Without a Trace

A snowflake fell on a blade of grass.
I watched as it disappeared
without a trace.

©Steve Lunsford

Floating Leaf

The floating leaf
brushes the silent firefly
on its way to the ground.

©Steve Lunsford

PARENTHOOD

I had no way of knowing;
I thought the job natural;
My training was idealism;
I knew I could be better.

I will explain my every discipline;
I will never be unfair.
They will understand my thought completely;
There will never be despair.

They were bored with my explanations.
Had no time for my advice.
I had constant guilt of indifference;
A fate doomed to be repeated.

©August 22, 1993O Steve Lunsford

Death of a Snowflake

A snowflake stops on an early spring flower.
The sun warns gently
but it is gone.

©Steve Lunsford

Where do I go

The path took me
through many rough turns;
I never gave up;
One day the path stopped.

©Steve Lunsford

CONTROL LOST

The countdown came and went.
There were indications that all was not well.
Did I close my eyes?
No. I did not believe.

I followed the plan.
I thought everything went well.
I was a fool
to think that it was that easy.

Can there be any solution?
The mechanism is too complex.
Will time be a healer?
The future will tell.

From day to day it changes.
Today it's fine,
tomorrow it's suspect.
How could I have known?

I think there was contamination at some point,
but I don't know what.
I have a feeling,
but I can't describe it.

Insecurity? Perhaps.
Conditions beyond control? Perhaps.
Treatable? Only with self recognition.
Curable? It's up to the child.


©August 29, 1993O Steve Lunsford

Winter Bird

In the winter wind
the lone bird
turns toward the calm.

©Steve Lunsford

Alone

The wildflower stands alone
among friends.
The beauty of each is
insignificant.

©Steve Lunsford

Death

The cold wind blew.
A sudden stillness
created a frozen heartache
that will never thaw.

©Steve Lunsford

Silence

The strength of the forest still glade
renews the sinew
in the creases of my mind.

©Steve Lunsford

Patience

The wanting waterfall
lies in wait for the time
it will be needed.

©Steve Lunsford

Scattered Memories

The wind is full with silence.
It has taken away my memories
and scattered them to the earth.

©Steve Lunsford

Fall Rain

The fall rain
cleans the knapsack of my memories
and ladybugs walk through
the fallen leaves of my life.

Steve Lunsford

Frustration

The little boy found a friend in the puddle of water.
He wanted to pick it up and show it to his Mommy.
No matter how hard he tried,
the water would not consent.
He became frustrated and left.

©Steve Lunsford

ROCK SHOCK

Bells ring, papers pap, television tells.
It all continues
as it always has.
It is much faster now.

Are the kids who like yesterdays rock stars old?
Have they aged before their time?
Am I old because they were my rock stars?
What is going on?

Sound bites, visual bites, rap sounds.
Time in motion
sped to the max.
No pause for thought.

©August 27, 1993O Steve Lunsford

BOREDOM

Clouds of the mind float by at will.
Random shapes collide with the designed.
There is no critique of the shapes.
They are there.
The feats are enormous.
Boredom is a puff of smoke.

©August 22, 1993O Steve Lunsford

MEMORIES

Where do the memories go?
Are they empty frames on a wall?
Are they the wind in the grass?
When I die will my memories linger on?
Would anyone want them?



©August 20, 1993O Steve Lunsford

MY DAD DIED TODAY

My Daddy died today, We knew.
His body was in balance, an undependable equilibrium.
I knew. He knew.
He was 77 years and 2 days.
He didn't want to go.
I didn't want him to go.

The time came, we didn't know.
The ambulance came.
The helicopter came.
The doctors came.

I wanted to let him go.
That was not an option.
He went to surgery.
We waited.
He came out.
Mom wiped a tear from his eye.
He never spoke again.

©3/30/1994 Steve Lunsford

No Heed Taken

The amorphous mass rambled down the hillside.
I wanted to help as it approached.
As I intervened, it was apparent that
I could provide no direction.
I watched from a distance
as everything that I had lived for
flowed at its own pace.

©Steve Lunsford

Old Tree

The old tree struggles in the wind
as the birds warm his branches.
The dust is all that is left.

©Steve Lunsford

PARENTS

The sun rises.
The morning is calm.
Midday brings thunderstorms.
The storms are strong.

Control is lost.
We are at the mercy.
Our cries are lost in the wind.
Our actions are lost in the dust.

Is the foundation solid?
Can it be repaired now?

