Writing A Poem.Com

Courage Is Required

for Alan

“Oh I reckon,
I reckon I'm a cowboy,"
I wrote in careful, deliberate script
Upon the first page of what would be
The treasured notebook of the new American Shakespeare.

The muse was speaking
And I was listening
When my older, less literary brother appeared,
Yanking the notebook from my hand,
Reading my first half stanza
And laughing.

It would be weeks before he stopped taunting:
"I reckon I'm a cowboy!"
His deeply intimidating stare
Mocking me,
Humiliating me for daring just a little transcendence.

The years have turned my attention,
More practical pursuits,
Yet the muse still faintly calls.
I take pen in hand and see my brother's face,
His mocking, disapproving eyes.

O yes,
The troubled path of the poet.
Courage is required.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Incarnation

Each morning I awaken as a child,
Staring wide-eyed into the bathroom mirror.
I wash my face,
Then sip a cup of coffee,
Or two,
And I am a young man,
Full of ambition for the new day.

Midday I withdraw from battle
To refuel and recharge,
Determined to vanquish before the sun has set.

By late afternoon I am middle-aged,
Defeated and disappointed by the limitations of the day.

After dinner,
Sitting on the couch watching television,
I am an idle old man,
Too afraid of inner demons for quiet contemplation.

By midnight I drag myself off to bed,
Resigned to the grave,
To insignificant nothingness.

It is a fitful sleep that awakens me at 3 a.m.,
And in the absence of task and purpose,
I am Buddha,
Knowing reincarnation is just a few hours away.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

You

I love what is unfinished,
Unfolding,
Undecided,
Free from certainty,
Curious,
Growing,
Eagerly embracing change,
Surprised by each new day,
Listening for the voices of angels,
Ready for a miracle . . .

You.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Five Bees

Five bees drowning in a swimming pool,
Caught by a reflection,
A sparkling promise of pollen,
Waterlogged.

Once they touch down the mirage disappears
And they are caught,
Their sodden wings can no longer fly.

Seeing tiny ripples in the water from their struggles
I take my net and lift them out
Onto concrete warmed by the morning sun.

Two are not moving,
But the other three have begun grooming,
Abdomen and thorax,
With every available leg,
Diligently scraping off water.

One is still so exhausted
He cannot keep his balance and tumbles over
From the disproportionate weight of water
Still clinging to one side of his body.

With a leaf stem I help restore his balance
So his meticulous grooming can continue,
So the sun can dry his cellophane wings.

The strongest of the three revs up his wings in a blur
Moving in short bursts across the cement,
His legs still giving support,
Testing.
Then he lifts into the air,
Restored.

Perhaps the other two were in the water longer,
For it takes more grooming and warming
Until they too are free from the terrible gravity of the ground.
Or perhaps they are less bold?
It’s hard to fathom the personality of a garden bee.
They may be older, more sentimental,
More shaken by the sight of their two dead comrades
Lying on their backs,
Legs pointed toward heaven,
Without purpose.

Why?
They might wonder,
If they were anything at all like you and me.
Why did God spare only three?

They do not know what we know,
That when it comes to saving lives,
Some will stay,
Some will go.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Playground

We are the little children of God
Who decided we want to do things on our own.

So God said, “OK,”
And put us here in this playground.

We’re still learning how to play together nicely.

We’re a bit slow.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Almost Enough

O circumstance,
Enemy of dreams,
Unyielding wall
That keeps us apart.

Circumstance like science
Cannot be wished away,
Will not be denied,
Only overcome by those
Who allow desire to overcome reason,
A perilous course,
Full of grave consequence.

You and I weighed such consequences
And turned away from love’s unreasoning madness,
Wounded,
Scarred,
Yet saved from eternal sorrow by the words:
I will always love you.

I am not alone.
You love me,
Still.

It’s almost enough.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

When I Am With You

There is a part of me that awakens
When I am with you.

Not that I had forgotten.
No,
Not a single day goes by
That way.

I remember everything.
The blush on your cheek,
The tiny pink ribbon on your delicate white dress,
The curve of your shoulder,
Your restless sleep.

All my memories are charged with emotion,
But they are reflections of the past.

When I am with you
There is a part of me that awakens,
That memory cannot recreate.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

The Real Thing

True,
Incomparable love
Comes when your heart finds a home.

It may not last,
But if you’ve ever found it,
You’re one of the lucky ones.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Don't Take This Literally

I’ve been way too coherent lately,
Too literal.
Some of my more artistic friends
Blush
At my naive,
Prosaic,
Prose.

