The ancient forest, proud and tall
On top of which the flyers call
Their roots are deep; their branches wide
The Sun from Earth do their leaves hide.

Beneath the treetops in the dark
stand sturdy columns swathed in bark.
The emerald mural they uphold
Has recently been lined with gold.

But with myself alone I share
These regal halls so vast and bare.
A rusty carpet of the dead
Across the empty floor is spread.

Like tired leaves are shed the seeds
Who briefly dance along the breeze
Before they rest on forest floor
Upon which they would dance no more.

The lucky few who get to sprout
And are not promptly weeded out
Will have to fight if they’re to share
That which in this forest is rare.

The handful, then, that do survive
Are able to in darkness thrive
And one must ask if it is right
For plants to live without the light.

Regardless now, these plants are new,
Despite the fact that they be few,
It will be they who must stand tall
And watch the leaves of fathers fall.

I wrote this one while at Lockheed, and it reflects my feelings for the company at the time, but it is also a commentary on growing up in a competitive world, and about inheriting a crumbling empire.

You see a boy who twirls his hair
His face expressionless and bare
Who stutters when he tries to speak
And bears the label of a geek.

To hear a compliment is rare
And even then, you wouldn’t care.
He could not have that which you seek.
For you, his heart is much too weak.

I see a work of art so fair
That I forget about the air.
A thousand poems have I read
But only one now fills my head.

If my mind could but prepare
The words to tell her that I care.
Though not in words could it be said.
The horse to water has been led.

So if you notice that I stare,
It’s not that I intend to scare.
Instead I fear to look away
Back to a world so dark and grey.

I wrote this some time back in 2003 while at Lockheed.  It was a bit of a throw back to my high school days.  Typical nerdy kid stuff, nothing special.

As I was walking down the street
I saw a movement at my feet.
There dancing in the summer breeze
Was that which does not grow on trees.

I passed without a second glance
And left it to another’s chance.
For I did not have urgent need
Nor was I overcome with greed.

But you saw opportunity
And thought I acted foolishly.
So unlike me, you bent to steal
What could have been another’s meal.

Indeed it had not crossed your mind
That others might be left behind
Since you believe that not to gain
When possible would be insane.

You fear that if too long you wait
It falls onto another’s plate.
I ask you, "Would it be so bad
If what you want, another had?"

"It is no fault of mine" you say,
"That others lose from their delay."
Ah, now your thoughts to me are clear
And I can understand your fear.

If I am unfit to survive
Upon my weakness you would thrive.
It is my place to fall behind.
But you don’t see inside my mind.

Perhaps in weakness I see power
Known by every springtime flower.
The virtue that takes years to learn
Is in the strength to wait one’s turn.

This is another Lockheed inspired poem, though it’s also a reflection on our aggressive, goal oriented society. It’s got a little Zen feel to it, too. A little. I want a break between the 2nd and 3rd lines of the 6th stanza, but whatever. Maybe I’ll change it some day.

Late one night, my instincts woke me.
From that protective warmth I crept
Along with curiosity.
My fear so great I almost wept
As I saw pale distant glow.

Wan strip slipped beneath the door
And washed my feet in eerie light.
My wond’ring heart still needed more.
So in I strode. My chest felt tight.
Finally, relief did flow.

I breathed familiarity,
But from me still some thing was kept.
My eyes swept, immune to the roar
Down in front as I saw that sight.
A full moon. And now I know.

This one I wrote during my Freshman poetry class. It was supposed to be a play off some other poem, but I can’t remember which now. I had it written down somewhere. Anyway, it was kind of goofy and I don’t like it much. I just think it’s funny cause it’s about a guy who’s got to pee in the middle of the night.

At last a kind sun warms my face.
I change into my summer gear,
I walk at my relaxed pace,
Believing I have not this fear.

But

As always in this cursed place
Chill rushing wind roars ’round my ear.
The sun will not prevail this race
And to my eye returns this tear.

The wind up here is so clever. Will I be cold forever?

I came up with this one on my way to class in Ithaca during my Freshman or Sophomore year. It’s partially about the cold, windy, Ithaca weather, and partially about shattered hopes.

Awaken, morning’s lordly light
And chase away the dark of night.
Away from you all chill doth creep
I wish I had your love to keep.
If strength inside me I could find
I’d whisper words so true and kind.
No beauty on Earth can compare
To when I see you, setting there.
Alas, upon each night we part
I feel that tugging at my heart.
If only I had been so bold
My hidden passions, you’d be told.
I wish I had not waited long
For now the morning’s light has gone.

