IN THE HALLWAY

IN THE HALLWAY 

In the hallway ghosts and spunky spirits gossip on the state of my health. 

They think I do not know this and that they operate in stealth.

When in fact a noisy silence permeates the air,                   

Friendly formless figures float silent on the stair

Meanwhile I notice a spider spinning his web upon my door,

An artisan who knows his craft while prancing on my floor. 

I think to loudly protest but endorse his enterprise.

I look upon this spider with understanding eyes.    

He teases and entices me with his accuracy and speed.

Chilling me and thrilling me with an early Halloween.

His chutzpah and tenaciousness are marvels to be seen.                                                                                                                                                                    

In the hallway come the noiseless footfalls of kinfolk who have passed,

From this world to another realm into which my fortunes cast.

I want to join them in the foyer but I sense it's not my time,

But their presence soothes and comforts me, so gentle and benign.

Meanwhile the kindly spider is almost finished with his weaving,

My heart at last seems reconciled with the sweet release of leaving.

My fortunes flow snd ebb but I'm not yet trapped in the spider's web.

I still must have some business here, so for now I try to stall,

Those knowing kindly spirits that await me in the hall.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

SPIRITS EVERYWHERE

SPIRITS EVERYWHERE

Spirits, they are everywhere,

On the landing, on the stair,

In the bedroom, in the bath,

In the classroom learning math.

Spirits confound you, as they surround you,

In every drunk in every bar,

Blasting music in your car.

On radio and on tv,

But on a different frequency.

Spirits follow as you walk,

Spirits listen when you talk,

Spirits hover. and spirits look,

Even follow you on Facebook.

Spirits, they are everywhere, in a meditative trance 

In every glimpse and glance, in every funky dance.

Spirits scale your every wall, always at your beck and call.

Spirits like to rack your brain, when your life is circling the drain.

At the seaside, in the foam, they come when you are most alone,

Noiselessly they follow you all the way home.

Spirits are everywhere, real and implied,

Wise counselors and lifetime guides,

They know when to hold and when to let go,

Spirits glide through rain and snow,

Always fierce, they walk the wire,

Spirits dance through heat and fire.

When you are down and need them most,

They snuggle up around you close.

Spirits, they are everywhere, their intuition deep

Spirits watch over you as you sleep.

They never doze, they never tire,

They know firsthand your heart's desire,

Call it chance or call it fate, but there's a reason and a rhyme,

And spirits follow right on time,

Spirits they are everywhere,

Floating on the sacred air.

No need to question how or why,

Just feel them as you fly.

 -Bruce Potts

Copyright 2022

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

DARTS AT VALENTINES

DARTS AT VALENTINES

Just a little wisdom, to pass along your way,

Do not throw darts at valentines, the symbol or the day,

For valentines are tender, and likely to surrender,

Without the heated fight you were hoping to engender. 

Don't go popping every heart shaped balloon,

Or the one time love that's spoken of in each romantic tune,

Don't be bowing out of the love scented parade,

Don't think romance a withered dance,

Save your ridicule and your shade,

That comes so ready made,

For there's a lot of nonsense spoken about love,

Love it comes in many forms, 

Could be the email from a treasured friend,

The pot of gold at rainbow's end,

The puppy warm, the winter storm, delight in a snowball fight,

The sledder children wearing mittens,

The basketful of newborn kittens.

The lover and his midnight kiss,

Love it can be all of this.

So just be careful in your time,

To not throw darts at valentines.

For valentines are tender and likely to surrender,

To the heat of your hatred and its judgment rendered.

Do not wish in vain for some trophy lover dear,

To place upon your bedroom shelf,

First check the mirror, love yourself,

The valentines will surround you,

In the faces of companions, the memory of old friends,

Those both here and lost to the ages,

Gone to heaven to commune with the sages,

Lifted out of everyday time.

All of these are your reprieve,

Remember them in meditation, perhaps you'll have a visitation,

It's possible if you just believe,

That all of these, like sparkling wine.

Are miracles and valentines.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2022

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED