Larry Kilham Blog |
 These poems bring us hope during troubled times through our connection with nature. Chapters include poems on dreams, understanding ourselves, nature, robots and us, and living in the time of covid. There is also a special chapter of legends told by poetic verse.
"Dreams" is the opening poem: From your pillow through your window you travel to your land of dreams. Its special places only you know - their vistas bathed in sunny gleams. Flowers carpet the valley, birds chirp from the trees. From them you absorb energy while you float in the breeze. Now put structure in your vision to give your life new meaning, and you can do with what you’re given with a joyous and prideful feeling. (c) 2021 Larry Kilham  The rabbit sits in frozen awe
its button eyes fixed on me its long ears pointed skyward to catch what it cannot see. A sprig of grass hangs from its chin or could it be my shredded flowers? The furry creature starts to move to the garden he thinks is ours. I grimace and whistle and the rabbit scampers. May peace endure but I fear more capers. (c) 2021 Larry Kilham I gazed upon a crisp night sky
like the shepherds of old. They saw creatures there and gods and heroes bold. “Hallelujah!” was hope they held for angels to answer their call but today we only see satellites orbiting over all. I hear there’s twinkling hope in planets light-years away. Intelligent life may lurk beyond, but what have we to say? Our support forever is Mother Earth. We are her children, not her master. We must share with all her creatures and there will be harmony forever. © 2021 Larry Kilham  I have just published an exciting biography "Destiny Strikes Twice: James L. Breese Aviator and Inventor:"
Pioneer aviator James L. Breese was on the first transatlantic flight and then developed 130 patents for oil heating. Dismissing his family’s high society Long Island life, Jim moved to Santa Fe, New Mexico in 1929 to start fresh and build a multimillion dollar oil burner business. His marriages, however, presented difficult challenges. The twists and turns through his adventure-packed life reveal lessons for everyone including many insights for aspiring inventors and entrepreneurs. Available on Amazon.  Hummingbird, hummingbird,
floating on invisible wings, darting here and there, while the whole garden sings. How do your tiny little eyes find the perfect blossom? You always do and I think you’re awesome! You hover in flight and look me in the eye. Our souls join momentarily and I follow you to the sky. (c) 2020 Larry Kilham  The big old house sits atop yonder hill guarding its history from curious eyes. They say it's full of spirits all claiming important family ties. A stranger approached through the mist with curiosity nudging him to the door. He knocked and knocked to no avail while the wind whistled “Nevermore!” Finally he found a basement door unlocked but covered with vines. The stranger gave it a mighty push and collapsed among racks of wines. He brushed off cobwebs and dust and the bottles set him to think: “A rich family settled here once at least two centuries past. They nonstop partied and drank because the future seemed so vast.” Some force pulled him upstairs to the kitchen strangely still No food or wine waited on silver trays nor a butler to sense his will. But “Listen,” a voice seemed to say, “Go to the library down the hall and look for a squire by the fire and he should tell you all.” The stranger looked all around but no squire was to be found only august gentlemen and ladies watching from portraits all around. Neatly shelved were hundreds of books probably none read but also no TV. He admired furniture, china and bric-a-brac standing ready for the next society tea. Then a voice from somewhere said: “This old house sits on a historic hill guarding its history from curious eyes and I, the squire, am its guardian spirit but you took me by surprise.” “You must talk to my daughter who resides on the uppermost floor I will call and introduce you while you go to knock at her door.” The stranger thought this a little odd that he was not questioned and trusted so but he was bound to follow the path to whomever and wherever it might go. He went up several floors of creaky stairs until he arrived at the third floor. He passed by musty rooms with ancient beds until he came to a promising door. The stranger knocked ever so gently and the door squeaked and opened ajar. A sweet voice, barely a whisper, said “Please come in, whoever you are.” The stranger entered and took a seat but no one could he see. “I am here to find sweet Betsy and who might you be?” “I am Betsy, the last of this family line, and my husband was lost at sea; but you have a voice like his so might you perchance be he?” “I am indeed your husband David! After a terrible storm, wreck, and amnesia, I was destined to forever roam. I only knew by notes and letters how to find my way back home.” “David, my love, we should embrace but I am but a pitiful ghost. Every day from the Widow’s Walk above I scanned the sea for you, my dearest.” “After days and weeks and months, of grief and hunger I did die but please be welcome in our home and someday we’ll unite in the sky.” “Let me say these final words: Everything you love will be lost but all will return another way and our stars no longer will be crossed.” The big old house sits atop yonder hill guarding its history from curious eyes. But now we know it will live again with Betsy’s and David’s ties. (c) 2020 Larry Kilham PART OF MY POETRY COLLECTION IN "DIRT ROAD POEMS" AVAILABLE ON AMAZON. CLICK ON THE LINK BELOW  I awoke to the early birds singing
and to the morning glory’s petals opening to a stillness before the business storm for a glorious moment tranquility was the norm. Then The Cloud floated down and settled in town after town. and suddenly we were on the slippery slope grabbing for lost and elusive hope. Power and money and things lost meaning and dozens of oligarchs are fleeing while millions of hapless ones writhe in despair and waves of false promises electronically fill the air. Yet the early birds still are singing and the morning glory’s petals are opening and hope is rekindling a new search for meaning which will lead us to the promised land of yesteryear. (c) 2020 Larry Kilham Many winters have passed
but this was the worst. After the snow melted we found the lurking curse. There was a weird silence as the wayward spirit floated down. Microbes and crazy ideas spread from town to town. We used to know where we were going and now our view is often blocked. Real inventions and adventures are fading because our welcoming doors are locked. We have lost sight of meaning – something important for us all. Meaning would give us purpose when sacrifice does us call. After winter comes spring when we’ll see what fresh meaning and new ideas can bring. (c) 2020 Larry Kilham Someone on Instagram sent me this picture of my bilingual book about my adventures in Nicaragua in the 1960s. It is in a book store in Antigua, Guatemala along with some good company like Pablo Naruda and Ruben Dario. My book is in the lower left of the picture. Incidentally, it's also available on Amazon. Best of health to all!  We lie in the ICUs breathing through tubes
which the dinosaurs didn't have as they lay dying in the frigid blackness of the meteor extinction. (c) 2020 Larry Kilham |