There Are Treasures Above Us - A poem of time off the streets

Amid the banks of smog,
the lights of streets and homes
combine with those from the businesses
to wash out the stars.

So, it is a treat
to escape the city at times
and see the splendor of night
tossed across Heaven's great vault.

This was my holiday treat,
a trip out off the streets
deep into the less populated lands
to close out a cabin.

There I looked up happy,
watching Orion rise above the mountains
even his bow strings showing clearly
through the atmospheric disturbance twinkles.

Found my glasses need replacing
as only six stars I counted
when gazing into Pleiades cluster carefully
where once I saw seven.

Letting my eyes dance across
following the vast white Milky Way
from east to west while grinning,
my smile wreathed in smoke.

The folks chided bad habits
not realizing what I indulged in
that night was not the pipe,
but the beauty of night.

Later, I went out again,
looking east to Bear River Mountains
and seeing the Hunter's dogs rising
Sirius now clearing that dark horizon
and hints of Procyon's coming.

I moved westward with eyes,
seeking other old friends up there.
Seeking the bull facing ol' Orion,
and the Hyades wide 'V'.

Then over to the hill
which cloaked most of Cygnus
save brilliant Deneb, still circling around
on her path across sky.

And just to the south
lay the window to the Universe
where four stars mark the corners
holding in distant, old galaxies.

Each star has a name
though my memory has lost most
even ones I once knew well,
but the years stole away.

I wanted to look north,
but terrain and the cabin's bulk
blocked everything beyond Cassiopeia's crown
and Perseus with his devil-star.

A few faint meteor tails
creased the night's deep black occasionally,
amid the brilliant and dim lights
I view as Yule's lights.

When I gave up, chilled,
I walked back inside, tweaking words
into what you read here now,
hoping they can move you.

The stars are my friends,
never really leaving me all alone,
just shoved aside by others pollutions
that they claim prevents crime.

Me, I think folks forget
the greatest treasures we all possess
are the memories of Nature's shows
walking through our lives constantly.

So, next time you travel
if it is in the night,
pull off the road you travel
look up, and collect treasures...

...and share them with family,
friends, or just some passer-bys.
You'll keep the joy and wonder,
finding it easier to carry
than most other treasured items.
29November2013 - Dyfedd Rex

The Stalkers and Lurkers Abound - A poem of today's streets

You see them stalking
bundles of pure rage
high on some drug
looking for a fight,
making one when able
just to notch guns
they don't (hopefully) carry.

This year is different.
Worse than last year,
beyond the memories held
by the chronically homeless,
they all talk daily
about these proddy punks
and the fights avoided.

Already, the word's out.
Watch your backs, fellas,
these wannabe's are hunting,
looking for hair's hesitation
then marking that person
as one to roll
when the opportunity presents.

Been seeing them around,
hanging out at Library,
stalking the streets wildly,
lurking around convenience stores,
waiting for their prey,
that one who forgot,
and flashed his roll.

Not just money sought,
but your precious gear,
sleeping bags are tight,
so they're going pricey
as all the agencies
gave out their last
months ago, if had.

Electronics, cell phones, food
and the SNAP cards
all in high demand,
and easy to move
when the cops leave
to respond to fights
sometimes staged as diversions.

Hug the lights nightly,
yet use shadows wisely
to check your six,
making sure your safe,
not followed to camp,
where they invade often
seeking off guard moments.

This is the life,
it ain't easy, folks.
Nerves begin to fray
as we stay tense
for far too long,
never able to relax,
lest we seek death.

I watch them myself,
trying to see clues
as to who scored,
who's still hunting prey,
and who's just lurking
itching for a fight
to make a name.

9October2013 - Dyfedd Rex.

Looking at the building storm - A poem of today's Weather

Rippled dark stratus clouds
cast the Wasatch into shadows
that leave those rugged peaks
looking ominous this morning.

Grey haze in the valley air,
dust kicked up on warm winds
as the seasonal shift begins
and the pattern speeds up.

First cold storm of the Season,
those dark peaks will change
as a mantle of white falls
across those shoulders this week.

Camp is abandoned, for now,
as I seek a bit easier place
to move in and out of daily
heeding my gut feelings today.

Looking out, the trees sit
still compared to waves yesterday,
a sea of deep greens for now,
though hints of Autumn peak out.

Looking up at the foothills,
and the center of the range,
still no great color cascades
amid the trees up there.

Doesn't matter a bit, though.
I know the aching bones speak
to others as well as me
of Winter's cold hand reaching out.

The mountains remain dark today
and my thoughts turn that way
feelings of despair peak through
only to get crushed heavily
... by laughs over two "tag-you're-it" squirells.

