Nuthatch

Nuthatch,
Nuthatch,
Up,
Down,
Side to side,
Creeping
On
The
V
E
R
T
I
C
A
L.
Oh your busy!
Like the grammar police,
(Of who I am one)
Picking at every bug
Nestled in that bark,
Certainly none the worse
(the bark, that is)
For your
Tree-saving
Bite.

©2022 Bob Mason

Up close and personal, I witnessed a White-breasted Nuthatch busily scurrying up and down a scaly pine the other day. This morning I awakened with it scurrying around my head until these words came out.

I can think of no more appropriate couple to whom to dedicate this offering than Dr. Steve and Janice Nelson. If you know, you know.

Soul Fide

A soul,

Imagined,

Even cherished,

From the infinite depths

Of deepest time;

Real,

Now real,

And meant to be always,

Because the Imaginer

Creates

And loves

To infinity and beyond.

You

Are that soul.

©2018 Bob Mason

I dedicate this poem to Tiffany, our daughter who came to us as part of the plan that has always been. It's her birthday.

Though it is dedicated especially to Tiffany, it is also true for you, whoever you are. The Creator of all meant for you to be, and that is why you are here. You are treasured. You are cherished.

The picture is one I took during the lunar eclipse of December 21, 2010. Below the moon is the constellation Orion.

Counting Characters - @varipoet

Follow me on Twitter--@varipoet--for the occasional exactly 140 character poem.

Here's my first one:

Counting Characters

Counting characters because character counts,
By the letter or by the ounce.
I commit to use them every one,
One hundred 40, and not 41.

©2016 Bob Mason

Thank the Bard

If parting is such sweet sorrow,

Let me think,

Let me think,

Why this phrasing seeks to borrow

My mind

At such a time

as this

When the sweetness has not settled

And my skin feels only nettled

At impending loss.

The sting

The sting

The itch

The sting.

The sweetness, I suppose,

Is the love we've known

That makes alone all the lonelier.

Thank the Lord.

Thank the bard.

©2013 Bob Mason

I Am Of

I am of the hills

Where division of land and sea and sky remains unsettled,

Where curves define all boundaries,

And the kingdom of plants still reaches for pieces of the sky.

I am of the shore

Where air and water and stone combine in frothy tumult,

Where tides change all the rules,

And creatures must constantly decide to which dominion they belong.

I am of the sky  

Where star and cloud and rainbow tug upward on my soul, 
Where birds negotiate with gravity,  
And I am free to dream on the edges of infinity.

I am of the One,

In Whom I live and move and have my being,

Who is and was and is to come,

And fills my every moment and place with love and meaning.

© 2016 Bob Mason

The Smell of Grace (Communion)

I smelled the blood today,
But it did not smell like blood.
The concord sweetness filled my eager nostrils,
Sweetness that conquered my heart long ago and still.

I lift the silver lid.
The wafting vapors whisper,
Sweet whisper of love,
Incomprehensible sacrifice,
Overwhelming lavishment,
The taste of fruit undeserved and luscious,
Crushed
That I might smell,
That I might taste,
That I might absorb to utter saturation,
Love, infinite and inexhaustible.

I thirst no more and yet ever.

©2013 Bob Mason

Tomorrow

Like a big boy, I said,

“Go ahead, find your new way.

I’ve made my choice;

I’ve heard the voice;

Move forward, always forward.”

But the little boy saw you

Reaching for tomorrow,

Definitively, purposefully,

Reaching for tomorrow.

He must confess, wistfully, longingly,

In the third person,

His sorrow,

Mixed with bright prayer.

©2013 Bob Mason

7/26/2013

It's been some time since I had to write a poem.

The Smile

I don’t know what it was,
If it was meth or death, booze or lose,
But it was all over her face,
And it wasn’t pretty.

A smile dropped down onto mine,
From somewhere up where love lives.
And you should have seen it.

That smile leapt across an unknown distance,
Washed across her face,
And I mean washed,
Washed away the ugly,
Washed away the pain,
Leaving only beauty to shine again,
Oh such beauty to shine again.

©2012 Bob Mason

Tidbits of Paradise

Fields of laughter greet my eyes.
Gleams of rapture meet the skies.
Grasses bloom and shout to me,
"See how you were meant to be?
Peaceful, loving, wild and free,
Peaceful, loving, wild and free."

Sunrise pastels paint the clouds.

Night withdraws her velvet shrouds.
Song erupts from Mockingbird.
Pictures form from beauty heard.
Thoughts are best without a word.
Thoughts are best without a word.
 
In my mind the chorus forms,
Loosed from usual human norms,
Bursting out from blade to brow,
"Lord please tell me, tell me how,
Life was better then than now.
Life was better then than now."
 
Ó1993 Bob Mason


This one came from the files, brought to mind by listening to The Innocence Mission's rendition of "What a Wonderful World." http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ah96-6aOng

The poem is inspired by that moment of beauty that we sometimes get in this world, the moment that fleetingly seems like nothing could ever surpass it nor ever could have.

I've Got the Blue

Oh baby!
      I’ve got the blue.

You heard it right,

No ‘s’ on this blue.
      ‘s’ for sad,
           ‘s’ for someday . . . please.

I’ve got THE blue,

       yes, THAT blue.

Brilliant, electric,

Never sucking

        but always adding light
                to the room,
                     to the view,
                             to you.

The blue shining up

       from Crater Lake's edge,

The blue that promises

       Your movie
             is about
                   to begin.

Oh yes baby,

      I’ve got
           that blue.

©2012 Bob Mason

Defining Consciousness

Memory engages the present,
Absorbing it into the future,
And says,
“There are others!”

©2012 Bob Mason

The God Particle

 

In my life,
     I’ve heard a lot of noise
about God.
     I’ve even made some.

How shocking

      that His closest competition
Wields no thunderbolts
      But possibly rides them
A particle that may exist.

Still, ignorant but hopeful devotees pay rapt attention

      As the high priests
           Of physics
Pore over the entrails
      Of freshly slaughtered protons
           Looking for Higgsian clues
To the existence of all things,
Including me.

©2012 Bob Mason