Archive for farmimg

when the mind stays awake

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 28, 2014 by bradford graham west

 

in the snow covered garden

the winter melts away

slowly the whiteness goes away

sunshine peaks its face and  says hello

and presents the green grass  of  spring

and while my body sleeps,  my mind stays wide awake

 

my body sleeps and yet my mind stays wide awake

 

i dreamt of a warm touch,

a bridge from what was and what was to dream

a  black and white photograph

ah! there we were

soft as a whisper

loud as an echo –

caught under the spring rain

 

where can you find me?

 

all through the summer

in a wheat field solo

only where dreams meet me –

remember a september

walking through the cool alley ways

down to the river’s bed

i held your hand

 

only can i see

in a town that is

only to a place that is,

only from my window paine

can i see what ive left behind,

and yet everything  i found

the time of what is and was us,

left me blind

 

the eyes that are blind

fire arises and seeks its worth

your liking now only rebirths

the sunlight,  turns to  lamplight

and any found comments get declined

but my eyes are still on you and your game

 

if i still love you

what can i do?

all the things in the past

didn’t last,  oh!

incoherent words and phrases confuse

and as i  turn the heads

but stand strong through the poetic rhyme

 

if my image was to be taken away

i’d still be –

if i was all but  to drain away –

today

everything will still move on

time will still tick,  and the colours will stay the same

and yet everything  of mine  will stay in a field day

 

in the snow-covered garden

the winter will go away

and the sunshine quickly comes says its hello

and presents the green grass  of  spring

all while my body sleeps,  my mind stays wide awake

 

somewhere  i can find you

through this cityscape window

a paradise that awaits

where i found you

that’s also where i lost you

in between the tall buildings and the busy business avenues

that’s where i last saw you

and gave your last kiss

 

words are just words

sliding in some thought inside my world

the right will find the left

and stumble on the tomorrow,  oh !

i’ll move forward,  if i see you again

you’ll see my smile cover the spaces

all in the missing places

 

in the snow covered garden

the winter melts away

slowly the whiteness goes away

sunshine peaks its face and  says hello

and presents the green grass  of spring

my body sleeps and yet my mind stays wide awake

 

my body sleeps and yet my mind stays wide awake

 

 

c.2014  bgw

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to a new season

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 28, 2013 by bradford graham west

. . .  there are so many things i can say, so many things that i want to write.   and reading this may be a little confusing  at first.  but as you re-read it a couple of times, it may make more sense.  there are a couple of ideas i wanted to dive into,  but instead i just let a flow of my thoughts be what it was,  sentence by sentence,  as i wrote them down.   but as i sit at my desk shuffling the sentences and words,  editing, wishing that i had my spell checker,   the early morning  hours that passed by,  greeted the heavy tiredness as it slowly shut my eyelids.  i quickly open them as the aroma of coffee drifts past me.  and there,  in a cup i pour and the steam quickly disappears into the air.   looking up around in my office,   the sunshine shone through the drawn curtain,   dimly illuminating the room,  giving it  a golden glow.   and there i am,  sitting and staring  at a blank page,  doodles on the page were supposed to be the words i wanted to write.  but this writer’s block presented to be something greater,  she is a wonderful distraction.   but that was a while back,  and my mind swims through this persuasion of  numbness,   slowly  drowning in the sea of emptiness.  seeking and searching to fill a void that is as deep as a canyon.   an early morning haze,  driving through this early morning traffic maze.  stop and go and the silence fills the air;   thinking i should have stayed in my dream like daze.   endless thoughts and emotions cover my mind like a thick fog rolling into a cityscape;    she seeped through the cracks of voidance,  everything i kept to myself,  the book that was my life,  tightly shut and put away,  she found it,  and read me well,  she was the only one who knew who i was.   i wasn’t supposed to let that happen,  and now i’m left with the never-ending question of what happened and why.   //   and now, a new season is before me.   just a passing memory comes and go,  like an ember refusing to die.    concrete pillars cast shadows down in between the beams of sunlight radiating the mid afternoon’s heat.   a new season.  standing before me was a challenge –  staring me straight in my eyes.   and i’m looking it down,  ready to take it on.   and as i leave work, i remember that i am no longer in that city,  but i’m in this city.   a new environment,  new surroundings.  i’m blinded,  but by familiar surroundings.   my walk home from work,   the memories that followed me here,  plays peek a boo with my head.    i must move on.  she holds the colour in my world,  but  i must push forward.  this new season that is before me,  the fall leafs are falling through the winter,  and straight into spring,   new leafs.  the sunshine shone through the drawn curtain,   dimly illuminating the room,  giving it  a golden glow.   and there i am,  sitting and staring  at a blank page,  doodles on the page were supposed to be the words i wanted to write.   but this writer’s block presented to be something greater,  she is a wonderful distraction.  a new season,  blindly looking across the way,  what will i find?   will the paths cross again,  lost at sea.  and the doodles on the page were supposed to be the words i wanted to write.   but this writer’s block presented to be something greater.  . . .

c 2013 BGW

harvest

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 3, 2013 by bradford graham west

. . . . . planting bountiful seeds of tomorrow

we watch the flowers bloom

just before i rest,  see the petals softly fall to the ground

the cold wind whips through the air

and the harvest moon shines brightly;

harvesting my soul,  all done in a day’s work,

the harvest of my life,  what will you reap ;  seek,

and you will find welcoming arms

forever  in the fields of tomorrow,  always a possibility. . . . . .

c. 2004, 2013  BGW

a relaitive dream ; searching for the need

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 31, 2013 by bradford graham west

. . . . . . the words of an untamed tongue filled the air.  it started earlier in the day;   a blind sided punch in the face,  by invisible words and an invisible intention.  the smooth flow of the enjoyment of the day,  interrupted by a rip tide of  a hurt feeling.  what we said,  tossing back and forth,  word after word,  like a catcher and the pitcher,  we toss the words back and forth,  until one  errors the ball,  and one becomes victorious.  but as stubborn as both of  us are,  we refuse to give it up,  and we make this mound into a mountain,  never even seeing the damage we are doing.   every word, like a dagger,  with holding the anger;  not wanting to fight;   i hope you can see it.    because the anger can never overwhelm the love i have for you,  the feelings are just too strong,   take it or leave it,   here i am.  we ride this wave,   hold on,   hold on;   here as we save.  the door slams and i am left here,  talking to the walls;    i need you to help me fix this ( quickly).  quietly, opening the door,   i hear your  sobs,   tears ;   there you are,  with your head in your hands.   where do we go from her?.   i hate to see you cry,  and seeing crying breaks my heart.   and the love quickly sneaks back into the temporary cloaked heart.   i stand there,   seeing you sob and i ask myself. ” what i have done?”.    to make you cry,   was never was my intention.  it was a moment where i didn’t think of consequence,  and now im paying the price,  backfiring and hurting myself in the process.   what have i done?   i come quietly,   sitting next to you on the beds edge.   i put my arm around you,    and the comfort warms,   and your head sits upon my shoulder.    calmly,  the words speak,    spoke in a soft manner,    and the environment softens.   and when the explanation rolls out like the red carpet,   we find ourselves there,   in the spotlight.  in this moment,   we become stronger.   a defeat never winning the game,   because we have a lifetime to win the series,   break out of this temporary mold,   and  there i am.   to hold you close,  tell you softly,   im sorry.   the words of an untamed tongue filled the air.   it started earlier in the day;    a blind sided punch in the face,   by invisible words and an invisible intention.   i tell you i’m sorry,    ill pick up the pieces,   a heart like broken glass,  can you pick the pieces of this heart?;

all the thoughts  and all the words;

keep me awake on  some  nights –

the pictures that are in my head

act like a short film;   keep me wanting more

wishing that you were here,  riding through this,  with me tonight

here with me,   i hold you within my arms,  whispering  the love,  filling my heart.  . . . .