I actually use the words
“Love,”
And “heart,”
Even “God,” for “Pete’s sake.”

I “dream”
And sometimes I am “sad,”
Sometimes full of “hope” and “joy.”

I apologize to my more sophisticated friends
For my unadorned simple-mindedness
And would darken coherence with obfuscation
But alas,
I am “too far gone”
And cannot ignore the entreaties of the angels
Who whisper in my ear:
Persevero, persevero,
Dulce et decorum est.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Life

They're coming,
We're going.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Almost

I’ve said so many things
To so many,
I’ve almost convinced myself.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

The Word

For some writers,
Immortality comes with one great novel,
A few immutable poems,
An eternally anthologized story,
Or you might be Shakespeare.

I am old,
Started late,
No great novel fluttering within,
Eager to take wing and soar.
My most productive days
All squandered.
My poetry is stale,
My stories all the same story
Told over and over again
In flimsy disguise:
Life is,
Disappointment,
Ad nauseam.

I never wrote a play,
Too lost to suggest any course of behavior,
Even to an actor.

All my ambitions have come to this,
The search for a word,
A word that cries out the anguish of existence,
The bliss of realization,
The inner peace of infinity,
A fiery crucifix blinding the eyes of evil,
Raising the dead,
Ceasing confusion and argument,
A word that will place a single seed of knowing
Within the mind of all who hear,
A seed that will grow into a mighty oak of being,
An impenetrable fortress of being,
A universe of being,
Being without boundaries.

Scholars, close your books.
Suburbanites, turn off your televisions.
Cast off all entertainments and listen.
Quiet now.
Can you hear it?
Listen.
O word that is no word,
No idea,
No sound,
O word that is no word,
I summon you forth.
Quiet.
Listen.
The word is here.
It has always been here.
Listen.
The word is here.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Who Is I?

Who is I?

My likes and dislikes?
My opinions?
My desires?
My hope?
My fears?
My faith?
My family?
My friends?
My dog?
My cat?
My goldfish?
My daily life?
My comings and goings?
My work?
My accomplishments?
My failures?
My past?
My future?
My reputation?
My image?
My body?
My brain?
My thought?
My spirit?
My soul?
My God?

My my!
Who is I?

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Sliding

I’ve let whole days slip through my fingers,
Whole years,
Decades squandered making money,
Buying stuff,
Carefully packing it all into boxes,
Unpacking it again,
Fixing things up,
Throwing things away,
Going to different places
And coming back again.

I’m sliding down hard ice,
Faster,
No meaning,
Faster,
No feeling,
Faster,
No bottom in sight.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

I Awaken

Ordinary life,
A blessing really,
For those of us who have it.
Food,
Shelter,
Friends and family,
Something to do.

Yet something sleeps in ordinariness.

Even the fire of love becomes familiar,
Predictable.

Yet, when you look through my eyes,
Into my heart,
I awaken.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

I Am Called

Your smile calls across the room,
Across time and incarnation,
Calls from the past,
From the future.

You smile and I am called,
Into the eternal now.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Cold Water

It’s been nearly forty years
Since my grandfather died,
A father to my troubled heart,
Though I have yet to learn all his lessons.

We would walk and talk
And he filled me full of ideas,
Ideas I was nowhere near ready to use,
Knowing, when I was ready,
He’d be gone.

One morning he taught me how to wake up,
To wash my face with cold water
The very first thing,
To wash away sleep and clear the mind.
I was young and woke up hard,
Too hard for the shock,
Especially when the weather was cold,
Too fragile.

Now, the cold water wakes and refreshes me,
Washes away sleep and clears my mind.
Now, with every drop of water upon my face,
My grandfather is with me, still.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Seeing

Take everything you know,
Write it down on a blank sheet of paper,
Then fold the paper and put it in an envelope.

Say out loud:
Here is all I know, all I have learned,
As you light the envelope on fire,
Watching it burn to ashes.

Now walk freely into the world and see everything,
No longer masked by certainty.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

The Afterlife

The afterlife will not be unfamiliar.
It will look very much like today,
A place with mornings and evenings,
Just a few small changes,
Change continuing at its usual pace
With all the occasional upheavals,
Depending on where we are,
Who we are.

For those of us who believe in heaven,
Heaven will slowly appear.
For those who refuse contrition,
Hell will remain.

The possibility of change and growth will remain,
For all of us,
Change and growth,
Confusion and revelation.

We will share where we live with others,
With friends,
Strangers,
With those who are kind
And those who are not.
We will help or hurt them,
Or ignore them,
And they will help or hurt,
Or ignore us in turn.

