The kind of night where all huddle protected from the
wind and cold—the rain slashing down—seeming death to any traveler.
The predators and their prey snuggled in their dens securely from the storm
burrowed in mounds of leaves heads sleepily bowed.
Yet I walk alone through the blackness with a measured step
frigid drops dripping off my old rain jacket—ice forming in puddles—glassy and smooth.
Tramping through the leaves, up hill and down
spying the occasional glimpse of cheery lights
from little houses in the valley so far below.
Imagining what it is like for those inside
warm and dry and protected from the night.
Am I one of them, fearful of the night?
Or am I something different, closer to wild?
Does it really matter which I am?
Perhaps I am both whether I like it or not.
Chuck Connors, October 12, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
Wy Don't We Dance?
Why don’t we dance, dance through the leaves,
Celebrate the autumn of another year?
Each one us pirouetting on the graves of family long gone;
Doing the two-step of our very lives.
Why don’t we dance, dance to celebrate, the ending of another year, finally gone by?
Our whoops and our shouts amongst the bonfires,
All cheerily burning, the pyres around us,
Maybe the last year, the last we will ever know.
Yes, why don’t we dance at the death of the world?
Celebrating the end of all things that we know?
Releasing to the universe our blood and our pain,
Letting go of this life—stepping through to what comes next.
Chuck Connors, September 17, 2010
Celebrate the autumn of another year?
Each one us pirouetting on the graves of family long gone;
Doing the two-step of our very lives.
Why don’t we dance, dance to celebrate, the ending of another year, finally gone by?
Our whoops and our shouts amongst the bonfires,
All cheerily burning, the pyres around us,
Maybe the last year, the last we will ever know.
Yes, why don’t we dance at the death of the world?
Celebrating the end of all things that we know?
Releasing to the universe our blood and our pain,
Letting go of this life—stepping through to what comes next.
Chuck Connors, September 17, 2010
Unbreakable Bonds
Darkest night—endless highway,
Speeding small universes whooshing along.
Dazzling head lights, light up the sky lights,
Cones of sight, cut through the inky forever.
Each month I go on--I take this journey.
West from the mountains,
East to the coast.
What drives me onward, mile after mile,
Down the ribbon of highway,
Across the endless flat land?
There’s nothing greater
Than the pull of a son’s love
To a mother who cared from the very beginning
These unbreakable, unshakable bonds,
Forged by father and mother in ecstasy,
Continue on, a remembrance of love.
Chuck Connors, August 11, 2010
Speeding small universes whooshing along.
Dazzling head lights, light up the sky lights,
Cones of sight, cut through the inky forever.
Each month I go on--I take this journey.
West from the mountains,
East to the coast.
What drives me onward, mile after mile,
Down the ribbon of highway,
Across the endless flat land?
There’s nothing greater
Than the pull of a son’s love
To a mother who cared from the very beginning
These unbreakable, unshakable bonds,
Forged by father and mother in ecstasy,
Continue on, a remembrance of love.
Chuck Connors, August 11, 2010
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Old Barn
Old barn sittin’ on the edge of a grown up field
roof fallin’ in, boards comin’ off, covered up with kudzu.
How many mules did the old barn shelter;
tractors with implements—hand tools and such?
Old barn made it through the flood of 1940;
held up through the blizzard of ’93.
Old barn heard all the kids playin’ in the stalls,
seen the teenagers lovin’ up in the hayloft too.
A way of life that came, thrived, and now’s
goin’—old barn’s been through it all.
My granddaddy built the old barn with
a quick mind and strong, rough hands.
He’s no longer here—been gone almost 20 years;
yet the old barn just lives on and on.
Chuck Connors, July 1, 2010
roof fallin’ in, boards comin’ off, covered up with kudzu.
How many mules did the old barn shelter;
tractors with implements—hand tools and such?
Old barn made it through the flood of 1940;
held up through the blizzard of ’93.
