 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 wind blew gently
through the whispering pines towering above. The pasture grass smelled sweet, and there were the rasps of the locusts and the calls of the meadowlarks and bees were darting in and out of blossoms. I was dozing in the warm sun against my horse, Gramps, who was also dozing, and snuggled against both of us was my dog, Axel. I was a contented part of the natural universe and so were all the creatures there. That was seven decades ago. Today, if I were a young man, I would wake up and reach for my smartphone. My world would be the digital metaverse and Nature would be an afterthought and, at best, a source of food and natural resources. My new snuggly friend could be a cute robot who placed minimal demands on anything or anybody. The meadowlarks long since have disappeared. And the bees? They’re disappearing, too. © 2021 Larry Kilham He was known as “El Gato,” the cat who lived nine lives. He was sheriff Elfego Baca whose legend today survives. When Elfego was but a teen his lawman father was attacked. He shot two in the unruly mob but was convicted contrary to fact. Elfego sprang his dad from jail and spirited him out of state “I will fight for truth!” he said, “even if death will be my fate.” Then he heard in tiny Frisco cowboys were shooting up the bar – the deputy even tossed his star. Elfego said, “This is going too far!” He declared himself a deputy and arrested a drunken carouser then missed a man but shot his horse whose fall killed its rider. Fifty cowboys howled revenge as they crouched behind a wall by the people’s church while Elfego into a cabin crawled. Bullets to the left of him bullets to the right of him how they splintered and whined! His pistol got hotter and hotter as many more shots he made but still he kept on firing even as hope began to fade. But El Gato had yet more lives. The cabin’s sunken floor put him below the volleys – They say 4,000 rounds or more. On the second day of shooting a lawman rode into view. “I’m taking you to Socorro where they’ll try to hang you.” The jury saw the splintered wood that once was the cabin door. They awarded Elfego another life and he was a people’s hero once more. © 2021 Larry Kilham Author’s notes: There are various versions of this story. It takes place when Elfego Baca (1865-1945) lived in Socorro in central New Mexico. Frisco, scene of the great shootout, was 130 miles to the west and is now named Reserve. This story takes place over 1883-1884. After the battle of Frisco, Baca became a U.S. Marshal and later practiced law in New Mexico and Texas. He was also active in politics and ran unsuccessfully for Congress.
 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 It is the best of times.
It is the worst of times. Mankind is the great creator. Mankind is the great destroyer. Life is an adventure and we’re losing our way. Our eyes are dimmed and the digital torrent flows all day. But look! There’s a sylvan land. What life has settled there? I hear no sounds from here. There must be flowers and birds and certainly nothing to fear. Now I see creatures in the shade as robots amble through the glade. We humans will join the fun - humans, creatures, robots all as one. We will devise new creations and foster new civilizations. No need to colonize space - There will be magic here for the whole human race. © 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  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 Who’s that rider crossing the plain his horse kicking up a cloud of dust? He seeks to knock on fortune’s door - this rider will do what he must. There is a lonely cabin on the plain where he thinks his lady waits She’s called Louisa May and is known to tempt the fates. Knock, knock he goes, “Open up or I’ll shoot out the lock.” The rider breaks in and stomps around but finds only a turquoise rock. What happened to his lady fair? He searches for the slightest trace and listens for her beckoning voice but there’s no sign of her pretty face. The rider looks in the stable and finds a horse munching hay It’s saddled and ready to ride but there is no mistress May. The horse must have bolted to the barn as horses like to do. So the rider mounts the horse and, on a whim, lets the pawing, snorting steed run where it suits him. The horse stops in a rocky gulch where a lady lies shovel in hand. She lays silent and dying waiting for her man. “Oh, my precious Louisa May! Why are you here alone? We should have worked together finding turquoise stone by stone!” He brings her to a cooling stream with barely moments to spare. She struggles and recovers under the rider’s loving care. At last she says: “Turquoise and copper lie together much like you and me. When we mine these riches together we shall be.” “Look for bright green stone in the cliff by the snaggly pine. It will process to the very best copper and there we will build our mine.” From this small beginning they build a regal mansion and furnish it with furniture and art and china of all the latest fashion. One day there’s a knock on the door and they admit an elegant stranger with silk suit and gold watch chain, cane, and ten-gallon hat. “I’m here to save y’all from a real and present danger.” “The railroad’s coming through and they’re fixin’ to take your house. It’s for their ruthless boss known as Big Tony the Louse.” “Let me buy your house and mine right now for gold or cash. I’ll deal with the railroad folks and you’ll be gone in a flash.” This story lives on as legend about this lucky and loving pair living here and there and everywhere - seems they vanished into thin air. But I saw the rider and Louisa May just the other day snuggling under the snaggly pine. I swear I could hear them making plans for a great new mine. (c) 2020 Larry Kilham 
The big old house sits atop yonder hill guarding its history from curious eyes. They say its 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 Far, far away in the stellar night
we see mysterious clouds of galactic light. These distant fires warm our tired brains and help our dreams escape their earthly chains. Many have minds that crave to fly free but are caught in the grip of eternity they’re always rolling stones uphill killing their hopes for glorious free will. It’s time to let a million flowers bloom to give joy and dispel the chilling gloom! When there’s an end to exploitation and strife everyone can focus on a better life. (c) 2020 Larry Kilham |
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