No Light at the End of the Tunnel

In a maze of confusion here alone I sit;

the path of my future remains unclear

a decision I need to make but I can’t commit;

my future is not as bright as it may appear.

I fumble to try and make sense of it all

it’s like I’m reliving my tender years;

happening at the worst moments I recall

as I retreated into isolation and tears.

Though all grown up I’m still insecure,

I make the connection to when mother passed;

the pain and loss of her took years to endure

and it still comes up but thankfully it doesn’t last.

As I’ve grown old and wiser I finally realize

memories and relationships is what really matter;

broken marriages my happiness never materialized

and every choice I made seem to end up in disaster.

As I reflect some things to me are still so profound

while other things were so simple and yet so subtle;

Despite changes in my life I’ve yet to make ground

so I’ll never see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Copyright by NewLife2008

It's Barely Tuesday!?

Before the dawn
I stretch and yawn;
alarm rings, I hit the snooze.

Stumble out of bed,
shake off the cobwebs;
time to pay my dues.

Weekly recurring ritual,
far from habitual
it's just what I do.

By the week's end,
can't wait for the weekend
when my work is through.

But it ends all too fast; 
why can't weekends last
as long as the weeks do?

Copyright by NewLife2008

The Entertainer

The Entertainer

I can’t feel a thing like I’m lost in time;

a hushed silence mightily abounds,

like a French street performing mime

it grabbed my attention without a sound.

Soft, floating like a whisper it came

as if in a dream, floating in the air

billions alike but none were the same;

mesmerized by their beauty I just stared.

Dancing at my feet I can’t avoid them,

they’re all around with every step I take;

reflecting in the light like diamond gems

the rainbow of winter is the snowflake.

A white movie screen is the picture I see

perfect and flawless the design of every one

a staying power on the cold ground you’ll agree

until it melts under the intense spotlight called the sun.

Copyright by NewLife2008

Loving Hands

In the early morning before the sun arises;

she gets the necessities to make sure we’re fed.

Using her small hands that labored away with love

to make the Mexican variety of our daily bread.

Freshening up she readies herself for the task at hand:

making her way to the kitchen as she’s done for years,

searching the pantry for the ingredients there she stands

and the sound of her movements is the only thing she hears.

Flour, salt, and lard in just the right amounts

as she works all the ingredients with her finger tips;

she never needs to measure or needs to recount

from years of perfecting her craft she's more than well equipped.

Stirring, mixing, then pouring the hot water little by little;

the most important aspect to ensure the right consistency.

As the ball of masa rests, it’s time to warm the griddle

and make little round balls to roll out in perfect symmetry.

Throwing a little flour on the board so the balls don’t bind

the sound of wood on wood begins and from my slumber I awake,

with each half turn she rolls out a perfect sphere every time;

slapping it between her hands the tortilla is ready to make.

Down it goes on the hot comale the tortilla begins to bubble;

as the smell permeates every nook and cranny in the house

I can’t help but jump out of bed and into the kitchen I hustle

to see my siblings also waiting for the first tortilla to come out.

With precision she grabs it with her finger tips and flips it over

patting it down as it cooks for a few seconds more; now it’s ready.

My siblings and I will have to wait, as she puts it in the tortilla warmer,

because we know the one that always gets to eat first is our Daddy.

Copyright by NewLife2008

Too Late for Me

Momma always said not to look into the eyes of the sun;

not only did she tell me but she even lovely explained

but I never really paid any attention to that phrase even when young

it was like a whole bunch of coins of words just being exchanged.

I thought it was a mothers job to always protect their children

though I never had a visceral reaction to the counsel she gave

I knew it was necessary for me the foundation she was building

regardless of how many times she told me I always misbehaved.

As a young child I looked to her with affection and tried hard

to behave and be a son she could be proud of and lovely commend

but by the time I was a teenager everything she said I would disregard

and ended up hating her guidance as my actions I would try to defend.

I didn't want to admit the obvious but time has made it clear

I always thought I knew more than everyone else did

never taken into account my mother's wisdom of years

but the truth is it was something I never wanted to hear.

Fueled by foolishness and rebelliousness I couldn't resist

headfirst into the unwise and not having a lick of sense

I would disregard all reasonableness and continued to persist

never thinking how my life would end and at what expense.

In a sad realization my life is nearly at it's end at forty

lying here on life support and barely hanging by a thread;

I wish now that I hadn't been so stubborn and haughty

but had of listened and took to heart all of what momma said.

Copyright by NewLife2008

Just Coffee Please

Like a childhood memory; the aroma brings me back,

it's full bodied smell filling my senses;

beckoning me like the warm morning sun.

It possesses a comfortableness and a familiarity

like a treasured friend I look forward to seeing;

warm and inviting it never seems to disappoint,

partaking the moment my morning day has begun.

Copyright by NewLife2008

Swimmingly Good

In the early hours I stand in solitude, but I'm not alone;

as the silence calls me nature presents itself as an offering

and I cannot resist as I ready my rod and reel with a reply.

With deftly skill and weathered hands I aim my line with

hope and intention that excites and relaxes me at the same time

knowing regardless the outcome I have become one with nature.

The salt sea air rushes through my nasal cavity and the wind

gently laps my face as I stare intently on my line as I put my

forefinger on the line to make sure I feel every nuance in the water.

Suddenly the line becomes taunt and I reply with a swift motion

now in battle with an unseen creature but by it's pull and reaction

can tell I have a fish that I will treasure on my pallet and in my gullet.

The battle doesn't last long as I manipulate it closer and closer to me

landing the fish that I will savor later tonight with it's succulent flesh

in butter, garlic, olive oil, and lemon, paired with a nice white wine.

Copyright by NewLife2008