Ten little soldier toes
are marching along.
All lined up in rows
singing a song.
The pinkies are the infantry
and vow to stay the course.
The rings toes are the cavalry
perched astride their horse.
The middle are brave musketeers
with rifles at their side.
The index are chevaliers
brandishing their pride.
The big toes are the king and queen
though which is which cannot be gleaned.
I hear the pounding on the wall
which is surely being worn
by the fury of the squall,
by the raging of the storm.
I see falling torrents of rain
drifting o’er road and grass,
clinging to the window pane,
and tapping on the glass.
I can smell it in the breeze
through the opened window’s screen
carrying the scent of trees,
musty and yet somehow clean.
And I can feel it getting stronger
gearing up to last even longer.
I meet you by the door
and pin you ‘gainst the wall.
And when you can’t take any more
I drag you down the hall.
I tease you out of every thread
until your flesh is bare
and lay you down upon the bed,
atop a halo of your hair.
I discard my clothes
and draw up to your side
and watch the blushing rose
that you shyly try to hide.
And, at last, we begin
our long-awaited night of sin.
I listen for the song
every time that I go out.
I can’t help but sing along
and sometimes dance about.
I hear it in the breeze,
howling through the moors,
stirring up the trees,
and racing ‘long the shores.
I hear it on a sunny day
and more-so from the moon
in every golden, glowing ray
and each quiet, silver croon.
The voice of the world soul
out and about for a stroll.
I had a picture in my head
of the man I wanted to be
but I’ve settled instead
on this fragile forgery.
I don’t know what transpired
that turned my dreams aside
or what forces conspired
to crush them ’til they died.
But I can feel the holes
where they used to dwell;
all the shining goals
before they burned out and fell.
Forcing me, at last, to part
with the me I carried in my heart.
One day while walking down the street
I met a man who hung his head
down terribly low in defeat
without so much as a crust of bread.
I offered him some food
and sat down for a while
and knew that I’d done good
by his contented smile.
And as the time flew by
I listened to his story
and then he asked me why
I cared for his history.
“I stopped today and shared this meal
because I know how eating alone feels.”
I kneel before the Goddess
humbled in her sight.
And I come here to confess
my love for her tonight.
She makes the forest and the field,
the mountain and the hill;
makes me weak and makes me yield
yet provides me with my fill.
Underneath the moon
I listen to her song,
a sweet, shimmering tune
that makes me feel like I belong.
And it’s only because of her grace
I feel that I have found my place.
One day while idly waiting
I saw a sight divine
I wasn’t anticipating
walking in the sunshine.
Her hair was bright as gold
and she held her head up high.
Her dress was vivid, short, bold,
and the color of the sky.
I couldn’t help but look
and watch her hips sway
with every step she took
as she walked along my way.
I sat there, slack-jawed, and observed
every hint of every curve.
I’m getting ready to go out and dine
with fine company
to enjoy some new cuisine and wine
and camaraderie.
I’m showered and I’m clean
but I’m leaving the beard.
Would it be OK to wear some jeans
or would that be too weird?
I researched the venue
and found out the address
and I’m dreaming of the menu
with impatient eagerness.
Now all that’s left to do is wait
until it’s time for my dinner date.
Boots polished until they shine
by soldiers standing tall and fit
arranged proudly in a line
as brothers, friends, a unit.
They fight for a noble ideal
and carry the banner high
with nerves and backbones of steel
charging forward through the sky.
But they just were not ready
for what was in store
and they could not stay steady
before the true horror of war.
Only some came home carrying their valor,
their haunted eyes, and deathly pallor.
A (wise) man of two faces 