
Stopping
To
Guide
others
Clear

Last act
Watching
over
My
Son

Protecting life
Caring
Generous
Soul

Passing on
In
Final
Last
Act
Of
Love

Thank you
Sweet
Angel

Take thanks
On
Your
Last
Journey


Ken Goree


Tonight, my son was in the first accident of his life.  Two cars twisted together so that one could not be distinguished the other.  He and his friends, and the lady in the other car were not hurt seriously, but arriving on the scene it was hard to believe.  The silver Toyota was sitting on the hood of my son’s car, tipped on its side so that the drive train was resting on the windshield of my son’s convertible.  They were in the middle lane of the freeway, rain dripping down, the lights of five police cars and to medic vehicles flashing needles of light into my eyes.  As I approached the scene,  I could see medics feverishly giving CPR to someone in the back of the medic ambulance.  My son’s life flashed before my eyes. 

It turned out not to be anyone involved in my son’s accident, but a good Samaritan who had pulled over after seeing the accident.  His concern for the safety of the accident victims led him to pull over and guide traffic around the twisted vehicles and their occupants.  In the midst of his care, concern and love for his fellow human beings.  God decided it was time to call him home.  My hero collapsed on the side of the road.  Despite the efforts of the aid crew which showed up just as he collapsed, he passed on into the night. 

I felt I needed to thank him for watching over my son until I arrived.  I hope his family and loved ones know about his heroic, last act.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

White Noise


Waking in the
Night
With black
Whispers
In my mind
Turning small
Inconveniences
Into great
Tragedies
Trifling annoyances
Into travesties
And
Temporary setbacks
Into Armageddon

Lord
Give me
White noise:
Whipping winds
Pounding rains
Rhythmic thumping
From the
Washing machine,
To replace the whispers
And
Restore
Clarity and
Proportion
To my
Night
And
Life


Ken Goree

Monday, October 3, 2011

Music in the Night

In the settled silence
We hold each other
Close in slumber
Coiling together in
Our dreams
Wind slips in
Through narrow window
Sighing at the sight
Of our closeness
Whispering its
Approval
Singing of our union
As gentle Rain
Jealous to be
Without
Is tapping out
A rhythm
Joining Wind’s song
Music to accompany
Our embrace


Ken Goree

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Wander Lust

Just another day you say
But it’s not same for me
The sky blows other winds my way
I taste the scent of sea

Yesterday, this place was fine
But as the birds fly from the West
My heart calls with a wander lust
My feet yearn for a quest

Each year there is a single day
When summer gives to fall
Each fiber of my body says
To follow nomadic call

And year after year I hold
To home, family and friends
I hold hard to life that I do love
‘Til the call of wander lust ends


Ken Goree

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Aqua Vitae

From this
Comes all
Of limitless
Uncountable breaths

From this
All come
From fin
To limb

From this
Comes all
To upright
Thinking masses

To this
All can
Be returned
To nothingness


Ken Goree


I know aqua vitae is usually in reference to alcoholic spirits, but for the purposes of this poem I am taking it at its literal meaning; the water of life.