Contained

Glass full of echoes
Tote full of tears
Cup full of memories
Mug of cold beer

Scoop with my wishes

Boot with my cries

Pocket of mystery

Plenty of lies

Halo of happy

Hand full of hope

When they get low

I drag and I mope

Heart full of blood

Pumping around

Eyes full of wonder

Ears full of sound

These are the things

I carry ‘round with me all day

I can’t let ‘em go

They’re full of the stuff I say

A mountain of loss

A room with no view

A burden of sorrow

To ponder and chew

Utterances astounding

Secrets untold

Why do I keep them?

They taunt and they scold

Bowl full of questions

A thimble, a wish

A simple concoction

In a petri dish

To grow and to wither

To blossom and die

A brain full of missions

Keeps wondering why

These are the things

I carry ‘round with me all day

I can’t let ‘em go

They’re full of the stuff I say

I vase full of lonely

A briefcase of fear

Toolbox of letters

I hold so dear

Bucket of boasting

Wheelbarrow of shame

Dreams of beyond

Held in a satchel too tame

A harbor of bitterness

In my journal of regret

Baskets bestow love

A well so deep I forget

Box of old pictures

Tray of lost names

Clipboard of schedules

Voluminous games

These are the things

I carry ‘round with me all day

I can’t let ‘em go

They’re full of the stuff I say

My wineglass of joy

Is brimming with glee

My thermos of mocking

Regulates me

Barrel of pointless

Tankard of trash

Saltshakers compassion

A sprinkle, a dash

A salute to the teachers

A nod to the wise

I harvest and gather

The sunsetting skies

Cleverly doing

What I must do

To capture in vessels

These thoughts I issue

These are the things

I carry ‘round with me all day

I can’t let ‘em go

They’re full of the stuff I say

By Royce Waxenfelter

8/7/24

High

“What does he know about it anyway?” Sully thought to himself as he pondered the discussion he had a half-hour ago with his old man about the dangers of “hard drugs”.

The scene replayed in his head as he drove down the winding, poplar-lined road.

His dad had found ‘the Blue bullet’, Sully’s stubby, sapphire-colored aluminum pipe in the pocket of his jacket when he’d borrowed it from the coatrack to walk their dog Rinky earlier that morning.

“Oh, please! It’s just pot, dad! It’s not like I’m a junkie. It’s as harmless as a garter snake.”

“I’m not saying it’s crack cocaine,” his dad reasoned, “but it’s not you at your best. I love you enough to know when you’re missing your potential.”

“I feel like it helps me reach my potential, have you thought about that?” 

“How so?” his dad asked.

“It’s kind of like a key that opens up my creativity. It puts me in touch with my natural ability, takes away the push of society’s unfounded demands, brings me into focus on what should be, you know?”

His dad let out a sigh and responded, “That may be how it makes you feel, but the truth is, you are and always have been the most creative person I know. You don’t need to use any drugs to be you. You are amazing without them.”

“Sorry I turned out to be such a big disappointment to you!” Sully quipped. “You just don’t get it!”

Sully grabbed his jacket from his dad’s hand and stomped out the front door.

His blood boiled as he drove away. He was a little embarrassed, sure, but more so, incensed. The nerve of someone telling him who he should be! How he ought to live, to feel! Ugh! 

“Okay, relax man, take a breath, don’t let that old fool get to ya,” he thought to himself. “Take a toke and relax.”

With that notion, Sully pulled over next to a quiet nature park. He got out and found a secluded picnic table under a massive oak tree. He refilled ‘the blue bullet’ and lit up the fresh sticky bud, slowly taking in a big hit, holding it in his lungs. He closed his eyes and counted to twenty before exhaling. Sully gradually tilted his head back and soaked in the bright green of the backlit leaves. He imagined the colors washing away the anger, the embarrassment, the bitterness. 

“There, that’s more like it,” he thought. He tapped out the loose ash onto the picnic table, took in a big breath, and blew the tiny pile away, a symbol of life’s old restraints now a thing of the past. He smiled, relieved.

He sat a few minutes and made a plan for the day. He’d go into town to see if his buddy Tad would go with him to the beach for the day. He could use a non-judgmental friend today.

