Tag Archives: David Schmidt

Early Morning Moments

by David Schmidt


echos clang a brash cymbal

like the early morning sounds

of a trash can lid being rousted

by some stray pet

out looking for an easy snack

my heart beats out a steady rhythm

that I can see in my eye balls

if I squint real hard

and stare at the blank wall

some fool just has to try his car horn

to let people know

he is too important to be ignored

by other drivers

who are tucked down low

trying to sneak a quick cell phone text

before the roving eyes

of some nosey cop takes a notice

shadows dance upon the wall

and jump to the ceiling

and creep over the crevices

and ridges of the painted cornice

slotted formations created

by filtered sun rays

forcing their way through

venetian blinds’ thin slitted openings

brilliant morning light reflecting

on anything that’s able

to shimmer and glow a glaring blast

of electrical energy

solar ignition of hydrogen gas

burning endlessly to heat our days

and bounce off the moon’s face at night

without it we would cease to exist

too much and we all die trying

a perfect balance must be achieved

to keep life advancing forward

 

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Assertion Of Power

by David Schmidt


people together enjoined or connected

producing a joint that should be respected

each single ego will seek it’s own base

to rise or retreat at a comfortable pace

no balancing point or smooth even keel

one holds the sword as the weaker will kneel

many relations exist as a bond

distantly passive or blissfully fond

a dominant being will make all the noise

the lowly observes in a halo of poise

the parent and child or husband and wife

the hand of the whip enables the strife

in a vacuum of strength power will egress

grasping the reins to maintain the stress

in the lake of aggression the mild cannot float

but sink to the bottom or cling to the boat

 

Country Mood

by David Schmidt


I have traveled the rural road

the lonely streets and empty lanes

the grayish skies and barren trees

broken fences and leaning posts

 

deer crossing sign with bullet holes

someone with an anxious finger

a youth with his first rifle

had to shoot something

 

a weathered barn with sagging roof

once filled with fresh cut hay

an empty house

once filled with laughter

 

broken dreams dance with empty promises

rusty machinery stuck to the ground

skeleton of a tired truck

mail box door hangs like a wagging tongue

 

“Motel 7 Miles Ahead” that lies dead

killed by the Freeway

the wind now sings a new song

of remorse and solitude

 

splintered wood and flaking paint

succumb to the power of Mother Nature

twisting vines force their way

as new life pushes through

 

Barking Dog

by David Schmidt


off in the distance I can hear a dog barking

sometimes it gets louder but usually it is dim

it seems like it never ever stops

it may be very inaudible at times

just a faint little sound

but if I listen very closely I can hear it

it has become so common that I usually tune it out

but that is too bad… because

there is always a reason that a dog barks

it should not be ignored

no one wants to investigate the bark

it’s not our dog so ……. we don’t need to bother

it is just someone else’s worry

perhaps the dog is in trouble or

maybe someone else is in trouble

but there is a that dog that is compelled to bark

and it has a good reason to bark

it tries to arouse us and bring us to action

it is a bark of complaint and a bark of anguish

it is the bark of frustration and pain

it is the bark of injustice and unfairness

the bark of despair and sadness

but we close the window and shake our heads

then complain about the barking

 

The Tribe

by David Schmidt


feet mimic the drums by the light of the fire

tongues wag to the beat of the rhythmic chants

connected in the warmth of the spiritual embers

entwined by the chords of evolved tribal nature

compassion and protection embolden the fold

the weak cling to hands much stronger and firm

united together in the high walls of trust

anxiety forms a cloud outside of the circle

danger spins a web in the deep foggy shadows

strange new faces cause muscles to tighten

spears point their tips at dark tinted skin

rivers of fear spill over their banks

veins expand wide to pulse at the rage