Trees by the Dismal River

 

a doorway, or maybe not

 

Bridge over the canal

bridge in the park,

over the canal.

a wonderful place to walk,

and think about important things,

things that are timeless,

precious,

and holy.

     

To Calli

the cat that showed up at our house, adopted us, and trusted us with her kittens. she passed a few years back, and we are left with just one of her kittens. I hope she knows the joy she and her kittens brought into our lives, for well over 20 years. thinking of you today, Calli, and want to thank you one last time.
 

Free

faces seen in the painting,

not meant to be there,

escaping the brain,

making the long dangerous journey,

to the hand, and brush stroke,

forever free.

 

Storms

 

storms,

no harbor of calm,

just wave after wave,

storm upon storm,

as the days pass by.

 

 

trees and wild flowers in the mountains

 

flower under attack

 

 

@polkspoems     to listen to poems being read by Douglas Polk

                                    Dad'sTinyHome   to purchase paintings by Douglas Polk

old bridge across a creek

 

a bridge across a creek,

symbol of moment in time,

can I go over and then come back,

or am I trapped by the decision made,

as the bridge, rotten and old,

begins to fall into the creek.

 

scratchings

 

 

the meeting

the meeting, awkward,

words unspoken,

a story unread,

silence,

both walking away,

with images in their minds of what might have been,

 

 

cranes

 

time for bed

time for bed,

though millions of thoughts remain in my head,

a journey through a restless mind,

the journey truly one of a kind.

 

a masterpiecee

paint splashed on the canvas,

the need to express overwhelms,

visions collide,

the mind steps away,

happy and satisfied.

 

a thought about our world today

the world crazy,

time never a friend,

get yourself right,

because any moment, 

 the whole thing could end.

Memorial

remembering loved ones . . . . .

 

mountain top

 

faces seen in the mountain top,

five or six,

soldiers, natives,

even presidents,

sleeping in the granite,

and limestone.

 

 

Souls

in this time of war,

souls continuously leaving their bodies behind,

some on to the afterlife,

while others sit awaiting judgement,

as to where they are to go.

 

the Dismal