He got back in his car, turned on Pink Floyd’s ‘Pigs on the Wing’ and sang along as he drove into town.

Sully waited until he was parked to take another hit. He liked the way it made him feel. Not quite numb, just a slight tingle. Relaxed. Like the world slowed down by a millisecond. Slowed to the speed it should be. Sully’s speed. He liked the way his body felt a tad bit lighter, like he was on the verge of floating. It was a sprinkle of euphoria.

He took a satisfying deep breath and stepped out the door of his white, convertible Dodge Reliant K-car. Sully heard the horn of a truck… a millisecond too late.

by Royce Waxenfelter 

7/30/24

To Arkansas

Horse hair on barbed wire

Humid and dust

Traveling, my thoughts and I

Come move with us

Orange juice in the Frigidaire (TM)

 Mustard and crust

Traveling, to start the day

On a school bus

Cedar smell and fire flies

Burning the brush

Traveling, shot through the sky

Companion trust

Brahma cows and hominy

Scarring at dusk

Traveling, we'll scrape and peel

The tractor rust

Copperheads and corn bread

Tornado gust

Traveling, my thoughts are fed

While shucking husks

Traveling, my thoughts and I

Come move with us

Traveling, shot through the sky

Travel with us... to Arkansas.

by Royce Waxenfelter

9/30/91

The Voice of the Israelites

God heard the voice of the Israelites
And this is what they sang
They sang “Bring us back to the mother land
Away from this mud, straw and clay.”

I saw the daughter of pharaoh be a businesswoman 
She went down to the bank
Well she drew out a little prophet and
Delegated Miriam as her maid

I saw Moses grow up a conqueror 
He led armies to victory 
But deep down inside never satisfied 
His true people weren’t even free

When he watched an Israeli get beaten 
He took matters into his his own hands 
When he killed with bare hands the Egyptian
He knew there’d be no turning back

He ran far away to Midian 
Forty years in hiding
God appeared in a burning bush
To remind him of his true calling

God had heard the song of the Israelites
And this is what they sang
They sang “Bring us back to the mother land
Away from this mud, straw and clay.”

God sent Moses and Aaron to Pharaoh’s place
They bargained to free the slaves
But Pharaoh refused, he’d gotten used to
The monuments they made

Moses gave Pharaoh ten reasons
And said “let my people go.”
Pharaoh finally agreed but upon their release
Hardened his heart and said “no.”

He sent an army to chase them down 
With chariots and horses we’re told 
But God parted the sea for His people to flee
Then crashed the waves on the army who rode

After forty long years of wond’ring 
They crossed into the promised land
God had answered their song like He’s done all along

So sing to Him one and all
I hear the voice of the risen Israelites
With angels in great harmony
They sing “We’re no longer bound, God turned sin around,
Through Jesus: eternity!”

By Royce Waxenfelter 
5/11/24
To the tune of Saint James’ Infirmary

Reckless Breakfast

Extremely viral

Downward spiral

Cautionary tale

Glutton dairy fail

Very reckless

Bed and breakfast

Unheeded review

Slurped “surprise” stew

Hostess lacks her

Saltine crackers

Extended vacation

Unknown duration

Firsthand witness

Spreading sickness

This endeavor

Wish I never

 

By Royce Waxenfelter

3/21/24

Maui With You

Mahi Mahi with an ocean view

I get a smile when I look at you

We love the ocean and turtles too

I like to be in Maui… with you. 

Stroll down to the beach when the tide is low

Can’t escape the pull of the undertow

We watch surfers and a whale or two

I like to be in Maui… with you. 

And next time… yes next time…

We’re gonna do things different again

New adventures, where should we begin?

Maybe take trip south down Kehei way?

Will the water be as blue as Honolua Bay?

Miso Phat sushi on the balcony

Steady show of rainbows for you and me

Purple pancake breakfast and papaya too

I like to be in Maui… with you.

Do a little shopping at the ABC store

Kukui lotion and a whole lot more

The weather’s nearly perfect and the view is too

I like to be in Maui… with you.

And next time… yes next time…

We’re gonna do things different again

New adventures, where should we begin?

