Peter slowly drew out of the wood
The figure he sensed existed within
He had seen it as soon as he handled the block
As soon as he listened to the drive of the song
On the boom box on the shelf
Behind wise Mr. Chelmsford down at his market
A blues-inspired version of The American Anthem
Not Francis Scott Key
But Woody Guthrie
Being performed by a backwater Memphis house band
Slow and steady rather than fast and upbeat
Closer to the experience of people of color
More irony injected in a way that the author
Would have loved
His masterpiece being originally penned
As much in protest as in honor
Which to him meant it was truly reflective
Of the Great American Character
Peter sensed all this when he touched the wood
After coming home from Mr. Chelmford's
Couldn't be stopped as he reached for his tools
Started carving away shards and splinters
To reveal to recognize to liberate
The eagle living within
To uncage
The head and shoulders
The personality
The pride the valour the verve
The uncompromising adherence to standards
That was just waiting to be born
Hatched from the rectangle of Christ's wood
Its head cocked slightly to the left
As if listening trying to understand
Teaching a lesson scolding
Cajoling the young to join the flock
The army of the artisans of the talon
The flame of vision
Global in breadth
As if seen from the mountaintop.
Peter slowly drew out of the wood
The figure he sensed existed within
He had seen it as soon as he handled the block
As soon as he listened to the drive of the song
On the boom box on the shelf
Behind wise Mr. Chelmsford down at his market
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
April 4, 2012
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Andrew
The church bell tolled four o'clock
And already Andrew had been out
On the porch overlooking Lake Washington
For hous and hours
Sitting listening hearing
Pouring his heart out to himself without really noticing
The number of hours nor the number of explanations
Trying to peel away the doubts the regrets
Of what had happened just because it happened
And not because of his own weakness
And not because of their contrasts and similarities
Which helped them remain together at times
And at other times drove them irrevocably apart
Until of course that day three months ago
When forever this dynamic would become frozen in time
Drawn by circumstance
A great opportunity a job a career
But living literally thousands of miles away
Drawn back to the town of their natural origin
Drawn back but not to be with him
Drawn back but to be away from him
And leaving him in a limbo space and time
Where he couldn't go home if he were to want to
And yet he knew eventually he could also not stay here
Its memories of their hopes together now dashed
Forever haunting the very look of the place
He was left on quiet Sunday afternoons like this one
When the church bells toll four o'clock
Already Andrew had been out
On the porch overlooking Lake Washington
For hours and hours
Sitting listening hearing
Pouring his heart our to himself without really noticing
The number of hours nor the number of explanations
Trying to peel away the doubts the regrets
Of what had happened just because it had happened
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
April 4, 2012
And already Andrew had been out
On the porch overlooking Lake Washington
For hous and hours
Sitting listening hearing
Pouring his heart out to himself without really noticing
The number of hours nor the number of explanations
Trying to peel away the doubts the regrets
Of what had happened just because it happened
And not because of his own weakness
And not because of their contrasts and similarities
Which helped them remain together at times
And at other times drove them irrevocably apart
Until of course that day three months ago
When forever this dynamic would become frozen in time
Drawn by circumstance
A great opportunity a job a career
But living literally thousands of miles away
Drawn back to the town of their natural origin
Drawn back but not to be with him
Drawn back but to be away from him
And leaving him in a limbo space and time
Where he couldn't go home if he were to want to
And yet he knew eventually he could also not stay here
Its memories of their hopes together now dashed
Forever haunting the very look of the place
He was left on quiet Sunday afternoons like this one
When the church bells toll four o'clock
Already Andrew had been out
On the porch overlooking Lake Washington
For hours and hours
Sitting listening hearing
Pouring his heart our to himself without really noticing
The number of hours nor the number of explanations
Trying to peel away the doubts the regrets
Of what had happened just because it had happened
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
April 4, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Myrtle
Myrtle stood proudly
Exhibiting her personal collection
Of a variety of sub-speacies
Of the Fuchsia plants
That made up nearly a third
Of the Annual Puget Sound's Fuchsia Guild's
Display and tea tasting Sunday
It had been her passion 30 years ago
The colorful plant whose distinguishing characteristic
Are the blossoms generally fuchsia in color
That tended to look in shape
