"On Wings in Flames" - by Brad Michael Moore
As another year’s experience
Comes to pass.
I take time to pause - reflect.
I can see it all clearly...
Or, so it would seem -
Reality - almost the same,
As I previously recollected.
Still, how easily I allow myself to stray…
From my work - I have learned where I must go.
Even when I don’t believe
A passion can be retrieved-
I still often reach for it,
Knowing I might be flying-
On a wing in flames...
So goes this constant process,
Where I must remind myself,
[from time to time]
I can keep a finger
on my future.
© 2007 BMM
“Fallen Stranger” - by Brad Michael Moore
Quietly, he listened as dry leaves rustled over the tile rooftop, and against splintered
Overwhelmed by thirst,
He now fears the wind's ever-growing voraciousness.
Worried, bleeding, he weakens, and envisions that power of sirens
searching for cracks and crevasses - even keyholes,
To reach to him, and -
Deplete him even of his tears.
fin - 20/11/99
'Walking Before Bambi' [Untitled] © 1983 Beyrl Striewski
“A Poem In Every Word” – by Brad Michael Moore
I stood my ground, I lost my frown, I closed my eyes to hear…
A promise comes - just once a’while that carries 'way my fear.
Now I question what I hear, like waters pushed by winds –
Like whispers through unfallen leaves, or rising cream unchurned…
My mind is made up - my time has turned out,
My heart’s open to reveal -
There’s a song here - it sings everywhere -
It is a poem in every word…
Now I love, and life is clear - it promises that way,
Rest my soul - a truth be told - tomorrow’s just as near.
Humm dadumm, rumahum dadumm - to carry to & fro is only sway.
Humm dadumm, rumahum dadumm - tarry where you are & you stay.
Here I am - naked as I came - like dust becomes seashells.
Time - it carries my soul along, forward, backwards, & now.
Answers contrast to starlight - like footprints in the sand -
Telling me from where I come, as well as - where I am…
"Texas Landscape # 15" © 1970 BMM
"Freedom's Fare" / © 1967 by Brad Michael Moore
Oh, what a night to be -
This night of nights, I wish were me.
The moon shines iridescent, so I may see,
Soft blowing winds cradle my newborn leaves.
I am old & tried - yet still, I am King
Of this large green pasture I stand within.
But no one notices me, nothing seems to care...
How I wish I were tonight's wind - with its freedom's fare!
What a dream to perceive - to truly be free!
To seek out and find - all sights & sounds around.
To flow over hills, and whirl through towns...
Just to be free - no roots anchoring me,
To be what I give, no one truly sees.
Oh, what a night to be,
This night of nights, I wish were me.
"Imagining" © 2013 BMM
"So Long" - By Brad Michael Moore
So long, my heart's desire,
Fallen so many times –
Even were the sun tracing twice brightly as it trails,
So far, and too soon, it remnants are gone...
So long, thoughts betraying life’s dreams,
Bouncing through narrowing days –
Whose tasks remain unseen?
Such hopes sway - so many, too soon, sail away...
So long, temporal songs, echoing my soul,
Rhythms & rhymes melting into rainbow tones –
Tones that Nightingales may borrow,
Till glowingly comes - another dawn.
"YoDome" © 1980 BMM
"The Wind" - By Brad Michael Moore
It may be poetic or even romantic to think of myself as a leaf blown here by a wind.
But every leaf finds it's resting place - it's little patch - where it knows it may never be
moved from again.
There, it follows its course in nature to be reincarnated into another realm.
Now, here in this staying place I’ve found, I listen to where the wind blows,
and stand out in a path - to face its meaning in my life.
How well it carries the many aspects of my existence.
Always seeking without taking rest.
Always remaining a metaphor to thoughts I place near my bedside.
The wind carries me along with its roam.
It carries me with its curiosity.
It carries me with its forever seeking - its sleeplessness, and its sometimes carelessness.
I too have traveled and taken satisfaction from my freedom.
Though never fully grasping this swirling natural force, I chase it.
I too am sometimes careless.
I reach for the wind’s coattails to steal me along in its adventures.
The wind sings through those elements it moves along its fluid path -
through gardened corridors,
ancient canyons, and human-made edifices.
I imagine its penetration of the smallest crevasses,
it’s travailing with heaven’s rain, ice and snow —
it’s white-capping the waters that surround this island to which I’m bound.
The wind ever changes the face of all things it meets.
It carves great arches in the sandstone of Utah.
It turns 12 inches of snow into a 20-foot drift.
It plants seeds it carries from afar to bring new life to a barren spot -
as it pilfers precious topsoil from crop fields poorly managed nearby.
The wind is a music maker, whether through quaking the leaves of Aspens -
over a Colorado mountainside, or Cottonwoods across the South –
or pushing waves upon a rocky beach in Cape Cod,
or caressing chimes dangling on the corner of someone’s front porch with a view.
The wind is a thief who captures balloons lost from the grasps of children at carnivals
— children who watch their colored gifts disappear into big blue and wonder -
how far their orbs may rise?
The wind moves moisture from oceans to heartlands,
and propels sailing vessels with its might.
In its greatest furry, it can carry birds from one continent to another,
or bury a toothpick - into the cambium of an oak tree.
The wind moves windmills that grind harvest grains,
or raises water from deep underground.
It generates electricity, and waves the flags of our allegiances.
The wind guides the soaring of eagles and butterflies,
and all other voyagers of the sky...
The wind moves our lives as it moves our imagination.
Any elements it carries along - are only being assisted -
in moving farther down their destiny’s trail.
While we’re always thinking of ways to harness the wind’s energy —
we can never - capture its spirit,
nor ride the true reins of its freedom...
When it’s too difficult to express myself anymore,
I just listen to what the wind has to say.
"Midnight Sun / Artic Circle / Norway" © 1982 BMM
Frost on fallen leaves, glistens beneath bare trees,
as break of dawn offers adieu - painting a blue sky anew.
Passing from place to place, revolving wind - full of grace.
Remembering not to repeat - a life once parsed, and now complete.
Fallen into this ground, a sleeping soul hears not a sound…
Even as water seeps, between crevasses up from the deep.
And from that spring to river run –
A fullness of time, ebb, and flow,
A winding path, gains stature unto its end,
Finally, a discovered ocean, from salt beginning again.
No spoken words can bless so beautifully as ancient trees.
No memory was made to outlast Nature’s force of reprise.
I care not for when I’m gone, if my works shall tarry on -
For when my day is due - the rest of what I am relived of -
Now, it is left to you!
And then you shall burden and light along, until your time has come and gone…
Afterwards, like me, and you too, our dust will turn into something with glue.
Cycles go, and rotations respin, time after time, and then time again…
Brad Michael Moore 11/25/2006
"Buns - One By Two" © 1984 BMM
"Contact" - By Brad Michael Moore