Cool Winter Sand

To be innocent again

fresh as a fist full of cool winter sand,

when fingers were clenched and the feel of milky way grain did slip away,

slowly.

When peppermint treasure came from a wood covered cave, past heavy door

when sherry scent and grey smoke formed comforting cloak

when I rode a giants shoulders and listened for fern cones falling,

falling

onto paths

upon which, my father did roam.

When happiness was a honey spoon or vegetable patch hole

minds eye lost

day dreamers soul.

When brook and stream were there to be dammed

mud to be held

by innocent hand.

Soldiers commanded behind cork wine wall

a windows ledge

they did so fall.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

Thousand Yard Stare

Thousand yard stare

full of worry

full of care

lost behind

a troubled stare.

Stares a blank page

no time to engage

left behind

this unbreakable cage.

What goes on behind the eyes

only this man knows

a wonder of looks

a series of sighs.

A click of finger

 wont break the stare

of this man

full of worry

full of care.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

Rage

Rage

it used to make me strong

but over time

made me weaker

there was irony

all along.

Hands sweaty

back arched

ready to battle

moments charged.

The shake of the rush

courses through

strength of ten men

unleashes on you.

Guns blazing

no glory

the sad tale

of a once true story.

Punching walls

knuckles bleed

with a wide arm stance

stood a man in need.

But that time has past

Its no longer me

a mournful regret

of the man

you see.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

 

 

Scars On My Brow.

The lines on my brow are scars

they run deep

past troubles not forgotten

even in the darkest of sleep.

 

Time a great healer

not for these scars

they strengthen the walls

keep up the bars.

 

My shoulders spread wide

look of a glare

a lost soul wanders

behind the stare.

 

Its part of the armor

it keeps you all back

don’t press me more

I may lash out

I may attack.

 

But don’t pity what you read

you may have scars yourself

you choose not to believe

but what thou give us

thou shall receive.

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.