Old barn heard all the kids playin’ in the stalls,
seen the teenagers lovin’ up in the hayloft too.
A way of life that came, thrived, and now’s
goin’—old barn’s been through it all.
My granddaddy built the old barn with
a quick mind and strong, rough hands.
He’s no longer here—been gone almost 20 years;
yet the old barn just lives on and on.
Chuck Connors, July 1, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Loved You So
Well dad, how long has it been
since you passed from
us to wherever
it is that we all go?
I’m sorry I couldn’t say the
things that needed saying,
when I know I should have said them
to you while you were still here with us.
I remember all the places
we used to go and the things we used to do;
all the great stuff that I learned
from just listening to you.
If I could travel back in time
So many years ago, to
when I was just a boy;
and live it each and every day.
I’d listen so much harder;
try to be a better son,
let you know each and everyday
my love and gratitude you’d won.
Chuck Connors, June 19, 2010
since you passed from
us to wherever
it is that we all go?
I’m sorry I couldn’t say the
things that needed saying,
when I know I should have said them
to you while you were still here with us.
I remember all the places
we used to go and the things we used to do;
all the great stuff that I learned
from just listening to you.
If I could travel back in time
So many years ago, to
when I was just a boy;
and live it each and every day.
I’d listen so much harder;
try to be a better son,
let you know each and everyday
my love and gratitude you’d won.
Chuck Connors, June 19, 2010
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Rays of the Sun
Weeding out in the yard
Late one afternoon;
Daisies, marigolds, daffodils,
Violently blooming on the threshold of summer.
A warm humid day—the air barely stirring.
Sweat darkening my armpits;
Dripping off my nose.
In the distance rays of the sun
Beaming down—searchlights from Heaven.
Casting a golden glow
On everything they touch.
Chuck Connors, June 18, 2010
Late one afternoon;
Daisies, marigolds, daffodils,
Violently blooming on the threshold of summer.
A warm humid day—the air barely stirring.
Sweat darkening my armpits;
Dripping off my nose.
In the distance rays of the sun
Beaming down—searchlights from Heaven.
Casting a golden glow
On everything they touch.
Chuck Connors, June 18, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
A Burning Anger
Little tourist towns way up in the mountains
With fancy-pants cafes and snooty up-scale bistros.
“Come save with us—our prices rolled back!”
Smiling, sweating shop owners chasing the almighty dollar.
While regular, poor folks, willing to work for an honest day’s wages
Fret and starve back up in the hills.
Empty store fronts and half-constructed tacky hotels,
Money-hungry small-town politicians bowing and scraping
At the beady-eyed millionaire’s feet.
Meanwhile, back in the coves and hollers,
Hidden from all but the most perceptive gaze,
Grows a burning anger in the hearts of the people.
Chuck Connors, June 3, 2010
With fancy-pants cafes and snooty up-scale bistros.
“Come save with us—our prices rolled back!”
Smiling, sweating shop owners chasing the almighty dollar.
While regular, poor folks, willing to work for an honest day’s wages
Fret and starve back up in the hills.
Empty store fronts and half-constructed tacky hotels,
Money-hungry small-town politicians bowing and scraping
At the beady-eyed millionaire’s feet.
Meanwhile, back in the coves and hollers,
Hidden from all but the most perceptive gaze,
Grows a burning anger in the hearts of the people.
Chuck Connors, June 3, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
Blacksnake
Blacksnake livin’ in the pottin’ shed
hangin’ from the rafters just fine,
in walks a lady spots the Blacksnake,
screaming and hollering “oh my.”
Poor old Blacksnake just hangin’ there,
not hurtin’ nobody in the world.
Seems some folks don’t like no Blacksnake,
Don’t matter if he’s good or bad.
If you see a little old Blacksnake,
hangin’ from the rafters of your shed.
Just leave him alone that Blacksnake,
and he won’t drop down on you head.
Chuck Connors, May 2, 2010
hangin’ from the rafters just fine,
in walks a lady spots the Blacksnake,
screaming and hollering “oh my.”
