Turkey Hunting

I read, “I don’t hunt turkeys because I 

want to but because I have to.” 

I thought of what was later said,

the love of having to do what you 

can’t do otherwise.  And how all things

that surround that “have to” are lovable

too.  Regardless what they are; if they 

are attached, they demand the same 

care and consideration as the primary urge

that has chosen you.  Not a bad way 

to live.  I believe one of those Greek 

philosophers called it following “your

daemon.” That which joins the human

and divine and guides your life.

Not a popular idea today that there 

may be something in us that knows 

and cares more about us than we do --

the best thing to do to follow where

we’re lead.  You could say, “Just 

a crazy ass turkey hunter!”  But 

you can’t say you’re not hunting 

for something in this life; it’d be 

nice to have a “have to” leading 

you in your way.

-Byron Hoot

hootnhowlpoetry.com 

In That Moment

In That Moment. . . 

. . . the two deer

were in the tall 

grass on the side

of the road.

I didn’t see them

until I was on them.

The beauty of the scene

and the fear slowed me.

I watched to see

which way they would go.

They took a step.

I drove on thinking 

of beauty, fear 

and the danger

hootnhowlpoetry.com.  

Present For a Moment

The morning is like a Monet painting.  The fog

has blurred the edges of trees and roads,

the colors of grass and trees and sky.

The leaves are shrinking as well and the sun

shines through those new and growing gaps, 

those leaves who could not wait for the first

frost of fall falling like scouts bringing news

of what’s ahead.  And the sacred silence of Sunday

morning is everywhere and will burn off like the fog

in a while leaving only memory and the sense

I may have missed something even as I was 

taking the morning in.  And somehow that sense

creates a longing for what I see and feel to be

utterly seen and felt, known, caught in that phrase, 

“In the fullness of time.”  Those moments all have

and the wonder that fills that time, the desire 

its passing creates.  The way the heart and soul

and mind are never the same afterward, the impossibility

to create a memory like this morning

as it passes by in that sense that forever

has just found a way to be present for a moment.

-Byron Hoot

http://hootnhowlpoetry.com/

MY LIFE

MY LIFE

My life is but a million miles

Of deserts etched with grief

Scarred by sighs

Illumined by the scorching sun

Distant and indifferent stars

Etching in the arid ground

Mendacity and lies

Scoured by times mocking gales

With no shelter, succour or relief

Desire's scorching sands

Blister and char the feet

Of this remorseful reprobate

A purblind foolish pilgrim

Staggering besotted, beset and bestial

Through existences's daily monotony

With endless inconsequential rituals

Struggling against hunger, sloth, insomnia,

A sour stomach or an achy tooth

Regret, ennui,and grief

Until I am rendered

To my essence

Stinking offal, carrion meat

Marching to lust's monotonous

Discordant threnody and beat

A lonely ghost I utter and wail

Tattered truths no one will hear

Screeds only I will see

On paper scraps on which I scribble

For no purpose to no avail

Wrestling with futility

Trying to encapsulate and capture

All my struggles, sorrow, and travail

Until I am erased, effaced and lost

Neither remembered nor forgotten

In the oblivion of eternity

-Michael Murray

Prove Me Right

You'd prove me right

Every time I was wrong

I'd be loosing sight

And the fight just went on

You lit my light

Then continue to move on

The pain it bites

But life it goes on

Lonley nights

But it's long gone

Being so right

But feeling so wrong

Right all along

But man ...I wished you proved me wrong

Before I left she was already gone

it might be wrong

That I feel her in every song

It was her all along

Now I'm lost in the wrong

But I guess I have been all along

-Robert McLeod

05/05/22

THE GREATEST MAN IN THE WORLD

I think of what Jesus has taught,

and stand awestruck before this man.

I find Him that He is the best

of all who've walked under the sun.

I put aside that He is God

and write about His life on earth.

He's taught man love and to support

the little ones, not those of wealth.

He had great ruth on that female

whom none dared her soul to elate.

He sympathized despite the risk

and saved her from her horrid fate.

Who can endure the insults that

He suffered but He could forgive.

We can't withstand a little grudge

till we retort what we receive.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

"Boondocks Land"

In the end, "the Boondocks" did win,

though we all had our bearings on compass until then.

Paths drawn on maps, over highways

and bridges,

through the valleys

of mountain ridges.

But the map got a crack, in the crease,

from the folding and folding and folding again.

It happened from paths untrodden.

It happened from traces untraced.

It happened from

putting the map in your pocket,

and bending it opened again.

Maps do not belong in pockets.

They belong in hands.

Plans do not remain on hold,

they're to be placed

upon the land of Man.

So, the highway that we traced in pen

split open, in the middle,

from the rip in the bend,

like the split of a vein.

And as a result,

there's no feasible way

to travel/traverse

from point B

to point A.

The rift led us (both) to the Boondock Land.

-clw

5-21-11

C. Ward