It was your birthday, today… (Draft)

It was your birthday today…
Instead of grief
I celebrated;
Life,
Friendship…

Eternity in a grain of sand…
The flames of your hair cascaded through my hand.
Wherein this love my hope does lie
Within a child’s breath, sweet whisperers fly.

Grieve no less, yet, fear no more.
My heart allows a simple joy.
Such a friendship in childhood made
That even death does naught to fade.

It was your birthday, today,
As well as the day you died.
Yet, now I see,
As long as I live,
Breathe,
And Hope,
You are still alive in me.

It was ten years ago, today…
And yet, instead of grief,
When I raised my glass to you
I celebrated;
Life,
Friendship…

Eternity in a grain of sand…
Your laughter, your fierce friendship,
A choice of family, binding so many of us
Together even after you’ve gone.

Grieving gave way to healing time
Our hearts are allowed the simple joy
Of knowing the mark upon us you made
That even death didn’t fade.

So, as I drink this scotch, tonight,
And through the momentum of life
Your memory has remained vibrant within me.

We see that as long as we continue forward,
As long as I remember to
Live, Breathe and Hope
Within my heart friendship survives.

2009/2011
For ELN

I fly, I exist (draft)

I am here
Though you may not notice
Above the trees I soar
High within the clouds
Looking down upon the earth.
            And so I guard you.

The wind lifts my wings, I
Coast down, my eyes closing
As I sniff the warm Spring air.
Tilting my head, I come to land
My hooves clicking softly on the stone path.
            Though you can not see

This glad is my home
Far beyond the veil of knowing
Into a land where my like reside
Mystic in our presence
Forgotten with time
            And yet we wait

Folding my wings along my back
I walk along the steams edge.
My silken mane falls forward
As I bend to drink;
Crystalline liquid there to quench my thirst.
            And for a moment, I exist.


With a great bellow I toss my 
Head back and rear up.
Muscles stretch as I announce myself
To the world, knowing none could hear me
Yet wishing, just once, for some imagination.
            And then she was there.

A wee thing.
Golden hair falling to waist
Smiling as she look directly at me.
Seeing me.
And enjoying the majesty of it.
            A wee thing, smiling..

She clapped her hands for me.
Laughter floated toward me
Upon the breeze, spurning me forward
With great pride I raced on the wind
Wings spread as it lifted me up.
            I danced in the sky as she watched me fly
 
I am here
And so I guard you.
Though you can not see
And yet we wait
And for a moment, I exist.
And then she was there.
A wee thing, smiling..
            I danced in the sky as she watched me fly

Everything has a beginning

Everyone has a beginning.
On the tree of life we start
As too green leaves
Bright, yet fragile
Sprouting upon wobbly limbs,
Reaching for the sun in the sky.

It is a beginning.

With spring, comes strength.
Buds burst forward.
We are steadier,
As the winds bend us,
Rain revives us, and
The early years melt away.

It is the middle.

Blossoms slowly open
And the days warm—
So do we—Friendships mature
And the paths we’ve taken,
Grow more complex and take many turns.
Roads branch out in too many directions.

The sun beats down upon us and we bask in the freedom of it.

When fall comes, the
Roots of your past conjoin with each other.
They enables and entrap, and
As pages of life fall to the ground,
A multi-colored array of experiences
Scatter to the wind.

This is the wisdom bought and paid for with life.

Winter settles in and wraps
Around you as your roods grow
More and more tangles together
Until by spring again,
They have become one mass,
Showing lifetime of information,
Decisions made and choices taken.

In the beginning, spring
Brought us together with
The subtle beauty of a Cherry tree
From beneath the snow:
Its blooms peeking up
Begging to grow,
And the lifecycle continues
Until the last petal falls.

 

G Skye 2016/2017

 

 

I’ll miss you when you’re gone. (Draft)

The same dance we’ve always had
In the morning and before going to bed
Each step mapping out a certain choice;
As the time draws near I lose my voice.