Poor old Blacksnake just hangin’ there,
not hurtin’ nobody in the world.
Seems some folks don’t like no Blacksnake,
Don’t matter if he’s good or bad.
If you see a little old Blacksnake,
hangin’ from the rafters of your shed.
Just leave him alone that Blacksnake,
and he won’t drop down on you head.
Chuck Connors, May 2, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Smoky Mountain Rain
Smoky Mountain rain, fresh and clean, driven through the cracks and crevices
of the cold crystalline aquifers in the deepest dark far below our warm, sunny world.
This precious resource filled up the gargantuan canyons of Earth’s oceans eons ago;
long before we humans strutted the stage of creation.
It was and is the source of all life, a gift from the Unknowable.
Smoky Mountain rain—life-giving moisture;
borne on racing continental winds from two great oceans.
One warm and tropical, the other perilously cold, far to the setting sun;
both contributing the life-giving elixir;
falls on some of the oldest mountains in existence.
Smoky Mountain rain, sometimes falling gently with a mother’s touch on the trees and plants. Other times, pounding the earth in sheets, washing away needed soil;
surrounded by jagged shards of lightening,
followed by the booming of ear-splitting thunder;
seemingly mad like two human’s passionate embrace.
Smoky Mountain rain, driven, sinks into the earth
through the humus and topsoil, trickling into the depths.
A joining of two elementals, water and earth;
bursting forth in springs, streams and rivers,
giving life to everything it touches.
Smoky Mountain rain, nobody owns it; although some might think so.
All share in its benefits.
All suffer from its absence.
No one owns the Smoky Mountain rain.
Smoky Mountain rain—the source of all life.
Chuck Connors, March 26, 2010
of the cold crystalline aquifers in the deepest dark far below our warm, sunny world.
This precious resource filled up the gargantuan canyons of Earth’s oceans eons ago;
long before we humans strutted the stage of creation.
It was and is the source of all life, a gift from the Unknowable.
Smoky Mountain rain—life-giving moisture;
borne on racing continental winds from two great oceans.
One warm and tropical, the other perilously cold, far to the setting sun;
both contributing the life-giving elixir;
falls on some of the oldest mountains in existence.
Smoky Mountain rain, sometimes falling gently with a mother’s touch on the trees and plants. Other times, pounding the earth in sheets, washing away needed soil;
surrounded by jagged shards of lightening,
followed by the booming of ear-splitting thunder;
seemingly mad like two human’s passionate embrace.
Smoky Mountain rain, driven, sinks into the earth
through the humus and topsoil, trickling into the depths.
A joining of two elementals, water and earth;
bursting forth in springs, streams and rivers,
giving life to everything it touches.
Smoky Mountain rain, nobody owns it; although some might think so.
All share in its benefits.
All suffer from its absence.
No one owns the Smoky Mountain rain.
Smoky Mountain rain—the source of all life.
Chuck Connors, March 26, 2010
What If?
‘Big men’ come and swoop down upon us
like hawks diving down on cowed, helpless mice.
They come, whether we want them to or not,
like bad weather or other natural disasters.
What if ‘big men’ didn’t come,
staying away and left us free and unmolested?
What if, when ‘big men’ came, swooping down upon us;
expecting to take all they want (and more);
one mouse turned around, holding and aiming a rifle
and shot the hawk out of the sky?
What if?
Chuck Connors, April 24, 2010
like hawks diving down on cowed, helpless mice.
They come, whether we want them to or not,
like bad weather or other natural disasters.
What if ‘big men’ didn’t come,
staying away and left us free and unmolested?
What if, when ‘big men’ came, swooping down upon us;
expecting to take all they want (and more);
one mouse turned around, holding and aiming a rifle
and shot the hawk out of the sky?
What if?
Chuck Connors, April 24, 2010
Sweet Surprise
A riot, an explosion, a conflagration of colors;
Spread across the land according to the laws of the Creator.