We had the chance; the blocks are laid.
We can only wait until the storm is gone.
How long will it be?

As long as it takes we will be there.
We talk but we forgive.
Extinction is our destiny.

©June 26, 1993O Steve Lunsford

TRUTH

I had the chance.
The chance is gone.
Gone for now but
not for always.

When I return
I hope I have learned.
But do we learn?
Are our choices ever right?

Do we have choices?

Maybe. But we can't make
our choices looking back.

But looking forward does not
show the truth.
The truth is between
now and then.
To catch a glimpse of it
is to stop.

Am I ready to stop?

©June 26, 1993O Steve Lunsford

I CAN FLY

I can fly
but nobody knows.
The trees look different.
So am I, when I fly.

I haven't flown much lately.
The desire is there.
I use to fly quite often
and it was remarkable.

It was easy.

It was exciting.
It was exhilarating.

To look from aloft;
It’s a stately set.
The scene is restrained.
The clouds stretch for cover.

If we all could fly
I'm sure it would change.
The world would look different
as we passed overhead.

I wish I could fly again.
Will the time come?
Maybe.
It's a matter of concentration.
Do I still have it?

If I want.

©August 12, 1993O Steve Lunsford

I Thought I Heard a Memory

I thought I heard a memory.
It whisk by very fast.
I thought that they were out there, but
I knew not if they last.

My Dad had many memories.
I wonder where they are?.
He tried to tell me some of them
and I was just too far.

I now long for those words of his
I'll never hear again.
I long for all those silent times
that then seemed very thin.

He's gone now and his memories are
a space upon the wall.
Time has spread him all about;
a fate that waits us all.

The memories that my Dad had
Are lost to me for good;
I have my own to scatter
And call them when I would.


©4/20/1994 Steve Lunsford

Green is Good

(for the rain forest)

Green is good
Rain is wet
Fire is here
Green is black
Smoke is left
Hot will come
Rain will stop
Ice will melt
Wet will rise
I will die
Wet will fall
Green will come
Green is good

©8/28/94 Steve Lunsford

Molecules

I am made of molecules and savor,
the recipe I don't know.
When I die the molecules will return;
The savor is free to flow.

My memories will be lost.
Just scattered to the wind.
My molecules have been trained by me
and will be used again.

I often wonder who has used
the molecules that I have.
Was it Einstein, Washington, Lincoln or
someone just as brave?

Was it Hitler, Khan or Jesse James?
Those guys they had some too.

I suppose that I will never know
but I would like to say:

The qualities that I find important
in the molecules that I leave;
Will in time be found by someone
who will recognize them as me.

Icicle

The flow cannot escape and
is captured before the fall.
The sterile silence watches
the parts collect
to a clear tapered winter art.

©Steve Lunsford

Regrets

I will never
be part of a winning sectional basketball team;
I will never
be a millionaire;
I will never
be president;
I will never
bend over and lay my hands flat on the floor;
I will never
have my kids wrap their hands around my finger again;
I will never
be able to hug my Dad again.


©Sunday, January 29, 1995 Steve Lunsford

My Spot is Gone

The dozer came today.
I watched as it consumed my favorite spot.
I sat there for an hour...It didn't take long.
I could hear the mumbling
of unconcerned workers in the background.
They had been through this many times before.

The old gravel roads and the young saplings;
the mushroom hollers and the old pickup truck;
the plate of spilled beans...
all the things that we shared gave way to time.
I knew it would happen.
It hurt to watch, but I am glad I was there.

I had many good times at that old spot.
That spot guided me for over 50 years.
Not steering but just being there as a
mountain peak helps a hiker keep his bearings.

I went to that old spot many times.
It is hard to explain. I just sat there.
We knew each other.
The old spot had many problems these past few years,
but the comfort that was provided to me is forever.

©4/27/94 Steve Lunsford

Freedom

Soil supplies the substance.
The wind provides power.
The sun warms my soul and
the clouds drop me nourishment.
I respond with miracles.

I am life. I am freedom.
I can satisfy your curiosity
with glorious memories or
breathtaking sensations of
things that yet can't be created.

The price is high. I must have your devotion.
You must provide me with the fire.
It is your inspiration that turns the blade.
Our symbiosis is sensual.

©Tuesday, September 20, 1994 Steve Lunsford

Attitude

The old did not exist
when time was young.
A skip of the rock across the water
has caused me to change.