Where will we be months from now?
When you have found your new niche, tell me how
To form a different sort of connection, still.
Can you feel the gentle bending of my will?

Will you miss me when you’re gone?
Shall the season pass till it has been too long?
And when memory serves us bittersweet,
Will you fall away leaving us so very incomplete?

And yet, as the path of fate looms before me
I know the changes will bring to me,
Chances I might have never known.
But I still wonder, will you miss me when you’re gone?

 

2001

The warmth holds me close… (Draft)

The warmth encompasses me and holds me close
Tight within the arms of awareness, and
Humbling in the sincerity of tenderness.

A candle flickers

Bringing within its light your gentleness.
The slight curve of your face,
The edge of your smile,
Draws me in
As you look down at me with sleepy eyes.

Within those eyes I see trust,
And faith in a self I am unsure of.

Yet it is there, that simple truth,
That absolute belief of someone, me,
To achieve a greatness I have only imagined.
Within your arms, the possiblities are endless…

And I can dream.

2009

How do you tell a person… (draft)

Growing up we read the fairy tales, and
Dreamt of a lady and lake.
Visions of knights valiant in mail
Charging down a winding path
Excited our imagination
As mists floated at the river’s edge.
Whispers of adventure’s pledge were
So close you could feel it
Swirling around you with poignant destiny.

How does one tell a person
That you admire their very soul?

It is not a dress to say
“Oh how pretty’

Oh, No.

It is not even a deep baritone voice
That trembles throughout your very being
As the notes lift your mood to something manageable,
In times of stress and trial.

Though almost like that.

How do you explain that the words spoken
Open a window to that soul,
Touching something so deep within you?
That you feel as though you have been given
A piece,
Ever so slight –
something to ponder–
Before you hand it back,

And smile.

Here.
Now.
Years later when time has faded
All the childhood dreams have turned somewhat jaded
You stand tall, vibrant and true,
So much, like in the fairy tales we once knew.

So, again, how do you
Remind them, that, even with a distance long
And time that moves so fast,
That every day you still are inspired.

The answer, I find,
Is simple and complex and true:
Love.

Love of family,
Love of Spirit and Soul.
You have stood strong,
Been bent, but not broken,
Determinedly carving your way
To your own personal destiny.

Love fills my heart to each time I see
My own true Guenevere charging forward
Mighty and ethereal, as the Lady,
Mother, Friend, and Priestess
I have always known you to be.

What’s with Galen Skye

Hi everyone,

New Website
So obviously, we have moved my site to its own domain and I am really excited about merging my Poetry with my Fiction and Essays. With a poetry book coming out over the summer and two fiction collaborations happening, it just seems like the best time.

Expanded Content
Over the past couple of years I have been asked if I could post about BEING a poet along with posting my poems, and so since people have asked, that’s what they will get. I am looking forward to sharing a lifetime of anecdotes on being a poet, even the part where it snuck up on me that I was!
Meanwhile, I have several new poems to post this week, and I hope you enjoy them and that you enjoy some of the essays that I will be posting from years past. They are going to be archived on the site and when we get them up, I’ll let you know!

Poetry Readings
Mind you, this is going to be a new adventure, but given that I have been recording readings of some of my sonnets (using Original Pronunciation for Shakespeare), I am starting to get a better feel for doing it and a slight better comfort with the entire idea.  What it comes down to, is that I even I prefer to sometimes hear a poet read their words, so why should I be surprised that others want that of me, too.  Keep an eye out!

Whispers in Twilight
My upcoming book “Whispers in Twilight”, a collection of poems written through out my life time up until now, spanning from 1985 (I was 11) to 2016 should be ready for Launch by August. We had some technical difficulties, but I’m feeling pretty confident that I can get things going now that the sun is shining and the ice has melted away.
As things come together, we will have more information, some promotions and a lot of poetry written on the fly to keep me from loosing my mind!

Have a wonderful day and enjoy Spring (it just got here in Michigan.)

