Poetry
poems
trouble

Art by Wicks
Poetry 4   

                                   
            
                                          
TROUBLE

A red tree grew with my concern
It had no leaves, produced no fruit
 "How is it you come to these green hills,
 to thrive under expansive blue sky?"
The red tree answered... not a word.
                                                                 
©Dale Wicks
 

                  
 VERITAS

Does living in truth require happiness?
Put a band aid on a gaping wound...with a smiley face...
within the thin veneer of cheer, is there honesty?
...no not a trace...its a face, out of place...
worn to appease...the rest of race...
Living in truth...you're a blazing inner light...
requires no outward sight for comparison...
filling and consuming in willing vessel...
all the illusion that clings...wet and soggy things...
til you're all that remains...
and the words and the work become flames.

©Dale Wicks
 

SICK OF THINKING

Exasperated...by weak tools provided...which could never grasp the answer entire...eye only glimpses...figuring out flees...brain, brain go away from mind domain...your placement at best would be second...souls scramble to chosen position platforms to rest, then rot...conclusions shift...hop, skip, or jump to next perch...what have we here...should I hold this now dear...perhaps for a moment or a year...for the experience...not for rightness...despite sharp protest...for as soon as it is claimed to have fame...deemed must remain...comes the wrongness...surely not for the security...tis but a blanket...to hid under while you sleep...and dream and concoct and compare...then you share...to be stripped clean or emboldened in current strategy...to face triumph or tragedy...praise, glory, calamity...different meanings...no, same, same...just imagination...in this station...a depot for depositing and claiming...where passengers pause briefly...before catching their train...ticket punched...to next destination.

©Dale Wicks
 

© Dale Wicks

                     
 
                                                   
 FADDISM

Delight with every bubble
The soulless head does birth
Plastic children come to life
And grasp the orbs
for all their worth
"Look, see another fancy,
We love to catch them as they fall"
Never taking thought
that they contain nothing at all.

©Dale Wicks
 

    WITHIN THE LIGHT     
 To Enter,
  To go Down,
    To Surrender,
   TO BE CLEAN….

 No Hiding,
No Siding,
No Rationalizing,
NO FEAR....

  Free to Think,
 Free to Receive,
Free to Love,
FREE TO BE.
                                                                    
 © Dale Wicks

FEARING 97' AND OPENING 02'

RUNNING AGAINST THE WIND

I used to run against the wind
but now I'm worn and tired
On occasion I get fired up
when coffee gets me wired
On sagging days, I'm reticent
and think of time expired
Mortality will have its way
But so will that I've sired.

© Dale Wicks

                                          
 
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