Min deat ven Susi, jeg håber, at dette finder dig ved godt helbred.
Jeg ved, jeg har ikke skrevet meget i år. Som ordene kommer jeg skriver dem.
Altid når jeg er færdig med den ene, og sende det mit sind vandrer til min ven i Danmark.
I tru ånden i denne dag, jeg ønsker dig og dine en skønhed fyldt dag.
Må det nye år bringe lysere dage og større velsignelser, der er på din dør skridt.
Fortæl din familie Jeg synes stadig af dem, og ønsker dem alt godt også.
Som verdens begivenheder er som de er ... fra på tværs af havet saltet af for mange tårer de sidste år ... Kan du finde lykken dagligt med de små ting og erindringer.
Glædelig jul,
Din ven Chris

This is what happens when the mind wanders while doing some

yard work. It is cool. the sun is shining, and a slight breeze is

blowing tempting frustration at the collection of the leaves

 

 

Memories of Leaves

 

 Standing in the yard

pulling Falls’ discarded leaves

to my feet

mixing, piling

one upon the other…

 

Missing some scattered

by a light breeze

which tempts the frustration

of an incomplete collection…

 

Memories gained in

a year of life...

 

Such are all memories

gathered in the

twilight of life.

The detritus of the living,

gathered and discarded,

at the feet

of humanity.

ccd

Oct. 2015



I hate none, despise some, saddened by many.

 Surrounded by family and friends we ,as the tree

in the forest, are still but one. Through adversity

we grow and hopefully come to understand our life

is tied to all around us. We are the center of our lives

but not the center of everyone else's. We control nothing

and one day will return to the dust from whence we came,

If there is comedy in justice for all then maybe a speck of my dust will

irritate the eyes of the ones I despise.

 

 

 

Ravages of Time

 From the rip rap

of a dam that no longer

holds water 

A single stem stands

straight and tall…

Flowers and leaves are

memories lost

There once was a time

 this thing of beauty did

bend and dance

through the flow of its life 

Now this is but a single brittle bone

standing tall, unyielding

waiting to crumble to dust 

Shall the bones of our arrogance

for self import

attest to

the ravages of time? 

ccd

Sept 2015

Where does one start when sitting atop a mountain?

 

I gaze above yearning to go higher.
I shift my eyes to what lies below
At my feet, pick and shovel
handles worn and stained
I look to my hands cracked and callused
with age
My tools given to me in the sun warmed valley
of clover and wildflower below.


Mother, father, pointing, you start here
now go there; we can help only so far.
We broke the ground not to dig but to
build.
We are your foundation.

Day by day, year by year by year
with pick and shovel....
Standing, kneeling, crawling
move a boulder, fill a hole.
Mother and father, bodies left
behind, their love I carry is no
burden. I still see their long shadows
in the valley below, feel their touch. 

Up the mountain here and there
scattered patches of more wildflower,
clover, and grass.
Places marking my moments of rest.
I see the grove of trees I planted when
I started my girls on their mountain quest.
I wonder how high they will build.

Again here and there gardens of roses.
Living monuments to the ones I have loved
All scattered among tossed aside boulders.
Through each and every garden runs one stream
laid with gold and silver.
As my life meanders up this mountain so did
this stream of riches.
Each step I took lengthened this stream.

It flows, it flows with the sweat of my labors,
the tears of my heart, and the blood of my soul.

I will rest for a bit now.
Again I turn my gaze to the heavens.
This mountain stoops my back a bit
I still smile for there is more building
to do.

ccd
Aug.2015

 

 

Quiet of Emptiness

 

The hiss of distant cars

traveling upon unseen

roads...

The whine of  engines,

intrusions upon my mind...

 

Chaos unwanted in

a days’ walk

 

I ask for but a moment

with the silence of

drifting cloud wisps

floating above my head...

 

The clarity of

mirrored lakes' surface

entering my thoughts

burning off a chilled

morning fog…

 

The quiet of

emptiness

to see the beauty

of life in

motion

 

ccd

Aug 2015

 

 

 

 

 



We lessen ourselves with our self-import in our arrogance.

We are more in the resilience of our souls.

 

Insignificant ? 

 

  Lone tree in valley

A giant among flowers
Trapped by fortunes lot

 King of the valley
Smaller than mountains surround
Still lord unto self

Reed from the water
Bending to the winds desire
Rebounds in its grace

 Lessening ourselves
with arrogant self import

blinded, we are more...

 

Detachments from all

The resilience of souls
More than what we are

ccd August 2015

 

 

 

 

 



Heather

So today The young woman I call a displaced daughter posted a blurb on facebook asking people to tell what they like about her. I have known Heather for 28 years. She is Ashley's BFF for those 28 yrs.  When I saw the post I had to Know exactly what a "heather" is so I went to the dictionary. From that came this....

Heather

 

A name…

 A flower that lies upon the treeless hills

among the rocks

wild and free…

Lavender and pink that shows itsself

to the sun and moon...

Giving a fragrance of its life to the winds

sharing for all....

Now a Lady of beauty walking among mankind....

Heather



Hey Lady friend  Susi,

  I sure hope this translates well.

Det er dejligt at høre fra dig. Jeg håber, at liv er at behandle dig og din familie anstændigt.
Jeg gør ok. Jeg skriver, når jeg er inspireret. Den seneste digt jeg startede sidste efterår.
de andre 2 tis tidligere April. Hvis der er tristhed det kan skyldes mig sandsynligvis lukke
butikken i slutningen af juni måned .. Business er så slemt. I denne lille by er der ingen penge
venstre i slutningen af lønsedler for udgifterne sjov.
   Jeg er kommet til udtryk med det. Jeg er i et godt sted mentaly lige nu. Jeg håber at
være at skrive mere med bekymringer ud af mit sind.

Your friend across the miles,
Chris

now not in translation. These poems may seem sad but The one written April 1st is how religion is
driving this world crazy. I think people need to get more in touch with their souls and spirituality
than words written in different books by man.

As for the first poem of  May I have too many customers that speak with their feet stuck in their mouths

Morning Moon

Too little do you see

the world in light  of day...

More are the thoughts in

my mind

scattered as the leaves
of fall

finished in their purpose,
shreaded upon the ground

I wonder

Do you carry envy

in your heart when

you linger with the

morning sun?

Do you seek the 

secrets of brightness and warmth

when rains bring forth

thoughts of winters

to come?

I do

ccd
May 2015

Ravages of Thought

I awoke this morning

among the rubble,

Skeletons of factory and home

Tears form in my heart...

I have seen much of the 

ravages of war

Destruction of lives brought

by

the hands of man...

These tears are not 

for that...
 

Memories, dreams

 crumbling to dust   

skeleton frames reaching,

grasping for lives long gone  

Too few return
seeking what was lost...
 

My heart cries for the ravages
of thought
brought on by

abandonment through

time

ccd
May 2015

Hear Your Soul

There is no religion of the 

soul

Religion is of the mind

God is of the soul...

The mind of religion separates

all 

from the soul
creating turmoil

Close your eyes, and 
mouth

Listen in unseeing silence 
to hear your 
soul...

Bathe in its beauty...

ccd April 2015