Like those tiny Christmas Tree lighting faerie bulbs
Not the large gawky kind but the tiny kind
That hung as they did at the end of droopy stems
Not unlike the droop of a willow tree
The Fuchsia plants blossom tended to be like a firework's blossom
Just seconds after high above the crowd
The explosion sends shards of colored light
Off in a sphere shape at nearly uniform distance
Creating a round that lasts for seconds
And then disappears into the memory only
What Myrtle loved best about these plants
Was that the beauty that lasted just seconds in the fireworks
Was captured for days in the plants
Really for as long as they blossom
And on this day Myrtle stood proudly
Exhibiting her personal collection
Of a variety of sub-species
Of the Fuchsia plant
That made up nearly a third
Of the Annual Puget Sound's Fuchsia Guild's
Annual display and tea tasting Sunday
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
March 28, 2012
Exhibiting her personal collection
Of a variety of sub-speacies
Of the Fuchsia plants
That made up nearly a third
Of the Annual Puget Sound's Fuchsia Guild's
Display and tea tasting Sunday
It had been her passion 30 years ago
The colorful plant whose distinguishing characteristic
Are the blossoms generally fuchsia in color
That tended to look in shape
Like those tiny Christmas Tree lighting faerie bulbs
Not the large gawky kind but the tiny kind
That hung as they did at the end of droopy stems
Not unlike the droop of a willow tree
The Fuchsia plants blossom tended to be like a firework's blossom
Just seconds after high above the crowd
The explosion sends shards of colored light
Off in a sphere shape at nearly uniform distance
Creating a round that lasts for seconds
And then disappears into the memory only
What Myrtle loved best about these plants
Was that the beauty that lasted just seconds in the fireworks
Was captured for days in the plants
Really for as long as they blossom
And on this day Myrtle stood proudly
Exhibiting her personal collection
Of a variety of sub-species
Of the Fuchsia plant
That made up nearly a third
Of the Annual Puget Sound's Fuchsia Guild's
Annual display and tea tasting Sunday
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
March 28, 2012
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Quiet Stillness Flows
Quiet stillness flows
Like milk coating messy
Spilling over marble cool viscous
Revealing from out the stone
Soft skin and a smile
An outreached hand
Oh Mother Oh Sister
Beckoning individually
Penerating deep within the soul
To touch the sanguine spirit
The pulsating rhythm of human beings
Given over to service
Given up as offering
Given hope and salve
Given sweet harmonies
The Diety Herself inviting mere mortals
To sing a duet with pure love
Faith burning warm and nourishing
Like a fine sherry
Like a whiskey-laced coffee
Like a bees wax scented pleasuring with vanillas
And sweet berries
And ocean spray hints
Floral aromatic throws
Like the clergy anointing the crowd
With holy water-soaked fresh-picked evergreen branches
A babbling brook-like freshness aerated
Before landing as grace on the forehead
There spread by cross-drawing thumb tips
On brow on lips on heart
Oh sprinkle this blessing on me
Quiet stillness flowing
Like milk coating messy
Spilling over marble cool viscous
Revealing from out of stone
Soft skin and a smile
An outreached hand
Oh Brother Oh Father
Beckoning individually
Penetrating deep within the soul
To touch the sanguine spirit
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
March 7, 2012
Like milk coating messy
Spilling over marble cool viscous
Revealing from out the stone
Soft skin and a smile
An outreached hand
Oh Mother Oh Sister
Beckoning individually
Penerating deep within the soul
To touch the sanguine spirit
The pulsating rhythm of human beings
Given over to service
Given up as offering
Given hope and salve
Given sweet harmonies
The Diety Herself inviting mere mortals
To sing a duet with pure love
Faith burning warm and nourishing
Like a fine sherry
Like a whiskey-laced coffee
Like a bees wax scented pleasuring with vanillas
And sweet berries
And ocean spray hints
Floral aromatic throws
Like the clergy anointing the crowd
With holy water-soaked fresh-picked evergreen branches
A babbling brook-like freshness aerated
Before landing as grace on the forehead
There spread by cross-drawing thumb tips
On brow on lips on heart
Oh sprinkle this blessing on me
Quiet stillness flowing
Like milk coating messy
Spilling over marble cool viscous
Revealing from out of stone
Soft skin and a smile
An outreached hand
Oh Brother Oh Father
Beckoning individually
Penetrating deep within the soul
To touch the sanguine spirit
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
March 7, 2012
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Emerge Vault
Emerge vault
From out the Great Northwest Woods
Catapult my spirit
Through the portals and space
Leap like frogs and kangaroos
Rocket like a complex gadget
Based on the sciences of rubber bands and springs
Launch like one of those
Antique tops of the 19th Century
Surprisingly ingenious for its day
Spring like a gymnast, an acrobat
Using a trampoline to defy gravity
Playfully reaching for the ceiling
