On the Ground in Kuwait

The vast sun eases over the wide horizon
Decorating this pale sea of earth in beautiful color.
The tranquil air is chill and crisp. Silence reigns.
I am far from home in this desert,
Making a journey to war 100’s of miles north.
This ocean of sand pulls and pushes me
Gently, rhythmically.
I am afloat this morning and out of reach.

As yet there is no war on this plane
This desert is soothing and beautiful
It slows my racing thoughts and heart
It focuses me on its antiquity

I breathe deep here as we pause our journey
And I consider my place in the uncertain future
Upon these ancient sands.

12 Nov 05

This is the most recent version of this one. I have been editing all of the ones from Iraq and I liked this one. Kuwait was like a dream sequence. Our circadian rhythms were all messed up from flying there and the anticipation was smothering. Then the desert just stretches out in front of you as far as you can see until it blends with the horizon. I felt so small.

A Lament for Summer

The summer rests now beneath the leaves
Amid the shallow running puddles
The cold is upon us despite our protest

Where are we now that winter has come?
Our summer revelry has melted to echo
And the drear fall left our hearts glazed

This winter's sad affect writes itself upon us
We are not eager to meet it among the pines
Our life has become narrow, held to heat

And thus we find ourselves indoors, and out of focus
Deciding whether we are ruled by the temperature
Or simply have nothing better to do.

Written 25 Oct 04.

This was written in the wee hours of the morning as I worked a night shift. I've found that my thoughts flow better late at night. Maybe because I am too tired to edit them as they come. Anyway, this has not been edited at all. I wanted to call it "Lament because I can't go camping anymore", but that seemed a little long and manipulative to the reader. I actually love the winter, I've written much more about my love for the snow and the cold. This poem though is my desire for a couple more weeks of fall.

Crescendo To Midnite

One day at the dinner table my dad described the fireworks on New Year's Eve in Italy as a "crescendo to midnight". The moment I heard that phrase I left the table and wrote it down. At that point it signified to me that the best part of the day was going to bed and dreaming. Since that sort of angsty depression has died in me, now I just enjoy the phrase as a piece of poetry and beauty. It reminds me to end each day well.

This is one of my favorite things I've ever written. It captured my feelings perfectly, and I love how the words sound together. I love early morning light.

Now the fates have me,

I slip between daylight

and a dream

Awake to see the

gentle eastern light.

A kiss goodnight -

I kiss her and stare

The sheets caress

My mind to slumber.

Daylights flutter past.

I am awake again

momentarily, in

the fading western night.

She sleeps without

Imagination

I sleep perchance to live

I am congratulated

Through it all

There is nothing worse.

A chase to sweat, bleed

To swim, to live, and squeeze

Out of life - purity

But no one is here

Her mouth is slightly open

And I am still me.

.

I live in crescendo

to midnite

The rising...

The rising action of the light

is but to fade to blue

And set

Written 3 Dec 03.