Brilliant yellows, dark forest greens, gentle pinks, and dazzling whites;
A collage of colors burst forth from the earth.
Every spring, life comes springing up like a colorful jack-in-the-box
With a big stupid grin, silly hat, and surprising you when you least expect it.
Silly, ignorant humans; always being surprised by spring springing
like we’d never seen such a sight before.
Yet if I was never surprised, and maybe even a little bored with the prospect
of the rejuvenation of life every year; would life be worth the living?
Count me among the silly and stupid for if I were to live for a thousand more
years through such beginnings I’d always be amazed at nature’s sudden, sweet surprise.
Chuck Connors, April 11, 2010
Spread across the land according to the laws of the Creator.
Brilliant yellows, dark forest greens, gentle pinks, and dazzling whites;
A collage of colors burst forth from the earth.
Every spring, life comes springing up like a colorful jack-in-the-box
With a big stupid grin, silly hat, and surprising you when you least expect it.
Silly, ignorant humans; always being surprised by spring springing
like we’d never seen such a sight before.
Yet if I was never surprised, and maybe even a little bored with the prospect
of the rejuvenation of life every year; would life be worth the living?
Count me among the silly and stupid for if I were to live for a thousand more
years through such beginnings I’d always be amazed at nature’s sudden, sweet surprise.
Chuck Connors, April 11, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Vigilant Gray Cat
Tree swallows, Blue birds, and little Finches hop around;
A couple of Starlings fighting at a feeder.
While under them, hiding, hungry in the grass;
A vigilant gray cat waits for his chance.
Chuck Connors, April 3, 2010
A couple of Starlings fighting at a feeder.
While under them, hiding, hungry in the grass;
A vigilant gray cat waits for his chance.
Chuck Connors, April 3, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Cold Rains of Spring
The cold rains of spring come every year;
Driving down from the heavens,
Flashing from the dark cloud masses,
Creating a muddy mess of bogs, puddles, and torrential streams.
Humans hunched over against the gusts scurry about
Encased in Gore-Tex and plastic grimacing at the windy wetness.
Cars and trucks driving on dirt roads and grass driveways,
Spinning tires helplessly boring tracks into the sodden turf.
Cold winds whip the rain into a pagan frenzy,
Piercing every crack and cranny,
Thundering upon the rooftops, battering against windows and doors,
Wetting all, inside and out, like the waves of a stormy merciless sea.
Beasts of the fields huddle furtively under bushes and rocks;
In their dens praying in their primitive minds while
Hungry bellies rumbling, beseeching, cry out for a coming soon of
Sunshine, warmth, dryness and life-giving food.
Only poets and madmen wander around on such days
Staring upwards with mouths agape
Feeling the pressure of the rain on their upturned faces
Laughing joyfully, manically—with complete abandon.
Wondering, hoping, willing for the wildness of it all,
The spiritual connectiveness to all things—praying that the
Cold rains of spring last forever;
For at least this year…
Chuck Connors, March 17, 2010
Driving down from the heavens,
Flashing from the dark cloud masses,
Creating a muddy mess of bogs, puddles, and torrential streams.
Humans hunched over against the gusts scurry about
Encased in Gore-Tex and plastic grimacing at the windy wetness.
Cars and trucks driving on dirt roads and grass driveways,
Spinning tires helplessly boring tracks into the sodden turf.
Cold winds whip the rain into a pagan frenzy,
Piercing every crack and cranny,
Thundering upon the rooftops, battering against windows and doors,
Wetting all, inside and out, like the waves of a stormy merciless sea.
Beasts of the fields huddle furtively under bushes and rocks;
In their dens praying in their primitive minds while
Hungry bellies rumbling, beseeching, cry out for a coming soon of
Sunshine, warmth, dryness and life-giving food.
Only poets and madmen wander around on such days
Staring upwards with mouths agape
Feeling the pressure of the rain on their upturned faces
Laughing joyfully, manically—with complete abandon.
Wondering, hoping, willing for the wildness of it all,
The spiritual connectiveness to all things—praying that the
Cold rains of spring last forever;
For at least this year…
Chuck Connors, March 17, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
See What Attracted Me!
Giant bulldozers cut across contour lines;
Up and down hillsides, slicing through the forest mat;
Grinding and crushing the bones of the mountains.
“See what attracted me!”
Cutting back hillsides, leveling out home sites;
Raw red earth spilling into streams;
Lifeblood of the land spurts away.
“See what attracted me!”
The sound of hammers echo off the mountainsides;
Power saws rip down trees for ‘million dollar’ views;
Construction trash and empty liquor bottles despoil the land.
“See what attracted me!”
Trout streams buried in plastic pipes;
Non-native grasses kept artificially alive;
Fertilizer run-off of golf courses poisons the drinking water.
“See what attracted me!”
The landslides slip and slide
Way down the mountain sides,
Just like groupie panties in the locker room.
“See what attracted me!”
Later, when all is destroyed
Having created this artificial ‘paradise;’
Only then do the people cry and scream:
“See what attracted me!”
Chuck Connors, February 22, 2010
Up and down hillsides, slicing through the forest mat;
Grinding and crushing the bones of the mountains.
“See what attracted me!”
Cutting back hillsides, leveling out home sites;
Raw red earth spilling into streams;
Lifeblood of the land spurts away.
“See what attracted me!”
The sound of hammers echo off the mountainsides;
Power saws rip down trees for ‘million dollar’ views;
Construction trash and empty liquor bottles despoil the land.
“See what attracted me!”
Trout streams buried in plastic pipes;
Non-native grasses kept artificially alive;
Fertilizer run-off of golf courses poisons the drinking water.
“See what attracted me!”
The landslides slip and slide
Way down the mountain sides,
Just like groupie panties in the locker room.
“See what attracted me!”
Later, when all is destroyed
Having created this artificial ‘paradise;’
Only then do the people cry and scream:
“See what attracted me!”
Chuck Connors, February 22, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
A Good Cause
A roomful of people,
All there for a good cause.
Tickets sold for a fundraising supper;
Proceeds to neuter homeless dogs and cats.
Singer-song writer crooning in a corner;
Cheery groups talking animatedly at tables.
Fraternity boys serve drinks and food;
Your choice tonight, meat or vegetarian.
Are we being smug and self-serving,
By just donating money,
Signing up for a raffle,
Thinking the problem’s solved?
Chuck Connors, February 23, 2010
All there for a good cause.
Tickets sold for a fundraising supper;
Proceeds to neuter homeless dogs and cats.
Singer-song writer crooning in a corner;
Cheery groups talking animatedly at tables.
Fraternity boys serve drinks and food;
Your choice tonight, meat or vegetarian.
Are we being smug and self-serving,
By just donating money,
Signing up for a raffle,
Thinking the problem’s solved?
Chuck Connors, February 23, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
Terrifying
Record snowfall, second of the season;
Winter world, everything white.
Lines of vehicles stalled in the drifts;
Others like me slip-sliding along.
Terrifying long, long minutes;
Unsure if I will make home safe and sound.
Staring at the blowing snow;
Thinking of your warm embrace;
Your tender lips, your sweet, sweet taste.
When I am next to you—the terror leaves me;
Enfolded by your loving embrace.
Chuck Connors, January 31, 2010
Winter world, everything white.
Lines of vehicles stalled in the drifts;
Others like me slip-sliding along.
Terrifying long, long minutes;
Unsure if I will make home safe and sound.
Staring at the blowing snow;
Thinking of your warm embrace;
Your tender lips, your sweet, sweet taste.
When I am next to you—the terror leaves me;
Enfolded by your loving embrace.
Chuck Connors, January 31, 2010
Heart's Desire
You are my heart’s desire,
through you I gain my strength.