This one was written during high school. It’s one of my favorites. I wrote it about a girl in my class that I liked but was too shy to ever talk to. Typical high school stuff.

Just one more minute
In the cold
And, though I’m soaked
I must be bold
For one last minute.

Just one more time
Up in the air
I’ll swing my arm
Above my hair
Just one last time.

Just one more joke
Before I crack
And then they’ll see
I’ll get them back
With one last joke.

Just one more test
And then I’m done
Once I’ve finished
It’ll be so fun
After one last test.

So, this is one I wrote while I was sitting around, bored out of my mind during Regents exams in my Senior year of High School. If you don’t know, Regents are basically final exams. In New York, it was the standard. Anything less than a Regents degree was about as good as a GED.

Anyways, this was a bit of a tribute to a few kids who died while I was growing up. The first one was a little girl who’s mother poured water on her and made her stand outside (in the middle of winter) as a remedy for a headache (I think). The girl was young (maybe 9) and obviously died as a result. Her mother was a nurse.

The second was a kid who lived near me and loved basketball. He and some friends used a trampoline to slam dunk, and held on to the rim. He wanted to do just one more before going in for the day. That’s when the backboard broke free of the pole, and he was crushed by it and the rim.

The third was a guy who I played soccer with at one time, and was pretty popular. I don’t know why he did it, but he hung himself. I left it a bit open ended because it could be him, or any of a number of tortured souls who found no other way to cope.

The last was lighter, and necessary after the three very sad ones before it. Basically it was saying that all the pressures before will be gone after the test and school is done. I was very optimistic about the future out in the real world. Little did I know that the real world could also be just as cruel, but usually moreso.

When I was young I misconceived
That carefully each thread was weaved.
And as the loom, each thread consumed
The next in line would be retreived.

But all this time I’d been deceived,
The tension never was relieved.
It’s not the pattern I’d assumed.
I doubt now what I once believed.

Despite my sins I was reprieved.
And through my patience I received
The chance to have my class resumed
Into a quilt the thread had bloomed.

I wrote this one after I got back from Florida. Basically it was about having a plan, then things not following that plan and in impatience, wanting to take another route but waiting and being rewarded by ending up back where you expected to be. Or something like that.

What man can write less pad and pen?
What hand can grip without it’s thumb?
Where will live bear if not their den?
When will answers to me come?

When I am stricken blind and dumb
and cannot hear the thoughts of men.

No puzzle wishes to be solved.
No problem easily resolved.
Not all poems rhyme.

This was another early one from the Fort Walton Beach days. I was wandering around at night, and had a few lines that I put together, then ran out of ideas. It’s a bit lame, but it was something. I consider this and the footprints ones to be warm-ups.

This is a recipe I used as a trial run for a wedding cake, and it came out very good.

10-inch round pan
Ingredients:

• 1¼ cup All Purpose Gluten-Free Flour
• ½ cup Coconut Flour
• 1 tsp Xantham Gum
• 1¼ tsp Baking Soda
• 1¾ tsp Baking Powder
• ½ tsp Ground Cloves
• ½ tsp Cinnamon
• ½ tsp Nutmeg
• (Or replace the above for 1½ tsp Apple Pie Spice)
• 1 stick Butter
• 1 cup White Sugar
• 3 tbsp Brown Sugar
• 2¼ tsp Vanilla Extract
• 3 tbsp Non-Dairy Creamer (Flavored: Vanilla Caramel)
• 3 Eggs
• 1¾ cups Apple – cored, skinned, and finely chopped

Preheat oven to 350°F and grease your pan. Dust the pan with Rice flour (I used Sorghum because we had a lot of it)

In a medium bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients (flour, xantham gum, baking soda, baking powder, spices)
Set aside

In the bowl of your mixer, cream the butter for about 1 minute or until softened.
Add both sugars and beat for about 2 minutes.
Add the eggs, one at a time, and beat until well incorporated.
Blend in the creamer.
Turn mixer on low and add the dry ingredients, half at a time, beating after each addition until they are well absorbed.
(You want a smooth, even consistency)

Remove the bowl from the stand and gently fold in the apples.
Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for 40-45 minutes, or until the tester comes out clean and the cake pulls away from the edges of the pan.

Once it is finished, you may dust with confectioners sugar, or drizzle with a glaze made from a blend of fruit juice and confectioners sugar. I used a glaze made from Apricot jelly by first boiling the jelly, then straining it. The resulting glaze was spooned (you can use a pastry brush if you have one) onto the cake.

This would work well as a breakfast cake. The spices were a bit potent, so I would suggest less cloves, and possibly more cinnamon. You want about 1½ tsp of apple pie spice. I made my own mix.