Like a pantomime being an eagle
Ballet stepper going up for the dunk
Hearing Jimi Hendrix as anthem
Excuse me while I kiss the sky
The glee more important
Than the aerodynamics of vectors and kinesology
Oh put my soul
On display for all the world to see
The dramatic act of escaping the earth's cling
Certainly much more important
Than the final scores of the judges
Even if it is a perfect 10 at the Olympics
Oh much more
Soar
Emerge vault
From out the Great Northwest Woods
Catapault my spirit
Through the portals of time and space
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
February 29, 2012
From out the Great Northwest Woods
Catapult my spirit
Through the portals and space
Leap like frogs and kangaroos
Rocket like a complex gadget
Based on the sciences of rubber bands and springs
Launch like one of those
Antique tops of the 19th Century
Surprisingly ingenious for its day
Spring like a gymnast, an acrobat
Using a trampoline to defy gravity
Playfully reaching for the ceiling
Like a pantomime being an eagle
Ballet stepper going up for the dunk
Hearing Jimi Hendrix as anthem
Excuse me while I kiss the sky
The glee more important
Than the aerodynamics of vectors and kinesology
Oh put my soul
On display for all the world to see
The dramatic act of escaping the earth's cling
Certainly much more important
Than the final scores of the judges
Even if it is a perfect 10 at the Olympics
Oh much more
Soar
Emerge vault
From out the Great Northwest Woods
Catapault my spirit
Through the portals of time and space
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
February 29, 2012
Old St. Jean, Young Pierre and Sister Mary Anastasia
Where are the folks
Who would inhabit my daydreams
Like Old St. Jean rustic painter
Young Pierre gardener poet
And Sister Mary Anastasia teacher extraordinaire
Where are the folks
Who could coax from out middle school boys
The more creative siblings
To Confusion anger and embarassment
Draw them out and nurture them
Like curiosity passion and self-awareness
Send them to the good fathers of prep schools
Graduate them from primary to secondary grades
Really initiate the rocket of their verve
Toward careers as students fathers lovers and friends
To be worth their weight in loyalty
Able to shoulder their responsibilities
To serve and serve well
While paying attention to their own spirit
To be able to render to their sisters
And their brothers of the spirit
A personality showing
Assistance leadership and achievement
Where are the folks
Who would inhabit my daydreams
Like Old St. Jean rustic painter
Young Pierre gardener poet
And Sister Mary Anastasia teacher extraordinaire
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
February 29, 2012
Who would inhabit my daydreams
Like Old St. Jean rustic painter
Young Pierre gardener poet
And Sister Mary Anastasia teacher extraordinaire
Where are the folks
Who could coax from out middle school boys
The more creative siblings
To Confusion anger and embarassment
Draw them out and nurture them
Like curiosity passion and self-awareness
Send them to the good fathers of prep schools
Graduate them from primary to secondary grades
Really initiate the rocket of their verve
Toward careers as students fathers lovers and friends
To be worth their weight in loyalty
Able to shoulder their responsibilities
To serve and serve well
While paying attention to their own spirit
To be able to render to their sisters
And their brothers of the spirit
A personality showing
Assistance leadership and achievement
Where are the folks
Who would inhabit my daydreams
Like Old St. Jean rustic painter
Young Pierre gardener poet
And Sister Mary Anastasia teacher extraordinaire
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
February 29, 2012
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Oh, Rest My Weary Bones
Oh, rest my weary bones
On this simple house porch
This patio overlooking
A mile away at least
Lake Washington
Watch for activity out on the lake
Mantra that cares and worries
Are like so many passengers
On the jets overhead
Heading away
Like so many boats
Passing out on the lake
The distance between there and here
Sufficient to render silent
Their speed
Their power
Their noise
Quietly I can see their movement
They take their journey
To Forgottenville
So long
Their inevitable trip
To Nowhereberg
Bye Bye
Oh rest my weary bones
On this simple house porch
This patio overlooking
A mile away at least
Lake Washington
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
Feb. 8, 2012
On this simple house porch
This patio overlooking
A mile away at least
Lake Washington
Watch for activity out on the lake
Mantra that cares and worries
Are like so many passengers
On the jets overhead
Heading away
Like so many boats
Passing out on the lake
The distance between there and here
Sufficient to render silent
Their speed
Their power
Their noise
Quietly I can see their movement
They take their journey
To Forgottenville
So long
Their inevitable trip
To Nowhereberg
Bye Bye
Oh rest my weary bones
On this simple house porch
This patio overlooking
A mile away at least
Lake Washington
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
Feb. 8, 2012
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