Your caring and compassion,
help me to live fully each day.
When I see your face,
hold you in my arms,
whisper in your ear,
life becomes a wonderful song.
The sun seems so much brighter;
the flowers all ablaze;
the scent of you when we embrace
overpowers all my cares.
You are my heart’s desire,
the one I searched for so very long.
With God’s help we will be together,
as long as He Wills it to be.
Chuck Connors, January 21, 2010
through you I gain my strength.
Your caring and compassion,
help me to live fully each day.
When I see your face,
hold you in my arms,
whisper in your ear,
life becomes a wonderful song.
The sun seems so much brighter;
the flowers all ablaze;
the scent of you when we embrace
overpowers all my cares.
You are my heart’s desire,
the one I searched for so very long.
With God’s help we will be together,
as long as He Wills it to be.
Chuck Connors, January 21, 2010
Wonderful Dream
Sitting in another business meeting,
Daydreaming about things I want to do with you.
Last night I couldn’t kiss you enough,
Cross-eyed crazy in your embrace.
What would it be like to be with you,
From here on out to the end of time?
To wake each morning—look into your eyes,
Taste your lips and inhale your musk.
I’ve waited so long for my dream girl,
Are you the one He sent to me?
A kindred soul on the journey of life;
You’re a wonderful dream I haven’t earned.
Millions of people constantly searching;
Only a few joyfully finding each other at last.
Chuck Connors, January 17, 2010
Daydreaming about things I want to do with you.
Last night I couldn’t kiss you enough,
Cross-eyed crazy in your embrace.
What would it be like to be with you,
From here on out to the end of time?
To wake each morning—look into your eyes,
Taste your lips and inhale your musk.
I’ve waited so long for my dream girl,
Are you the one He sent to me?
A kindred soul on the journey of life;
You’re a wonderful dream I haven’t earned.
Millions of people constantly searching;
Only a few joyfully finding each other at last.
Chuck Connors, January 17, 2010
In the Fields
In the fields lives my loneliness,
Out in the fields in the middle of nowhere.
Totally naked I hide in the grass,
Shivering in the emotional cold.
Staring out to where the people are,
Not interested in what they say or do.
Since you’re gone I’m filled with loneliness,
Not caring whether I live or die.
Chuck Connors, January 19, 2010
Out in the fields in the middle of nowhere.
Totally naked I hide in the grass,
Shivering in the emotional cold.
Staring out to where the people are,
Not interested in what they say or do.
Since you’re gone I’m filled with loneliness,
Not caring whether I live or die.
Chuck Connors, January 19, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Home Again
Picking you up from the airport;
jet airliner bringing you home once again.
Waiting for the plane in the cold wind,
while the sun brings glory to the West.
How long has it been since I’ve touched you?
Almost a million miles ago it seems.
Absence doesn’t get any easier,
when your face won’t leave my dreams.
Seeing your smile, hearing your laugh;
they fill every room that you’re in.
Eagerly searching for you,
finding you at the baggage claim.
Could my mind be playing tricks on me?
Or are you more beautiful than before?
Overwhelmed, I rush to your side;
feeling the resonance of our two smiles.
Feeling your warmth I hug you closely;
safe in each other’s arms—home again.
Chuck Connors, January 15, 2010
jet airliner bringing you home once again.
Waiting for the plane in the cold wind,
while the sun brings glory to the West.
How long has it been since I’ve touched you?
Almost a million miles ago it seems.
Absence doesn’t get any easier,
when your face won’t leave my dreams.
Seeing your smile, hearing your laugh;
they fill every room that you’re in.
Eagerly searching for you,
finding you at the baggage claim.
Could my mind be playing tricks on me?
Or are you more beautiful than before?
Overwhelmed, I rush to your side;
feeling the resonance of our two smiles.
Feeling your warmth I hug you closely;
safe in each other’s arms—home again.
Chuck Connors, January 15, 2010
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Halls of the Dying
Late at night, when only a few ghost-like workers are stirring
I enter the hallowed halls of the dying.
