April 27 - Comfort Food

Comfort Food

Sometimes you just need
Food that tastes like home,
Flavors you share with someone else,
Smells that make you smile.

I used to think that
What you ate was not important.
I was wrong about that.
The smells sneak up on you.

Smells that take you back to places,
You’d forgot you’d left behind;
A joy that all of us,
In the family share it.

© by Tom King

April 26 - An Old Man Without a Dog

An Old Man Without a Dog

An old man without a dog

Walks down the hill toward home,

Just past the place along the road

Where he left the dog behind.

In the same way he left

Other companions,

A brother, a father, a son

A love already home waiting.

The ground gently falls away,

Beneath his feet, sloping down

Toward his journey’s end.

Without thought, he slows his pace.

Meandering now, his senses alive,

He drinks the nuances of smell,

Of light and color and movement,

Of leaves rustling, of birds chattering.

Life is precious down near the end,

Now that he finally sees where he is going.

His feet linger not wanting

To miss anything worth tasting.

He wanders steadily toward home,

Where he knows a comfort waits;

Waits with arms outstretched,

Listening for his footsteps.

© 2016 by Tom King

April 25 - I Sing Because

 








I Sing Because
I sing because I cannot be silent
When the world is hurting.
I shout because some things
Simply must be heard.
I weep because some things
Are worth weeping for.
I tell stories because we need them
to make sense of our lives.

I ask because unless someone asks
We'll never get an answer.
I write for those who need to read it
All in black and white in order to believe.
I comfort because a sympathetic hand
Makes it so we do not feel alone.
I sleep in peace because I know,
I have done all I can......today.

© 2016 by Tom King

April 24 - Two Weeks From Everywhere

The town where I grew up was small. How small?

I could walk the town all the way across and back

In the space of an idyllic sunny afternoon

Along some random sun-dappled, leafy track.

They were all like that, the roads and streets and trails,
Tucked among the gnarled oaks and chinaberry trees;

Drenched with pungent crape myrtle perfume,

And the sounds of dogs and kids and humming bees.

It was a town that taught you patience patiently.

If you needed something not on hand, they'd get it,

But you could count on waiting 14 days in any case.

Two weeks, a fortnight you could safely bet it

No matter what it was; no matter how large or small

Time warped itself always into equal spaces.

You learned to live with it or else you moved,

Somewhere rushed, more nervous, wired to faster paces.  

I carry some of that little town with me now,

Especially as I grow old, my powers wane, and my career peaks.

And when some nervous youngster demands to know how long?
My answer now's always the same – about two weeks!

© 2016 by Tom King

April 23 - You Built This

With boards and nails,
With bricks and mortar
You build the edifice,
That is the life you live in;
A steady stream
Of mights and maybes,
Yes and no and compromise
Choices conspiring together to bring you
To the place where you are now.
I am, you are
What we have chosen,
But also what He has made
If we have called out
In desperation as our handiwork crumbled.

We pick the foundations
We pick the materials
We choose the architect
Ours now to build or break,
But His if we'll have it
His if we'll allow Him,
The gentle corrections that keep
The construction on course
Till at the end it is you we know
It is you o' Lord
It is you who have done it.

© 2016 by Tom King

April 22 - The Return

The Return

Your eyes are open, but they do not see.

Your ears catch the breeze, but they do not hear.

Your heart beats, your lungs fill with air,

But your mind thinks of nothing but itself.

Your eyes brighten at the vain display of princes.

Your ears tingle at the sound of empty promises.

Your hearts beat faster, you pant with excitement.

Your mind is filled with only that which satisfies its vanity.

See the signs that He is coming.

Hear the warning that time is short.

Do these things that your heart may turn to Him;

That you may breathe the air of heaven;

That you may yearn in your inmost self for His coming.

© 2016 by Tom King

April 21 - Mouths Wide Open

Mouths Wide Open

by Tom King

Mama bird cussed me out today

I got too near her hungry brood.

Her babes have hatched she didn't say

I knew it by her attitude.

She doesn't mind so much when I

Go out to water the flowers and plants.

She calmly watches me pass by

With my dripping plastic watering cans.

I, beside the planter, left her a bit of seed,

But now the eggs have hatched that she has lain;

The nest is filled with hungry mouths to feed.

And she'll no longer tolerate my artificial rain.

She sits, a bit of seed held in her beak

And chitters angrily at me - no song

From a nearby branch she'll chirp and squeak,

At me till I consent to move along.

Five open mouths wait for their mama there

Packed cheek to cheek they cheep and call,

Open-mouthed, demanding mama's instant care.

And I remember what it was when ours were small. 

   

It's seems we moms and dads were always shoving

Food or drink down open mouths; taking them to pee

They demanded time, energy, and unconditional loving.

And we were as tired as mama bird must be.

Were we ever such tiny hungry mouths to feed?

All day did our poor mamas stumble back and forth,

Till she had tended to her childrens' never-ending need,

 And gave and gave again for all that she was worth.

I left more seed this blustery afternoon so she,

Would not have to fly so far to feed her bunch.

And then I called my mother just to see

If maybe she would let me take her out to lunch.

© 2016 by Tom King