the next morning and i awake from my deep slumber.  wipe the sleep from my eyes,  and i leave you there sleeping.   i return to my desk and i start the writing that has built up inside this wondering mind.   there,  i find you and i,   laughing ing in a park,  child in the sandbox;   here we all are.    maybe im the trouble,    and maybe im the paradise.    and that’s where we find each other,    in the sandy paradise,    and i reach out and my fingers touch nothing but the loneliness of emptiness,   and the memory haunts in side .  i need you; to talk to need you.   i reach out,   and my fingers touch nothing.   only the loneliness of emptiness.   haunted by the memory of your presence,   the memory;   never having  passed.   the memory haunted ,  but only sighted by these eyes.   my mind stirs and finds you beside me.  laughing once again, a laughter long since forgotten; where are you now?.   the bodies linger still.  turned to dust,  inhaled by the generations,   no longer recognizably human compasion.   and i am alone.   consumed by and consuming spirits of another sort.  accompanied in conversation by the clink of ice,   in the heavy bottomed glass,  the sloshing  of the scotch within.    i am;   the last king of the lonely.   the face in the end.    the face in the end, there i am.   i wake only in the emptiness,  and you are not there,   you are not there.  but there in the mist of the days dawn,  i come upon the face,  that is you.   oh yeah,  there you are.    but i’ve been lost, somewhere in space,  the coming back down,  maybe wishful thinking,  but here i am anyway,  and waiting, i missed the show.  come back down,  into this atmosphere,  once again, im with you.  and here you are,  hand in hand,  there we are,  giving each other our hearts,  i need you, and you need me.

all the thoughts,   and all the words

keep me awake on  some nights –

the pictures that are in my head

act like a short film;   keep me wanting more

wishing that you were here,  riding through this,  with me tonight

here with me,  i hold you within my arms,  whispering  the love,  the  filling of  our hearts.  we are complete

we are complete. . . . . .

and there, the summers air fills

dry and  unforseen.

where does that leave us?

a faceless memory

forever never saying i love you

never was in my cards,  do you see me, now

with a little discretion,

saying i love you,   and never coming out and saying it

because you already knew it,   and there i am..

trying to say im sorry,  and pretending that im ok,

when im torn in pieces,  deep inside this  heart,  can you pick up these pieces?!!

i need you,  seeking the support in you,  and never seeing you,  and now you are gone

but that’s ok,  and ill be there, catching every tear drop,  every lost  “z” in the snore

here i am,  and here you are,  looking above what we show,  and  this regret turns to promise…

and here we are…..

c. 2013  BGW

the day off, the open road and the old sofa

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 19, 2013 by bradford graham west