Like a crypt, everything dark, I feel my way from doorway to doorway
hearing the groans and the cries of the dying.
Ghastly sounds reverberate through these forbidden caverns;
lost souls forever grasping for salvation.
Creeping along, my senses alert for hidden dangers
I pause in front of one room and
the smell tells me where I am.
Stepping into the room, almost stumbling over tubing and wires,
I see the form of something on the bed;
it’s chest rising and falling slowly.
Peering more closely at it
I see my father’s body, and my face.
I recoil in horror…
Chuck Connors, January 6, 2010
I enter the hallowed halls of the dying.
Like a crypt, everything dark, I feel my way from doorway to doorway
hearing the groans and the cries of the dying.
Ghastly sounds reverberate through these forbidden caverns;
lost souls forever grasping for salvation.
Creeping along, my senses alert for hidden dangers
I pause in front of one room and
the smell tells me where I am.
Stepping into the room, almost stumbling over tubing and wires,
I see the form of something on the bed;
it’s chest rising and falling slowly.
Peering more closely at it
I see my father’s body, and my face.
I recoil in horror…
Chuck Connors, January 6, 2010
Saturday, January 2, 2010
White Crosses
White crosses alongside the road
honoring the memory of the recently slain.
How did it come that these people died
here—what were they like, while they still lived?
Cars and trucks speed past obliviously,
ignoring the ghosts of the freshly passed.
Each one of us hopes that we’ll still be remembered;
long after we’re gone to the other side.
But what if no one
visited us or mourned?
Left us for dead,
our faces forever forgotten in time.
What must it be like to have a memorial,
all painted and white,
with flowers and trinkets,
alongside a road where no one ever stops?
Chuck Connors, January 1, 2010
honoring the memory of the recently slain.
How did it come that these people died
here—what were they like, while they still lived?
Cars and trucks speed past obliviously,
ignoring the ghosts of the freshly passed.
Each one of us hopes that we’ll still be remembered;
long after we’re gone to the other side.
But what if no one
visited us or mourned?
Left us for dead,
our faces forever forgotten in time.
What must it be like to have a memorial,
all painted and white,
with flowers and trinkets,
alongside a road where no one ever stops?
Chuck Connors, January 1, 2010
Early Morning Departure
Driving you to the airport for an early morning departure,
Wind blowing the rain against the wipers of the truck.
Lifting your heavy bag it thumps on the pavement,
Wondering to myself just what you could have packed?
Ducking out of the storm, bursting into the check-in,
Runaway children caught in a moment of time.
Saying my farewells I look into your eyes;
Wishing you a safe journey, Godspeed to your kin.
Sharing one last long, tender hug;
My eyes linger on you, wanting to remember always.
Dazzled by your smile and the blue of your eyes,
The warmth of your body radiates into mine.
Tearing myself away,
I venture out into the dawn.
Trudge to my truck,
Look up at the sky.
Driving away, lost in my musings.
I smell your perfume, the scent of your hair.
Rolling through the storm, staring at the road;
Praying for your safe return; wishing you were here.
Chuck Connors, December 25, 2009
Wind blowing the rain against the wipers of the truck.
Lifting your heavy bag it thumps on the pavement,
Wondering to myself just what you could have packed?
Ducking out of the storm, bursting into the check-in,
Runaway children caught in a moment of time.
Saying my farewells I look into your eyes;
Wishing you a safe journey, Godspeed to your kin.
Sharing one last long, tender hug;
My eyes linger on you, wanting to remember always.
Dazzled by your smile and the blue of your eyes,
The warmth of your body radiates into mine.
Tearing myself away,
I venture out into the dawn.
Trudge to my truck,
Look up at the sky.
Driving away, lost in my musings.
I smell your perfume, the scent of your hair.
Rolling through the storm, staring at the road;
Praying for your safe return; wishing you were here.
Chuck Connors, December 25, 2009
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