Galen

Poem – Enough. (Draft, 2018)

Enough.
I remember the protests of Vietnam.
Barely, but they resonated
In the conversations around me,
The glimpses of students waving signs
That I couldn’t read.
This, at the beginning of my life.
Democracy apparent as people
Gathered to protest a
War that wasn’t called a war.
What is war, then?
This conflict of words that clashes with
Expectations and
Fences with our vision of a free and
Powerful country seems to ignore
Many of the responsibilities that power entails.
I remember standing at the steps of
City Hall in my home town
Protesting the Gulf War
At 18—
Straddling that life moment between
Child and adulthood.
I remember the flash of cameras, the
Press of bodies,
People shouting rhythmic rally cries, and I
Remember feeling self-conscious
As  those words left my own lips.
When the pushing and shoving started,
I let the movement propel me to the
Fringe of the crowd and asked myself,
“Why am I here?”
“Why do I protest?”
I had no answer,
So, I quietly walked away and
Back to my dorm room.
Sitting on my bed in silence
I pondered my freedom of choice.
When planes dove like birds from the sky,
Their targets not just our people, but
Our sense of national security, too,
Leaving it bleeding away on the
Foundation of our country,
War took a more terrorizing and
Sinister meaning.
War can sneak up on you, now.
The game has changed.
Life moved forward, though.
A different, less comfortable life,
But we adapted,
Secured, and
Moved on.
And then, my world stopped.
Thirty-two lives gone,
One, gone, oh god—
There’s that bittersweet
Memory of a past love,
Shattered;  the place in your mind, that
Knows somewhere the people you loved are safe,
Goes quiet,
Extinguished in an instant.
The veil of blissful ignorance and security ripped away.
The silence as the protests and outcries
Are ignored
Slowly engulfs you.
And then more, and more.
Children are dying.
Young lives unlived–
Just a hook on the wall, where a
Small coat still hangs, never to be worn again.
“Where is the War now?” we asked,
Ready for battle.
We have had wars and conflicts. We
Proclaim to fight a never-ending
War on Drugs, and yet,
We quietly walk away as
War is waged
By our citizens
On our Children.
This is more insidious than war.
This is our children dying
While the government that
Swears to protect us
Brandishes empty promises like a
Sword missing its edge.
We have to fight this internal
War of indifference.
As war is a battle between different powers
And the time to take back the
Power of our country is now.
The power must shift and the
Children of this country should be our first priority.
Our future depends on it.
This is a battle worth fighting.
This is why protests exists and
Why compromise is king only when
Progress is made.
Children are rising up and calling for
Change, because no one was listening.
They keep dying and no one is
Heeding their screams.
They keep praying and
No one is hearing their prayers over the
“Ching, ching” of political favors.
Today these Children stood up and said,
“ENOUGH!”
Did you hear them?
Did you see them?
Do you understand that this is
The battle you need to fight today?
This is the stand you take?
Enough.
Before the voices are silenced.
Again.
-G. S. Skye 14 March,2018

On writing poetry…

Yesterday, I posted a poem here and to FB, etc. I deliberately indicated it was a Draft, in part because I wasn’t sure about it. Ironically, the cadence of the poem felt to me much like one that I wrote in 1987 when I was 14 and I worried that it would feel that way to others.
It didn’t.
Yesterday my poem reached people in surprising ways, I got contacted by several people (even my own mom) about it and for different reasons.
This is why I publish my poetry. I write poetry because I am compelled to, I publish because every once and a while, it touches people.
-Galen

Poem- Wish I Could Say (Draft, 2018)

I wish i could say
That it will all be okay,
And that the worry and fear
Won’t consume you.
So many years of the ups and downs;
Of trying to handle it all.
Just remember that this time
You are not alone
Oh my love, my heart and joy,
Would that I could
Wish all of these worries away,
And be a balm on your tired soul.
Instead just know, I am here, my love
And here I shall be
Whenever there is the need;
For oh how I love you so.
G. Skye, 2018 – Draft