Category: 2010s

Draft (2019) – I am not ready

Draft (2019) – I am not ready

I am not ready.

Today when my child came home from school I turned off the TV and
The unending reports of scared children after yet another shooting.
He curled up on my lap and didn’t notice the sudden lack of news.
Instead, he hugged me tight and told me of his day.

He hugged me tight, not knowing how much I needed
His small yet strong little arms wrapped up in mine
His wonderful, animated face full of love and excitement.
He talked of future days in school
And I grasped that thread of hope and clung to it;
I clung so tight that I hugged him again and thought not for the
First time—

I am not ready.

I am not prepared to talk to this precious child
About the realities of life.
I am not yet able to formulate the words that
Someday will fray the edges of the safe blanket
He has wrapped around him, that school is safe.
School should be safe, dammit.
It should be a place where children can learn and grow and
Take flight with learning and imagination.
School should be safe.

I am not ready.
So I hugged him back.

14 November 2019

Draft (2019) – My Brother is many things

Draft (2019) – My Brother is many things

My brother is many things:
Charming, annoying, honorable, chivalrous
Funny, playful, stubborn, oh so stubborn and
Incredibly smart— of mouth and brain.
Having a friend isn’t quite the same as having a sibling.
There’s just something more and different and if you’re lucky
A very special bond that defies all.
Having a brother, well, that’s a strange and wonderful thing.
It’s like having a best friend, champion and nemesis
All carefully wrapped up in a
Neat package of strength, tempered with a touch of vulnerability—
Accented with a playful punch,
Strong hugs, a smirk and a knowing look
That can say more in a second than a lifetime of words.
Having a brother isn’t always a choice.
Finding your brother as an adult when you never even knew you
Needed him…

Is a gift.

4 November 2019

Draft (2019) – Snuggles on a Saturday

Draft (2019) – Snuggles on a Saturday

Snuggles on a Saturday morning are the best.
Warm, sweet child molded into my side,
A contented smile on his face
As we watch a favorite movie
And I drink my tea.
The occasional hug,
The cheerful laugh,
And mischievous grin
As slowly, ever so slowly he shifts
Watching me closely from beneath his fringe.
Wow! Such cold feet!

2 Nov 2019

Galen Skye - Poetry - Snuggles on a Saturday
Draft (2019) – Trick or Treat

Draft (2019) – Trick or Treat

Winter is early this year.
The wet, cold snow blows
Fiercely as we wander from
House to house—
Weather only curbs our urchins.
Their quest for joy fulfilled.
Yet, as the slush streaks sideways in
Strong winds that could lift
An Umbrella and whisk us away,
They laugh and vie for the next piece.
Until we near the house…
Suddenly the promise of warmth,
Hot chocolate, cupcakes and toys
Appeals more.
Trick or treat?!

1 Nov 2019

Poem (draft) – I really thought I wouldn’t say that.

Poem (draft) – I really thought I wouldn’t say that.

I really thought I wouldn’t say that.
The catch phrase of this and that
The common tropes of parenthood-
All those things our parents said
Seemed so far off from who I thought
That I would become.

It’s Generational, I thought.
It wasn’t going to me
Who would reutter those phrases.
I wasn’t just meant to be
That “kind” of parent.

My grandma laughed and ran her hand across my hair.
“It’s okay sweetie, someday you’ll understand.
Someday you’ll recognize the truth.”
That it isn’t just generational.
It’s all generations

We all thought it
And found when our time came
We’re surprised and somewhat,
I find, comforted, because
Yes, you really will find yourself saying “that”.

10 October 2019

The Playground (Draft)

The Playground (Draft)

It’s a strange terrible world
Where the kids on the playground
Warn each other to be wary,
To hesitate
To not talk to you while your child is playing.

These children, still in single digits
Should not be so afraid of people on the playground
Should not worry so much
Or hesitate.

Our children should not need to be wary because my skin is a different color,
Because my hair is wrapped in a turban
Because you just can’t trust anyone anymore.

We’ve created a world where the instincts if children
Have been rendered inadequate
Have been considered less than necessary
Have been set aside because you might be wrong.

You might make a mistake.

I dread the day when my child
Learns that he has to be more careful
That he is privileged because his more colorful heritage is masked
By the Nordic looks he inherited from his father.

That, because we have raised him to be
Compassionate and Kind
Fair and Just
Above all else, based on who someone is…
I fear that he will find a day when
He has to defend that which he accepts unconditionally.

Friendship

Loyalty

Honor above all

Justice.

And yet, I see hope as he plays with others, bright charming smile
And the kids play with him.
And maybe, this world of hesitation and fear can heal.

Maybe, it all really does start on the Playground

6th March, 2019

Poem: Words (draft, 2006/2018)

Poem: Words (draft, 2006/2018)

Words are such a strange thing.
What is in a word that gives it
Such power…

How can one such thing hold
The meaning of a kiss
In its outreaching hand, just a breath
From your lips, and yet,
In the next moment, be once again
A simple word
Filled with innocent effervescence.

We wield words with abandon;
Tossing them about here and there
Giving them freely with little
Acknowledgement or even awareness of the

Consequences,

Repercussions,

Power,

That they can wield.

And as always more words to follow.

Want
Wield
Wait
Watch
Will
Wander
Wonder
Wish

Words.

G. S. Skye, 2006/2018

It was your birthday, today… (Draft)

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

Everything has a beginning

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

 

 

How do you tell a person… (draft)

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.