Red

red running through colors of light,
angry,
no caring,
only wanting to be part of the painting.

Douglas Polk

crowd

the crowd mourning,

heads bent,

waiting for warmer days,

and the pain to die,

the crowd,

companions,

along for the ride,

until time shall end,

and we alone once again.

Douglas Polk

wondering

the why and what,

never understood,

questions unasked,

life not a puzzle,

or a gift,

to the illiterate brain.

Douglas Polk

creation

the colors of creation,

early morning blues,

and yellows and reds of the morning sunrise,

interwoven with the clouds of white,

a new day dawning.

Douglas Polk

Questions

on bent knee begin to pray,

the answers not what are wanted,

or expected,

raising questions raised,

wondering if things better,

if I just take charge,

a sin,

on so many levels,

prayers needed,

even if never said.

Douglas Polk

Calmness

colors warm,

beautiful,

the soul content,

sitting and viewing the painting,

hoping the soothing feeling lasts.

Douglas Polk

Angry American

politics now controlled by the loudest voice,

scream your ignorance for the world to hear,

America,

a land to fear,

full of idiots and fools.

Douglas Polk

Dark Winter

ice and snow,

in the dead of winter,

trees sleeping,

dreaming of warmer days.

Douglas Polk

Casey

my horse,

and very best friend,

riding the hills of sand,

missed,

now that I am old and gray,

and no longer able to ride the hills of my dreams.

Douglas Polk

Barney

our dog Barney,

named for a dinosaur,

a good dog,

living almost 18 years,

a friend to the end.

Douglas Polk

flowers

flowers splattered on the canvas,

more an artists dream,

instead of natural plants,

yet a reminder,

of a childhood spent in a magical garden,

where time stood still,

and beauty reigned.

Douglas Polk

Park Fountain

a fountain in the park,

a grandma's canvas,

surrounded by flowers,

planned for months,

the colors coordinated,

yet seemingly so natural,

until she retired and the flowerbeds died,

leaving a fountain in the park,

all alone.

Douglas Polk

hospital view

out the window of the hospital room,

the view one of any old mansion,

with walls,

and tunnels,

a wonderful place to sled,

but no tracks,

of sled or foot,

sad the view out the hospital window.

Douglas Polk

times gone by

passed by,

no longer of use,

it sits a symbol of the past,

time the enemy,

as the wood rots,

and begins to fall.

Douglas Polk

calvary

trees like crosses,

on the hillside,

reminding one of the sacrifices made,

life given within death,

trees on the hillside,

crosses in the mind.

Douglas Polk

windlass hill

the valley viewed from windlass hill,

the river near,

but unseen,

dusty miles traveled to get this far,

off the dry table lands,

to the valley below,

where hope and water,

spring from the very ground.

Douglas Polk

Paint Drops

paint drops drip on the canvas,

with a mind all their own,

the colors the choice of the artist,

but the concept one with the universe,

complete and whole.

Douglas Polk

cow pony

not a beauty that catches the eye,

this horse has to be known to be loved,

smart as a whip,

making the correct move,

before the command even given,

only as fast as he needs to be,

he works cattle,

making the job easier,

a partner one can love,

when the beauty understood.

Douglas Polk

soft

colors in the soft evening light,

seem cozy and warm,

deceitful,

as a bad lover,

the soft colors,

hide the terrors of the night,

cold and uncaring,

waiting only for the light,

to fade out.

Douglas Polk

Chimney Rock

 in the middle of nowhere,

a rock formation,

reminding settlers of home,

and heath,

knowing the mountains draw near,

the difficulties intensify,

so take a breath,

and carve your name in the soft stone,

for others to see,

and be inspired.

Douglas Polk

trials

days hard,

burdens heavy,

keep the head down,

and move forward,

one foot after another,

until it time to rest.

Douglas Polk

summer dreams

swimming slides,

and cooling water,

a summer memory,

seeming unreal in the depths of winter.

Douglas Polk

connected

enemies or scapegoats,
connected,
both being blamed.

Douglas Polk

fish

fish out of water,

gasping for breath,

the world unpleasant,

when feeling out of place.

Douglas Polk

river

river green,

a memory cherished,

in the cold days of winter,

and snow,

and ice,

the heart icy,

and the mind a slush.

Douglas Polk

Questions

praise or punishment,

the clan wonders,

if prayers heard,

or secrets betrayed,

the winter long and cold.

Douglas Polk

toxic

the sludge continues to flow,

both physical and emotional garbage,

polluting body and soul,

day after day,

the sludge continues to flow.

Douglas Polk

winter trees

trees along the river,

colors of green and brown,

waiting for the snow and rain,

a shelter in the winter storms,

home to creatures of every kind.

Douglas Polk

Sledding

trip down the hill,

at thousand miles an hour,

least that was the way it seemed,

when just a lad,

cold and wet,

and happy beyond belief,

in the winter hills of Nebraska.

Douglas Polk

Middle Loup

one of a brother of rivers,

three in all,

each flowing into the Mother Platte,

once home to the mighty Pawnee,

alone on the plains of Nebraska,

before the horse and gun.

Douglas Polk

A New Day

a new year,

a new day,

the world changing,

faster,

and faster,

until it seems the world soon dropped upon your head,

a new day.

Douglas Polk