Take a snorkel tour to Molokini?

Or lay along the beach in Ka’anapali?

Best banana bread in the whole wide world

Freckles surfacing, your hair is curled

Just like the waves out in the ocean blue

I like to be in Maui… with you.

Duck into a lava cave at black sand beach

So far away right now, seems out of reach

But we’re going back again, you know it’s true

I like to be in Maui… with you.

By Royce Waxenfelter

1.02.24

Simple Plan For Livin'

Love mercy
Do justly
Walk humbly with your God
That’s what the Lord requires of you
 
Love mercy
Do justly
Walk humbly with your God
The key to livin’, you know it’s true
 
Love others
Be honest
Walk humbly with your God
That’s the best thing you could ever to do
 
Love others
Be honest
Walk humbly with your God
Blessings gonna come to you
 
Forgive wrongs
Give freely
Walk humbly with your God
You know this ain’t nothin’ new
 
Forgive wrongs
Give freely
Walk humbly with your God
Believe God’s Word, you know it’s true
 
by Royce Waxenfelter
12.11.23
Inspired by Micah 6:8 “He has shown you what is good and what the Lord requires of you: To do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.”

The Moss Gatherer

Oh, Great Oak, how thick is your bark?
Do you hum like a lyre, do you sing like a lark?
Is your goal to be wealthy or mighty in power?
Or purify the air hour after hour?

Reaching up, you guard from wind and rain
Perhaps that’s your mission, your clever game?
Or is it to paint the hillside with color?
To bring life to the helpless like a nurturing mother?

        The Great Oak stands still, doesn’t give a response
        The Great Oak exists among creatures and fronds
        The Great Oak is all you expect it to be
        The Great Oak gathers moss, the Great Oak you see

Oh, Great Oak, how dense is your core?
Do you hope to improve, strive to do more?
Is your mission to serve or be catered to?
To have news spread abroad of all that you do?

Rooted and grounded, sturdy and sound
Do you yearn to disrupt, to bore holes in the ground?
A hardened shell covers your fortified fruit 
Splendor measured in height, a bark robe your suit

        The Great Oak stands still, doesn’t give a response
        The Great Oak exists among creatures and fronds
        The Great Oak is nothing you expect it to be
        The Great Oak gathers moss, the Great Oak you see

By Royce Waxenfelter
12.08.23

Note: The Great Oak in the poem is an analogy for God. We can wonder all we want about God, or we can observe and study God. We can even deny God. No matter how we see God, God exists with or without our notions of God. God is everything we could possibly dream and nothing we can fully fathom this side of Heaven.

Caution (She's Gone)

Eyes be warned
You’re going to watch her go
Out of the warm, into the storm
Time to shade the sight away
 
Tears be warned
You’re going to slowly fall
Out of the glands, into empty hands
Time to issue a big box of tissue
 
Feet be warned
You’re going to take a hike
Out of her life, into strife
Time to reinforce your soul
 
Heart be warned
You’re going to explode
Catching the flak from the attack
Time to schedule surgery
 
Brain be warned
You’re going to disbelieve
Out of your mind, into the grind
Time to address what you repress
 
Bed be warned
You’re going to feel empty
Out of together into forever
Time to stay, never be made
 
Gut be warned
You’re going to get wrenched
No more satisfaction, wretch reaction
Time to regret and get upset
 
Hands be warned
You’re going to be wringing
Clenched in a ball, into the wall
Time to cling, oh wretched ring
 
Arms be warmed
You’re going to be lonely
Out of embracing, now just a-wasting
Time to let go of all you know
 
Lips be warned
You’re going to be drying
What was the finest is merely a minus
Time to be missing what you’ve been kissing
 
Ears be warned
You’re going to sound hollow
Out of sweet harmony into an enemy
Time to tune into an echo
 
By Royce Waxenfelter
11.28.23

Insert Apology

Stout walls surround me, to advice I’m not adhering
I’m still right here where you found me, but you long to forge ahead to greater things
 
I won’t grow or move or heed to any wisdom
That’s not who I am, not part of my kingdom
Now you won’t ever see me eye to eye
Because the walls of my heart are solidified
 
