Just Out of Reach


Have you ever wanted something

So badly

So deeply

Intensely

Only to know that it’s just out of reach.

Knowing that even if attainment

Could be found

There no guarantee

That it would be what you want

What you need

Aware that there are others

Who have a stake

And who could be hurt

Including your own heart

Your own mind.

Trying not to dream

Not to think

Of the possibilities

The longing

The need

Dangling just out of reach.

Train Travelin’


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Very few things capture the imagination like trains. How many of us have dreamed of hopping a train to points unknown. Woody Guthrie and Merle Haggard rode the rails. Songs like “City of New Orleans”, “Orange Blossom Special” and “Rock Island Line” and many many others perpetuate the dream. Paul Theroux wrote of his adventures traveling through Europe and Asia by train. 

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For me, the allure of the train has always been the travel. Going somewhere, anywhere is an exciting notion to me. Trains have the added benefit of just being cool. The rhythmic motion and sounds as it passes fire up my imagination. Grabbing hold and swinging into a boxcar, standing at the open door, feeling the wind in my hair and the rails beneath my feet… 

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I know the realities are not as romantic as they seem. I have seen photographic images of hobos, both from Woody Guthrie’s days and modern day. Not a pretty image at all. 

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But to quote Dierks Bentley in his song, “Train Travelin'”

“Am I a fool to think it glamorous
Box-carrin’ like a hobo, it must have been rough
But a simpler way of life is what it really means to me
When we weren’t so dependent on money to be free”

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I realize I am not the only one to find trains fascinating. They are a window to the past as well as an awaiting adventure. 

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On the Wings of an Eagle


On the Wings of an Eagle

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Catching a hold of a bit of wild

The wing of an eagle

Who carries me, unbidden

Farther than I have ever been

Circling over majestic mountaintops

Higher and higher

Into azure so sharp, tears spring to my eyes

Spiraling, passion swirling

Soaring on the currents

His strength bearing me

Protecting me, caressing me

Carrying me to his treetop aerie

Released

Back I lay

Eyes wide open

Sightless, soundless, boneless

Outstretched, reaching for a piece of heaven

North from the I-40 Bridge


 

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North from the I-40 Bridge

 

Looking north

Feeling the air against my face

Wintry whispers wishing for snow

Which we won’t see…

Just smell it in the wind.

 

Cottonwoods, reaching their bare arms into the sky

Dark against the sharp blue

Here and there

The signs of the big bosque fire from a few summers ago

Darkened trees, never to grow again

Stand sentinel in eerie reminder.

 

Looking further

To the mountains

Dark blue standing in sharp profile to the clear azure sky.

Brightly colored balloons fill the sky

Declaring their freedom from earthly bounds

With a rush of burners.

 

With a sigh

I return to my car

To civilization.

Drive


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Drive

In the car

Hit the road

Music loud

Windows down

 

Can I go

Far or fast enough

To blow away

The memories

Of what we were

Or what we could have been?

 

Can I go

Far or fast enough

For the miles, the movement

The music

To blow away

The storm I got lost in?

 

Can I go

Far or fast enough

To find the road back

To where

I belong or

To where I long to be?

 

Can I go

Far or fast enough

To find my way home?

Fancy Dancers


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Fancy Dancers
Colored feathers
Bells on their ankles
Drum beats throbbing
Louder and faster
As the men
Begin the dance
Swirling and whirling
Faster to the beat
Of the drums
Undulating singing
Like a heartbeat
Colors spinning
Seemingly out of control
Yet fully contained
Beautiful spiraling
As the drumbeats quicken
Powerful steps
Graceful moves
Fully in time
To the rapidly changing tempo
The circle completing
As the drummers
Create a final crescendo
And the dancers
Stop in time

Troubadour


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Troubadour

As the music plays, he commands the floor

Quietly and confidently playing his guitar

In the spotlight alone, stands the troubadour

 

Crowds around him from near and far

Poignantly beautiful, his lone voice soars

Quietly and confidently playing his guitar

 

Like angels in heaven and up to the stars

Telling his story, pouring out his heart

Poignantly beautiful, his lone voice soars

 

In creating immortality, he plays his part

Feeling the rhythm, the enthusiastic dance

Telling his story, pouring out his heart

 

Whilst across the strings his fingers prance

The smile on his face revealing pleasure

Feeling the rhythm, the enthusiastic dance

 

The smoldering look the ladies treasure

As the music plays, he commands the floor

The smile on his face revealing pleasure

 

In the spotlight alone, stands the troubadour

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