25September2013 - Dyfedd Rex, Looking at the building storm

Reflections on Things - A poem of today's whispers

Just had long conversation
with an outreach team member,
about the thngs we both see oft
among the homeless issues.
Funny the views being shown
from our different angles,
how they hear one thing put forth
and we see another in force.

And all this amid whispers
of a scandal rattling trees
still just ripples stirring pond
before the tsunami lands
drowning out the daily needs
of those who are desperate
for some assistance to leave
this horrid homeless lifestyle.

Rumors abound this last week,
and yet we see little movement
towards any meaningful acts
that might really address issues.
But who cares now anyway.
We are just homeless scum bums,
or so folks say as we pass
moving about the town's bleak streets.

One thing I see now, too late,
this ain't some easy problem
solved just with money tossed fast
into the winds so wastefully.
No, it will require deep thought
over the underlying things
that create this problem now
for Society to fix.

But where to start the actions?
Is it wise to race forward
with plans for internment camps?
Or start communes for our use,
without thought given to needs
like how to clean us all up?
Obviously, you folks ain't,
but you all may be Nazis.

I used that nasty N word
to get your attention a bit.
Look, here is the harsh truth folks.
That is never the answer.
It's time to look at problems
with an eye towards fixing things,
the right way, first time around
not some slapped together plan.

So, pull your heads out, you fools.
You help perpetuate this mess,
not by giving things freely
but failing to hold out hope.
Have you hired the homeless,
or one long-term unemployed?
Have you rented to those down
on luck and money of late?

Don't spout Christian platitudes
mixed with selfish attitudes.
For a change, walk the right path,
and do as your Saviour said.
Not saying asking us to rise
and make progress is wrong path,
but do it with some mercy,
realizing our status.

I won't claim we are angels,
and while some may be demons,
not all fit that bill either.
And, yes, some of you reached out
only to be burnt by us,
but remember we're human
and make mistakes, just like you,
and sometimes avoid them too.

Can you honestly look deep
into eyes in the mirror?
Will they pass on your misdeeds?
Or condemn you for failing?
More dimensions surround us
than just the plane of tough love.
Do you have what it will take
to walk in our shoes a mile?

Try it. I dare ya.

18September2013 - Dyfedd Rex

The Rewards of Subtle Sunsets and Patience - A poem of photography and nature

A dull grey evening

not a hint of color

as I chased one last sunset

and looked at slate skies

worried nothing would show.

 Hints of pink lay

far off to the north

barely showing to my lens

beyond detail range of zoom

which was digitally supplied

Across the railyard's remains

past that band dropping rain

in scattered showers I could see

that a trip south tonight

might have held rewards.

Too late to change

stuck with the venue here

I waited patiently just to see 

if that slim break westward

over the islands grew. 

So I goofed around

playing with limited F stops

seeing what I could salvage yet

of the night's simple beauty,

staying away from trouble.

Looking southeast, over downtown

Olympus and Twin Peaks stayed clear

save the bands of precipitation flirting briefly

to lay thin snowy hints

of the week ahead. 

Play of windowed light

finding a chasm amid billows

whose dark bottoms gave me contrasts

to show Nature's gorgeous shadows

on mountains and foreground.

Many frames sunk in

permeating memories, silicon and carbon

when northward glance caught the light

as far-off curtains burned

over another city there.

Bit north of west

the gap kindled at last

outlining Stansbury Island with rich pinks

and making me think softly

'tis my money shot. 

A few more clicks

about to give up finally

and seek a bunk and food

when out of the corner

my eye noted rays.

Two steps forward hesitating

not sure what I could catch

and God's paint brush moved swift

laying out the beams subtly

amid the grey world

So short a display

barely time to record it

as the rays descended westward swiftly

leaving only skyfire broken harshly

by smokestacks and lightpoles. 

Thank you, World.

For this

Bliss. 

Gazes that begged for someone to start something - an older poem..

Eyes met,
and that was all for the moment
they both looked away shamed
that there was no reason at all
to move to the other.

Eyes met again,
This time the longer stare
of one measuring the other
with the distance between
still a daunting chasm.

Eyes met thrice,
longer locking of the watchers'
orbs in the test of willpower
each desiring the conversation
neither with the courage.

Eyes meeting again and again
throughout the night as the bar fills in
and the chasm grew to greater width
glints in eyes begging to move but each
waiting on the other.

Eyes gaze one last time
each sad the other showed no interest
in outward signs they could read
to meet and make desires bloom,
and thus part ways...
                                  ...forever?
(2010) Dyfedd Rex
This one came from a challenge of sorts, it was some word someone found, in another language about gazes that convey meanings... I liked the imated, and this poem formed around it. Some day I will come back and play with the word choice and punctuation.... but not now...