. . . . . . . sunday morning,  six a.m.  i wake to the alarm sounding off.   a moment of procrastination and i end up reaching over,  pushing the snooze button,  just one more time.  if only this was the first time doing so,  we’d already be up.  but this is the tenth time or so,  and i don’t want to leave here,  nice and warm,  with you.  i turn over and i wrap my arm around you.  and for the next ten minutes,  im just there,  holding you,  good morning.  i shut off the alarm,  and wipe my eyes  and yawn.  leaning over you,  i kiss you good morning,  and my kiss lingers a little longer.  soft lips and an early morning smile.  //  we wake,  and make our coffee.  a day off,   and we drive off.   we shower and dress, and head out the door in record time.  opening and closing the door,  morning air,  cool and fresh.  into the truck,  and here we go.   i’ll pick the road,  if you just tell me the direction.  picking the road,  and where we end up,  i don’t want to know.  deciding not go to the city,  and though we love it there,  but we aren’t dealing with that traffic today.   small back country road,  open and free,  you and me.  //  driving down the open road,  and a full tank of gas,  here we are.  daylights breaking straight ahead,  beautiful day.  and the pre-dawn grey is rolling away.  slowly the sun glows,  peaking up,  higher and higher.  rolling down the windows,  the air rushing in gently,  and in between shifting of the gears,  you reach over to hold my hand.   traveling down the roads,  you can smell the freshly tilled soil,   let’s get ready to plant.   driving through this country town,  you see all the elder farmers gather at the local gas station,  sipping on their coffees outside, besides their dually trucks,  tip your cap,  ‘morn.   corn field,  soy bean fields,  mixed in with the few local dairy farms.  we drive through the town,  a main street with one blinking red light,  aligned with  mom and  pop stores and  a neon signed corner cafe.   next to the volunteer fire station,  we stop at the local’s  farmers market.  there,  all the produce goods,  all natural,  never touched by the poison.  bright red,  red delicious apples,  homemade pastries,  jams and jellies.  strawberries and berries,  juices and milk, delivered straight from the local dairy farm,  and most importantly,  freshly brewed coffee.  we load up with breakfast food and coffee,  heading out, we continue.   leaving that part of town lead us to the middle of no mans land,  farmland,  and a well placed billboard or two.  an old red barn,  a shiny silo and  grain elevator,  accompanied by a grain fed semi.  horses roam the pastures , and cows grazing the grassy fields.  car games,  and  conversations,  fill the surrounding air.  and when a minute of silence came through,  the sound of the tires rolling over an occasional crack in the road filled the void.  thump – thump, thump – thump,  all in a timed rhythm.  the bright sunshine eclipses the next towns mileage sign.   but we know its coming up because there are houses up on the horizon.  civilization.  gas stations and a town square.  and the antique malls are flirting among the flea market form.  pulling over to their parking lot, restroom break.  we run in and are greeted by the smell of old history items and popcorn.  a weird combination, quickly gotten used to,  quickly forgotten.  but as i wait for you to return,  i start looking around, and get lost among the collectables and old lp records.  concentrating on looking,  im interrupted by you sneaking up behind me,  startling me , you laugh and say “gotcha!”.   booth among booth we look and look some more,  trying to justify every cool looking thing that would go great in our home.  an old seven-up metal sign, a hotel neon sign,  a fox wrap and a victrola,  laughing,  we pass it all up;  until you came across this victorian sofa,  fell in love it and gave me a hundred reasons on why we needed it.  i stand firm on my not finding a reason,  and you pull your ace out;  puppy dog eyes and a pretty please.  and  i’m trumped. why in the world would we need a victorian sofa?  and everything we own is so not victorian.  i think the oldest thing in our possession is maybe, 1990’s, not 1890’s.  but you continue your puppy eyes and pretty please pout,  and i have no choise but to cave in.  finding something so special in this couch,   you win.   you know just how to weaken me,  until i cave,  and i just laugh and shake my head.   walking up to the front, i pay.  receiving help loading it up into the truck,  you tell me not to scratch it,  but nevermind that it’s from the victorian age,  and has never been scratched once through a hundred and twenty some-odd years.   hearing my sarcasm,  you jokingly slap my arm.  after i get it all tied down,  we hop back in the truck and you beg to get back home so we can make room for your new-found treasure.   we turn back towards the way we came in,  and down the block we stop to refuel .  and once again a full tank and an open road.  car games and open conversation,  and of course the conversation turns to brainstorming on how to rearrange the living room.   as the conversation fades and  sleepiness settles in,  and you lean your head on my shoulder and doze off.   driving back through the same scenes and farm fields.  the same small town,  but all the farmers are now either eating supper or off to bed to get their early starts for the next day.  the sun sinks lower in the sky, and i need to stretch.  almost home i wake you.  up the road,  coming home.  home stretch.  i pull into the drive and shut off the engine.  all excited you hop out and run to open the front door.  and before i am even done with the first strap,  you’re back to help carry it in.  and as we carefully pull it off the truck,  i jokingly remind you not to scratch it,  and you give me “the look”.  backing it in,  maneuvering it around the corner and into the family room,  we set it down.  you move a couple of things and i put it in the spot you point to.  against the wall facing the window,  there we sit.  trying it out,  i put my arm around you and you lay your head on my shoulder.  “this place works for now,” you tell me,  as you begin  to doze off again.  i could stay here all night, sitting and day dreaming,  but you grab my hand and lead me to bed.  night time.  good night.  and as we climb up the stairs,  i tell you  that im glad that i talked you into getting the sofa,  because it looks real nice in its new home.  we laugh and change and slide into bed.  i turn over and i wrap my arm around you.  and for the next ten minutes,  falling asleep,  im just there, holding you,  wishing that the day never has to end.  but as long as i have her to wake up to,  i don’t mind facing the end of a day. 

 

 

c.2013  BGW