Reflections

Reflections,
White clouds upon the water,
Like first stirrings of cream in coffee,
Hard memories fade as edges blur,
Converging billowing clouds in every dimension,
From every direction,
Falling and rising,
White upon soft white
And the feel of softest down,
A pinch of sun brightens everything,
Happiness peaks from behind clouds,
Bluest blue and brighter still,
It fills the corner of my heart,
Until sadness all but disappears,
Grief to despair,
Longing to want,
Acceptance to appreciation,
And life to love again,
Past a blur,
Life a blend,
Of every pure,
And glorious end,

Peter Lowell Paulson
March 31, 2011

Withered Want

I met a homeless man today by chance,
Who had a hapless life and circumstance,
The morning’s sun not risen all was dark,
A cold wind blew and atmosphere was stark,

A café near and those who were within,
Were rapt in thought as this day would begin,
And little mind to this poor soul outside,
Few moments shared in what he would confide.

He asked if he could share his soulful song,
I let him draw me in I saw no wrong,
What wariness I felt would fall away,
I heard this city’s angel voice today.

But darker angels held this soul as well,
The poorer side of life to him befell,
What meaning could I draw for us to meet,
This lonely man and I on city street.

I knew a couple dollars was the fare,
For song and story that the man would share,
But ghosts will hither haunt my inner mind,
Until there’s withered want for all mankind.

Peter Lowell Paulson

March 26, 2011

Twenty Steps to Heaven

Twenty steps to heaven,

From first floor to basement door,

Of my building,

Into the cement stairwell,

Which nobody ever uses,

They all go through the front door,

But I, in my secret catacomb,

Alone in my day,

I can see people walking to their cars,

But they don’t see me,

I enjoy a cigarette here,

Untethered, unfettered,

I hear rain high above on the canvas awning,

Peaceful,

A few snowflakes make it through a couple of tears,

Brown leaves fly in settling in the corners,

Of the cement steps,

In the summer I share my space,

With a couple of wasps building-

Their adobe huts on the warm brick wall,

And that’s all,

They must like it too,

Nobody ever comes here to bother us.

In five minutes I ascend to the real world,

Business, commerce, people,

But I’ll be back,

I’ll be back.


Peter Lowell Paulson

March 23, 2011

I Dislike Computer Hackers

I dislike computer hackers,
They are nothing more than slackers,
In my dream I saw them greeting,
One another at their meeting.

They were just as you’d expect them,
And they even had a system,
Meeting them was my intention,
At their annual convention,

Saw the registration table,
To sign in and get my label,
And to give my information,
Name, address, resident nation.

They just laughed for in their glory,
Knew my background every story,
Back to my birthday’s creation,
Up to present occupation.

So I came to the conclusion,
They were worse for their intrusion,
But I will shout from every steeple,
What I learned about these people.

They sit around in footed jammies,
Cry all day, “We want our mammies,”
They wet their pants and suck their thumbs,
Crawl on the floor; eat table crumbs.

Now you have the true rendition,
Of these nerds and their condition,
And all I need is a collection,
Of up-to-date hardware protection.

Peter Lowell Paulson

March 22, 2011

My Vizsla - Sonnet VII

Fleet of foot through frosty field he flies,
All slender, sleek and silky this fine hound,
And with his reddish coat he’s stately gowned,
Contrasts with somber grays the cloud filled skies,
The race is on toward his avian prize,
His nose in rapid movement near the ground,
The ears a constant sensor hears a sound,
As he besets to point the prey that shies,
Our daily walks along the river run,
Are not for pheasant, dove or coveyed quail,
What fonder way to find the morning’s start,
To see his joy with every dawning sun,
As we traverse together on this trail,
This friend and I have found a common heart.

Peter Lowell Paulson
March 21, 2011

Elijah's Baptism Day

Three infants born this year are all of Grandma’s pride and joy,
And Grandpa is all busting buttons for each one a boy,
We have an older Grandson, who has turned the age of five,
He is the leader of this crew and loves to watch them thrive.

And on this Sunday family will meet upon this date,
The youngest will be baptized to our God we’ll dedicate-
His life to further learning of the sweet and gentle ways,
Of Jesus Christ our Savior who will watch him all his days.

Each one the grandsons all were Christened; each a special time,
Their loving parents held their infants with a love sublime,
And in the church before their God they stated here and now,
That their young son would learn the faith and each professed this vow.

And afterward we’ll celebrate the son, husband and wife,
For on this day and forward they have entered a great life,
How rich the family in love and faith will always be,
True bound by love from Heaven and for all eternity.

Peter Lowell Paulson
March 18, 2011

My Micropachycephalogsaurus

Once I asked my grandson Horace,

What is your favorite dinosaurus,

He stated his familiar chorus,

It’s Micropachycephalosaurus,

My Micropachycephalosaurus,

No spine-backed thing like Stegosaurus,

Or razor-toothed Tyrannosaurus

That's Micropachycephalosaurus,

Yes, Micropachycephalosaurus,

He's not a bull or Latin Taurus,

He has no horn; he will not gore us,

And Micropachycephalosaurus,

He would not hide or ever store us,

Because he's kind and always for us,

Now Micropachycephalosaurus,

If he told jokes he’d always floor us,

And keep us laughing; never bore us,

Oh, Micropachycephalosaurus,

If we love him then he’ll adore us,

So one more time we’ll sing the chorus,

For Micropachycephalosaurus.


Peter Lowell Paulson

March 15, 2011