The feelings I have are different.
My body is growing weary and
I look out from this repository
with a view that is shaped by circumstance.

The future used to be my goal.
It is now my destiny.
I am the future.


©Tuesday, October 4, 1994 Steve Lunsford

SITTING UNDER A TREE

Sitting under a tree
It's an easy life
The leaves rattling overhead;
The swallows streaking through the sky.

It was
a time of imagination;
a time of thought;
a time of savor;
a time to look forward
to all that would be my future.

The old pits are full of water
and the wildlife is abundant.
The quiet is interrupted only by
the birds and the leaves.

Many think to be alone is to be lazy.
To sit under a tree and watch the birds
is to be unproductive.
You must labor with the hands.
Work is not accomplished otherwise.

Action without thought is foolish.
The result of spontaneity may be chaos.

©June 20, 1993O Steve Lunsford

Pain

I am here. I have been with you always.
I am your companion, your buddy, your confidant.

You will pay attention to me.
You will choose your activities according to my whims.
You will tell yourself that you can conquer me but,
you can't.

Remember how you used to ignore me?
Remember how much difficulty I used to have
getting your attention?

We will be much closer now.





©Tuesday, January 17, 1995 Steve Lunsford

I Watched my Daddy Die

I sat there by the side of the bed.
The staff continued with their work,
looking over occasionally to see if he was gone.
It was very hard for him to breath.
He made very short breaths...almost gasps.
He struggled for each breath.

Many pictures flickered by in that short time.
(Although it didn't seem short at the time)
All the things you wanted to say and didn't.
All the things you did that caused pain.

I told the doctor "no life saving measures."
I know I was right.
He should have gone a couple of months before.
Methodist had to be paid.
They kept him going until he could go no more.
They then turned him out to die.
Not in a canoe or on an ice flow
but to a convalescence home.
No thought to dignity. He lasted one day.
Modern medicine is wonderful.




©Tuesday, January 17, 1995 Steve Lunsford

Terror is a tactic

Terror is a tactic
Like bombing from the sky
Like hiding in a forest tree
And shooting as a spy.

The people using terror
I do not understand
They cause such terrible tragedies
But in their mind its grand.

They kill and maim our children
They cause our mind to change
They cause us to be paranoid
Our lives they rearrange

I'm sorry that they hurt so much
I don't know what to do
I’d like to think it over soon
I doubt it. So do you.

Why can't we just be tolerant
Why can't we just let live.
Are we so narrow minded
Can’t we just learn to give?

I will not see the end of this
But it will surely come
Its happened many times before
Its not the only one.

When man controls his anger
When man controls his greed
When true compassion rules the world
There'll be no need to bleed.

©August 4, 2004 Steve Lunsford

OLD AGE

I never gave it much thought.
but time watched me.
It never seemed important,
but time watched me.
Many things have become
more difficult to do.
I watch time.



©June 20, 1993O Steve Lunsford

I Heard a Memory Crying

I heard a memory crying
from far across the room.
I did not know the meaning
of its strange foreboding tune.

A lament for past enjoyments.
For times of family fun.
For times of better purpose.
For times now all undone.

This unfamiliar yearning
of times I once did know.
Brought curiosity turning
in the conciliation of my soul.

I straightened up and listened
to that I could not hear.
I listened with emotion
I listened with some fleer.

The ephemeral life that's leading
to places unknown now.
Will bring on many memories
For those who do allow.

Thoughts of things once cherished
of struggles bitterly fought.
Remembrances of old acquaintances
Tears from battles now quite lost.

A crying memory harkens
of restless thoughts revived.
Seek out those recollections.
The ones that have survived.


©3/14/2005 Steve Lunsford

HE'S MY DAD

I watch my Dad.
He was a remarkable man.
He put me through school, you know.
He made me.

We drove the old red truck to the dump.
It was a glorious time.
I sat on his lap to steer.
I couldn't reach the pedals.

We had our differences.
I finally resolved
that I either loved him or
I should leave.
It was easier after.

He has watched me grow.
I have watched him grow.
He now hurts.
I now hurt for him.

He was a strong sort, but
a slip of a man compared to me.
"Where did my size come from?",
is what I heard.

It is difficult for me to watch
as he grows weaker each day.
He's my Dad!
How can he do this to me?

I use to live for tomorrow.
Was it wrong?
I wish I could live for yesterday.
for my Dad.

©June 20, 1993O Steve Lunsford

50

I am 50.
It was a hard birth.
I didn't realize it until it was over.