As stubborn as a mule, I’m not listening
As sure as the gloss on your lips is still glistening
It’d take all the king’s men and horses to budge me
So if you want it baby, here, insert apology
 
Stout walls surround me, to advice I’m not adhering
I’m still right here where you found me, but you long to forge ahead to greater things
 
A donkey makes a choice to stand his ground
I stomp and scream and get so mad my fists will pound
There’s a glorious prize waiting just beyond the hill
But I’d have to relinquish my pride, give up my persistent will

As broken as the vase I threw down on the floor
But I won’t cry when you decide you’re out the door
It won’t take long to get to know my depths, consider me
And if you want to baby, here, insert apology
 
It’s not part of my mindset or biology
So if you expect it baby, here, insert apology
 
By Royce Waxenfelter
11.28.23

Heaven Bound

My eyes have seen your face
Your face reveals the glory 

Your hands are full of grace
Your arms reach out to me

My sins have been erased 
My heart no longer mourns

I’m going to leave this place 
I can’t run fast enough

Beyond all time and space 
I’m coming home to you

By Royce Waxenfelter 
11/21/23

The Iron in Irony

Taking a stroll down to the village wrapped in a mystical fog

I trip and, from my muddy landing, see it was a log

My shoulder, is it out of joint? My lip bleeds a stream of pain

Should I be surprised the skies decide to open up and rain?

 

What a day it turned out to be, what a day to discover

What a time to learn I can’t trade it for another

What a fallacy to think of life so positively

As I grope about so blindly through this reality

 

The doctor is out, the assistant tells me it is just a sprain

So I race toward the station to try and catch my train

You may guess what I missed, indeed by mere seconds

The empty tracks symbolize my lifelong empty lessons

 

What a moment this time befell

As my sprained shoulder shrugs oh well

I give up and turn to frustrated apathy

Should I perhaps invite it in to abide permanently?

 

The walk home drizzly as I gnaw my leaking lip

The slight incline prods muscles to seize around my hip

Passersby splash mudpuddles upon my weary head

How I long to be at home in my cozy bed

 

What a dreadful normality, what a dreary day

What a shock for my arch nemesis to happen by and say,

“The train you missed, my dear chap, if you were to catch it,

I had planned in my benevolent way to finally bury the hatchet.”

 

Did he know my limp was at its worst

My shoulder’s drooping like a curse

An oasis I can see but not achieve

The promise of forgiveness taunting me

 

What a notion of perspective sight, what a mixed emotion

A mermaid floats nonchalantly by as I am drowning in the ocean

A full life, full of disappointing me

The blood in my mouth tastes bitter of the iron in irony

 

By Royce Waxenfelter

11.15.23

The Artist's Brush

I swirl and I dip and I come up to a point

I flip with a flourish and precisely square a joint

A dap and I dabble, I get shaky near the edge

I form boundaries out of nothing, a barrier, a hedge

I am the artist’s brush

I am here at His command

There are times he must cover over my previous mistakes

Where I’ve rushed out on my own or pushed against what he creates

Even though His hand is steady I can spring a random splatter

I’ve been greedy grabbing too much paint when He dips me in the platter

I cascade and pirouette, I sink a thickened line

I glisten or I dry up like fruit fallen from vine

I swoop and I tornado and I smooth back down again

I plant a tiny spot of brightness at the back of a dark den

I am the artist’s brush

I am here at His command

Whatever idea He might conceive

I trust His judgments, I believe

I will spread like watercolor or, if He decides, an oily grease

Knowing all the while I’m part of His great masterpiece!

By Royce Waxenfelter

10.30.23

That's Right

You probably think I’m crazy, just talking to the air

My prayers to you may seem something like despair

Well you don’t know the half of it, I’m desperate as can be

I’ll take every chance I get to secure eternity

That’s right, my God saves

That’s right, everyday

That’s right, my soul thrives

That’s right, Jesus is alive!

You probably wonder how I believe in such complete nonsense

You probably need to touch and feel in the current tense

Well I’m not bound by time or space or any other thing

My God’s bigger than all of that, that is why I sing

That’s right, my God saves

That’s right, everyday

That’s right, my soul thrives

That’s right, Jesus is alive!

