Tracks of a Wandering Mind

Poetry, stories and random thoughts from a wandering mind.

Square Pegs

You’re a square peg, you just can’t fit
Into a generic round world.
But they keep on prying
And they keep on trying
To force you into their mold.

Your parents said you were special
But you feel like you’re just strange,
And they don’t have the time
To see that you’re dying
A little bit every day.

It seems easier to give in,
To give up on all of your dreams.
You can just go away,
You can end all the pain
But that’s not the answer you need.

Don’t let the world drop on your head,
Tomorrow is another day.
Put one more behind you
And each one that you do
Might show you another way.

When no one else believes in you,
And you’re fighting just to stay strong,
Know that time is your friend
And if you will just hang in,
Time puts your problems where they belong.


April 11, 2016 Posted by | Poetry | 2 Comments

Well Aged Humor

My wife and I had made over a dozen long distance trips to doctors’ offices in one year for various necessary appointments and this was the result of one of those trips.


My doctor says I’m in great shape,
For the terrible shape I’m in.
My chiropractor pats my back
With a wide and greedy grin.

I have a doc for diets,
One just for my kidneys too,
And my own optometrist
Helps keep my vision true.

All my eager psychologists
Help to make my spirits jump
And my new proctologist
Is an expert on my rump.

Expensive plastic surgeons
For when my face begins to sag;
My internal specialist
Has a cure within his bag.

I have so many doctors
And if each had his way
I’d live at least two hundred years
And I’d still have them to pay!

February 10, 2016 Posted by | Poetry | 3 Comments

The Spark

Do not lose the spark, that madness in your mind,
That fist around your heart that forces you to climb
Higher than you can or ever thought you could,
Laugh now while you can when you never thought you would.

Do not let the world around you burn to ashes while you grieve
For that which might have never been when you fought to believe
In something other than yourself, a phantom hero form,
That leaves you in your darkest mind to shatter while you mourn.

Strike the tinder, light the fire that waits within your heart
For your world will sit in ashes if you hold yourself apart
From the pain and the gladness that are hiding in the spark,
Hidden in your heart that hides alone there in the dark.

January 30, 2016 Posted by | Poetry | Leave a comment

Sestina For A Child

The mist would rise in the early morning
And cover the slopes of the hills in dreams
Of white and gray and soft veils of shadows.
Bright sun peaked the mountaintops and cast dark
Shapes over the green forests that would move
My soul with all the beauty of that world.

Warm rains turned dirt roads to mud in that world
As I rushed out to play in the morning,
And time would stop for me as I would move
From one thing to the next as I chased dreams;
Endless adventures that held me till darkness
Fell and I hurried home in the shadows.

Our lives were good and bad, light and shadow,
But all I knew of life lived in this world.
My universe was home and hills and dark
Shadows and the misted forests of morning,
And I only left that place in my dreams,
Never thinking that I might one day move,

Leaving my heart in the hills, only to move
Me to think of the mountains and shadows
Of home when I slept and for a time dreamed.
Life flew so much faster and my small world
Grew larger and colder, and the morning
Mists and forests and mountains and the dark

Valleys were left behind in the darkness
Of the past, dimly remembered as I moved
Through life, looking to the workday morning,
Chasing time as it fled in the shadows
Of sleep.  Only then could I slow the world,
Recalling the child I was in those dreams.

My world slower now, I have time for those dreams,
The ones he dreamed as he slept in the dark.
That child and I, separated by a world,
Remember more of each other as we move
Closer together in dreams, sifting shadows
To find sun, rain, and hills misted in morning.

To travel the world, as a child does in dreams,
To greet the morning, then welcome the dark,
Knowing sleep will move dreams to again live in shadows.

November 6, 2015 Posted by | Poetry | 2 Comments

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