No other age has mattered.
A birthday is just another day.
This one was different.

As I look back
I can see the path.
It is littered with crumpled paper.

I never looked back before.
Why is it important now?
The grasp of time is strong.

The grasp of time is subtle.
Eyes, joints, weight, mind.
The reality is sudden.

©August 8, 1993O Steve Lunsford
~52 A

My Dog

My dog always looks at me
As if she is saying,
“just tell me what to do and I will do it.”

When I water the flowers,
She watches intently
just trying to figure out
what it is I am doing.

If I only had a hand,
I could carry that sprinkler,
she is thinking.

If I get up from my chair
she is right there
leading the way,
making sure everything is safe
for me to continue on.

When I leave for work
she watches
as I head toward the door.
“You know I could be of great value,”
she says as she looks up at me
on my way out.

When I mow the yard
she is by the window
watching and saying,
“I think I could operate that mower
if you would just give me a chance.”

When I go to bed
she is there leading the way.
It is her job to clean the toothpaste
from my face.

When she is finished,
she is at my side
till morning.

©6/2/2005 Steve Lunsford

WE CAN SEARCH FOREVER

As I walked the path along the edge of the woods
A leaf fell from a nearby tree.
I leaned over to pick up the leaf.
The light reflecting from the leaf was some of the most beautiful colors I have ever seen.
The shape was balanced beyond belief.
I put this leaf in a special place and admired it often.

As I walked on the sidewalk going to the grocery store
A leaf fell from a nearby tree.
I leaned over to pick up the leaf.
The light reflecting from the leaf was some of the most beautiful colors I have ever seen.
The shape was balanced beyond belief.
I put this leaf in a special place and admired it often.

As I walked in a park near the edge of the city...


©3/18/04 Steve Lunsford

A SCARY NIGHT

I walked to the window
And looked through the pane
I saw a man watching
At the end of the lane.

He stood there not moving
With wind blown long hair
The light from the moon
Sort of gave me a scare.

My cat was here with me
And I felt secure
When a knock on the door
Made my cat quite a blur.

My cat, Alowishious, took off for the chair
I looked out the window
And the man was not there.

And now my heart started
To beat like a drum.
My feet were like anchors
As I tried to run.

I reached for a hammer
I wanted to cry.
I reached for a phonebook
I wished I could fly.

Again the knock came
My feet would not move.
My hands were all sweaty
Please give me a shove!

Time stopped for my living
The knock came again.
I looked at the door
Should I let the man in?

I took a deep breath,
and now in control,
I walked to the hallway
Like a man on patrol.

My hand touched the doorknob
I turned it quite slow.
The latch made a noise
and the wind it did blow.

The door suddenly opened!
But no one was there.
I looked at the darkness
It was to despair.

There was no one waiting
Not a soul was in sight.
The blackness was deafening
I now had a plight.

I closed the door tightly
and made sure it locked.
I walked through the house
With my eyes and ears cocked.

I looked out the window
The moon was now gone
The wind was still blowing
And there on the lawn,

I thought I saw something
Behind the big tree.
Again I gasped loudly
I wanted to flee.

And now my eyes tricked me
What's not there I saw
Things moved in the bushes
Things moved on the wall.

The time went by slowly
But light finally came
I opened the door
And walked down to the lane.

Nothing was there
To be seen by my eye
So I turned myself 'round
and went back but nearby

I saw a bright flash
In the grass near the door.
I bent down to get it
And to my great horror

I found a man's finger
With a ring still attached
I turned on my heels and
And I ran till I snatched
Up my kitten and got out of there.

We went into town
But told not a soul.
Of our frightening encounter
Of our losing control.

We went to a friend's home
He was quite good to see.
He greeted us with friendship
And we sat down for tea.

We stayed at his house
For as long as we could
We told him the story
And he understood

It's good to have friends
For it may come to be
That you need a safe haven
Like Alowishious and me.



©3/17/2004 Steve Lunsford

Number 1412

I turned and turned both day and night.
The path not clear but the way was bright.
This way; that way; and now a dead end
History speaks softly but I do not bend.

I go my own way. That's all I can do.
I don't want to listen to those who have been through.
They might not have been where I want to be
How will I know if I can't be me.

My judgment is new so I want to believe.
My judgment is mine it's hard to conceive
that anyone else could guide me beyond
The steps I must take to my journey.


©9/5/2002 Steve Lunsford