You probably think Jesus sounds like an old zombie

That life from death sounds like something from a ghost story

It’s more than that, the turning point of all of history

Christ conquered sin and made the way to Heaven for you and me

That’s right, my God saves

That’s right, everyday

That’s right, my soul thrives

That’s right, Jesus is alive!

You’ve probably heard science proves Christians are not right

But science changes everyday so which theory is right?

My God is constant, never changing, Creator of all things

Until you can then I will choose to accept the love God brings

That’s right, my God saves

That’s right, everyday

That’s right, my soul thrives

That’s right, Jesus is alive!

You probably think that I’m no fun, bound by do’s and don’ts

But that’s not true I serve a God who’s forgiven all my loans

And there’s no place I’d rather be than to be free from all my sin

I choose abundant life, joy not strife, are you listenin’?

That’s right, my God saves

That’s right, everyday

That’s right, my soul thrives

That’s right, Jesus is alive!

You probably see Christians failing, giving God a bad reputation

Hypocrisy and broken promises at the heart of the Christian nation

You know it’s true, I will fail you, for I am just a sinner

But I’m forgiven and God’s turned me from loser into winner

That’s right, my God saves

That’s right, everyday

That’s right, my soul thrives

That’s right, Jesus is alive!

You may wonder why I choose to live in persecution

Why suffer ridicule in Jesus’ name? Is that the best solution?

All I know is what I’ve lived and I’ve experienced

A grace and peace, a lasting hope, assured deliverance!

That’s right, my God saves

That’s right, everyday

That’s right, my soul thrives

That’s right, Jesus is alive!

By Royce Waxenfelter

10.04.23

Creation Sensation

I look up at the stars and they whisper to me

“I bet you wish you could see what we see.”

I feel the river rushing over me

It says “With rhythm and ripple I do not congeal.”

The blackberry thorn digs into my skin

Tells me “Thorns are a byproduct of mankind’s sin.”

Ink from a squid fills up my pen

It writes “Wonder and wandering are lessons of wind.”

 

Can you taste the elation of a fresh fig explosion

Echo joy abounding without erosion?

Everything you see has a message for you

Do you watch intently to reveal creation’s truth?

 

The face of a cliff looms tall up ahead

Says “Wisdom and knowledge are far from dead.”

The gems in the earth hide glory and call

“Dig deep to reveal a wonderous haul.”

The snow falling gently like dogwood’s in bloom

Sings “My shapes, they all vary, like sands on a dune.”

I trip on a rock jutting out of the ground

“My exterior is jagged like your feelings.” Profound.

 

Can you hear repetition in waves of the ocean?

The drumming, the pounding, the timeless emotion?

Everything you feel has a message for you

Do you absorb intently creation’s truth?

 

Shrimp ‘neath the water go clickety clack

The precursory sound of a train on a track

Does the energy shrimp use to rub legs together

Match the upward thrust of a Peregrines’ feather?

If so, one is silent and the other is loud

Is there a lesson, can we sound it all out?

Can we communicate utterances to all living things?

Whistle calls of hello as the songbird sings?

 

I will ask the Creator, only He knows

The language of all, as to all He bestows.

Everything you hear has a message for you

Do you listen intently to hear the Creator’s truth?

 

By Royce Waxenfelter

9/19/23

Tracks

I took a train

And watched along the way

The trees they ran

Past this stationary man

Hadn’t gone far

A sandwich in the dining car

Wanted to stay

To absorb the sway

A quick nap

A quicker game of cards

Because I can

No traffic jam

Thousands of pounds moving

The same direction. Facts.

Perpetual are the stories gained

Like a hobo on the tracks

Enter a mountain

Plunge out of the light

This deep dark tunnel

Echoes ancient dynamite

Consider the design

The slow curving line

Timber and iron 

Connect cities and mines

Billionaires made

Resources shared

Advancement of culture 

The cost of lives not spared 

Jobs and pollution remain

Dichotomy attacks

Perpetual are the stories gained

On these vagabond tracks

By Royce Waxenfelter 

3/18/23