We will witness the working of change upon our lives
Without certainty about the future,
For the future will be malleable.
There will be times when the old fear returns,
When we contemplate that our existences, however new,
May be extinguished.
Yet joy and hope will temper the anxiety of unknowing,
Reassurance that we need not fear eternity.

The afterlife will not be unfamiliar.
It will start tomorrow morning,
As usual.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

The Song

This light breeze sings
A music only plants can hear,
Moving leaves and shadows in rhythms
Then still,
Pianissimo,
Allowing the warm counterpoint of the sun
To swell,
Then rising again,
Stronger now,
Reinterpreting a theme.

While we oh so busy worrying,
The song of the Earth plays on.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

My Word

Last night an angel came.

I will give you one word
And you must take this word into your heart
And live this word,
Eat and drink,
Inhale and exhale this word.
Absorb this word into your blood,
Into every particle of your being.

The angel bent low and whispered into my ear:

Is!
Then dissolved into air.

O preachers with all your discourse,
Your obedience,
Your years of theological parsing,
Construction and reconstruction,
Your lessons,
Now I must put them all aside.

I have my word to work on.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Welcome To New York

Easy to feel sorry for someone with no home,
Imagine shelterless days and nights
Picking through trash discarded food,
Penetrating heart-shivering cold,
Angry voices.

I have felt sorry,
Given money,
Prayed,
Expressed righteous outrage
At indifferent tolerance.

I entertain such thoughts and feelings,
Yet in a corner of a New York City subway station
The feet of a homeless man
Were mud-stained,
Calloused, cracked, bleeding, swollen yellow-purple,
Each toenail turning black.

He was curled up like a kitten,
Lost in shivering sleep,
The winter chill coming on.

Easy to feel sorry,
To give money,
To relieve conscience with care and concern.
But who will wash this man’s feet?
Who will put salve on this man’s wounds?
Who will reassemble his life?
Who can?

I left him there.
We all walked by and left him there,
His wounded feet exposed to everyone,
Looking like Christ’s feet must have looked,
Nailed to the cross.
Actual, physical evidence,
The painful journey of an abandoned soul.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

There Are Words

There are words that lead into words,
That pull you in like the sudden spike
Of a strong drug,
Words whose meanings unfold,
Revealing layer upon layer,
Myriad thoughts,
The petals of old roses,
Shark teeth.

But each revelation is incomplete,
Relies on the understanding
Of an additional equation
Always a few pages ahead.
It is gravity in reverse,
Where conclusion precedes supposition,
A house of mirrors for the mind.

There are words that lead away from words,
That do not command,
Less than certain,
They paint a cerulean sea
And tell how the pelican folds his wings in flight
Like a collapsed umbrella
And dives into a shoal of sardines,
Shimmering,
Silver,
To satisfy his hunger.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Peace And Quiet

I had almost reached some eternal state of bliss
When my reverie was rudely interrupted
By my birth.

I need not tell you of the emotional quagmire
That is life.

I have suffered less than many.

Yet just when things began to settle down
My reverie was rudely interrupted
By my death.

Perhaps now I can finally get some peace and quiet.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Special Delivery

The Old Cat Sighed

When?

What It Is

This is,
What it is.

Now we know.

We thought it was something else,
Way back then,
When we were ignorant
And thought we knew.

This is,
What it is.

Now we know.

And I have decided
It’s up to me
To tell you so.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

A Home In My Heart

Testing

Testing,
Testing.
Testing one, two, three,
Testing.
Onetwo, Onetwo,
Check onetwo.
Can you hear me back there in the cheap seats?
Am I coming through?
Testing,
Testing.
One, two, three,
Testing.
Should I turn it up?
Can you hear me?
Should I turn it up?
Give me a little more juice here.
Testing testing onetwo onetwo.
Refuse to comply with your capitalistic masters.
Testing onetwo,
Onetwo.
Louder?
You want it louder?
REFUSE TO COMPLY WITH YOUR CAPITALISTIC MASTERS!
Testing onetwothreefour,
Testing.
Tear down the system.
TEAR DOWN THE SYSTEM!
Testing.
Checkin’ one two,
Check, check,
Onetwothreefour.
A little louder please.
Revolution.
Revolution now!
REVOLUTION NOW!
Testing,
Onetwo,
Threefour,
Testing,
Testing.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

In The Wind

Love is in the wind,
A rootless passion,
A bird in flight,
An annunciation.

Love comes,
Love goes,
That is our illusion,
For we are the wind
And our passions are birds in flight,
Touching down here and there,
While love,
Like air,
Is everywhere.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved