That Old Bucket List

Music either is part of your life or not

notes and words mingled

singled out in a mixture capturing

the ancient instinct

the metronome calling for clarity.

It is that "bucket list"

another thing in which to stress over

lost is the dreams and thoughts

that fleetingly flutter

then return from whence they came.

You never get to the end

the paper begs the pen

what do you want in the little time

that is on your expiration

what is it you want.

So many dreams are impossible

financially limited

with time never on your side

distance eating away at the belief

that there's always tomorrow.

Most who know my heart

that beats rhythmically

that is marked with a song

that can retrieve a stored memory

heartbreaking or not.

An optimist I believe

life will find the path of rightfulness

but the times of pain

the times in which I promptly lock away

magnified by song.

Memories are for the making

fulfilling the bucket list

should be driven by the heart and soul

carnal needs are part of your journey

clues to your life.

Elton John

was he on my bucket list

did I strive to see him life in concert

the opportunity arose so suddenly

so see him I did.

A memory to tuck away

a pleasure that became so very apparent

as I watched his face

to love your life to love your world

is priceless.

The bucket list

isn't written by our hand or mind

the bucket list exists like a mindful monk

the lesson elusively hidden

an anima.

Open your instincts

become the tiger deep in the reeds

today the hunter of the questionable answers

tomorrow a memory

live life

with the knowledge that

you will soon be a forgotten memory.

barb

ps...Elton John was great.

Face to Face

Coming face to face

time stopped literally in place

the sun continued to shine without notice

the happy birds

watched unknowingly as I

came face to face

with the fleeing burglar.

His expression froze

taking in my presence in the path

of his escape

weighing with complete care

the necessity and the possibility

that I was a threat

to his freedom to enjoy the day.

Seconds dragged beyond

the possibility that days or minutes

or even years did not

pass by in that space of time

fear did not have a seat

at the table of this meeting

while curiosity took the microphone.

Not a word was uttered

not a single thing was said

but the acknowledgement of the moment

the burglar and me

quietly weighed all options

as he fled by me

soundless and in a hurry.

Over the wall

one hand on it as he hurtled it with ease

landing with a hard thump

leaving deep footprints in the dirt

before he sprinted

to the taller wall leading to freedom

from his ill-gotten plan

to gain entry.

Young and fit

he ran as though the devil

was laughing in his left ear

telling him his tattoos were ill-advised

for the doorbell

captured him in such clarity

alerting the owners of his evil plans

to destroy and steal.

A crime of convenience

a need to obtain that he doesn't own

money for another day

facing the wrong end of a bullet

is swept out of his consciousness even though

it is a real possibility

we stood face to face

quietly the burglar and me.

The alarm was turned on

the house was eerily quite empty

the bars on the windows assaulted for entry

glass covered the ground

broken shards of anger and pain

video notifications

and yet not enough to stop.

Face to face

a young man risking all in the world

to take what isn't his

to destroy the peace and security

every day of every week

breaching the quiet afternoons

a wanted man

who will one day face death

as quietly as he did me.

barb