The Tie That Binds

There is a tie that binds;
An evolutionary thread
Spun at the onset
Of love.
Woven as the spider
Weaves and interlaces
Her web, it grows and
Strengthens to
Survive the onslaught
Of the unknown and
The venomous
Lurking dangerous and silent in the
Shadows of our lives.

This tie, sometimes bent but
Never broken, stands as a
Steely strand
Between us
Until the end of our
Allotted time
In this world
Binding love with
Passion and trust,
Growing stronger with the
Dawn that glows
With the promise of a
A new day.


© 1989, 2006, 2009 by Jacob Anson. Image © 2009 by Jacob Anson and its licensors. All rights reserved.

Where does the weather come from?

Nobody understands the
Weather like the
Weather people do.
And they don't
Understand it ... at all!

Whether we like it or not
Weather is always
Going to change and
Become colder or warmer
Or stay the same.

Precipitation is quite
Possible when
Weather is around.
Rain and snow and sleet
All fall on the ground.

Summer brings hurricanes
Furious disasters -
True catastrophes.
Could it be they're caused
By pundit's prophecies?

Maybe it's the weather people
Who cause the changes
And the weather patterns, too.
By praying especially hard
To, well, you know who.

Because the really scary question
Is what would weather
People do
If there was no weather
For weather folks to do?

© 2006 & 2009 by Jacob Anson. Image copyright by Jacob Anson and its licensors.
All rights reserved.

The Fault of the Feet (Shuffling the blame)

Sometimes you go where
You should not
Places that are
Much too hot
Places where you
Quickly learn
How easily
You can get burned.

Other times you
Just can't go
Where you want to go
And even though
You shift to low
Step on the gas
You spin your wheels
Go nowhere fast!

The feet, you see
Go where they wish
Hither, yon
At times amiss
All you can do
Is tag along
To where they take you
Right or wrong.

So please don't beat
Upon yourself
Don't put your dreams
Up on a shelf
Just continue
To repeat
It's all the fault
Of my darn feet!

© 2006 and 2009 by Jacob Anson. Image copyright by its licensors. All rights reserved.

She never looked before

She'd walked the old familiar path
A hundred times or more
Now she trudges mindlessly
Tunes out the ocean's roar
She walks into a tussling wind
That blows and shreds her hair
But doesn't touch, cannot reach
A heart that isn't there.

She finally got the answers
To questions long delayed
If she could only take them back
For she has been betrayed
From future bright and hopeful
To clarity achieved
From life not tried or tasted
To bitter truth received.

Today she walks the path again
And breathes the cool sea air
She sees the trees that hem her in
Bleached sentries standing there
She sees a turtle on a log
The churning water foam
She sees the skittish little fish
The gator turned to stone.

She feels the spray upon her face
A salty pleasant sting
And looking up an eagle soars
A heron takes to wing
Never has she seen all this
She turns to face the shore
Amazed at gifts she'd somehow missed
She never looked before.


Copyright © by Jacob Anson 2006 & 2009. All rights reserved.

Handling things weekly

(This poem is dedicated to all my friends still working 9 to 5)

Friday comes and
Friday goes and
Friday comes
Again.
Days are mere
Commodities
That I too freely
Spend.

Monday dawns
I failed to do
The weekend things
I'd planned.
The other days
Just fly on by
And Friday's here
Again.

Life rushes past
Much too fast
It's really quite
A pain.
'Cause ev'ry time
I look around
Friday's back
Again!

That's okay
I'll handle it
I'll welcome Friday
Back.
I'll call in sick
And crawl my way
Right back into
The sack!

(Copyright © 2006 & 2009 by Jacob Anson. Image © 2009 by its licensor. All rights reserved.)

Life at its best

Life at its best
sometimes consists
of nothing more
than a quiet place -
a cafe, perhaps
where talk is soft
and dreams are woven
in whispered glances
and fingered dances
on tinkly glasses
with lingering looks
and longing sighs
quickly hushed
as chiffoned waitress
shushes by.


Copyright © 2006 & 2009 by Jacob Anson. Image copyright © 2009 by its licensors. All rights reserved.

The Camera

The sky, the sun
The moon at night.
Mountains, seas,
Birds in flight.
Prairies vast
And city lights.
Decaying barns
Out of sight.

Cathedrals reach up
To the sky
As if they could
The gods appease.
While structures tall,
Broken, small
Sink deep into
The urban sleaze.

Aqueducts
And ancient halls
Stand sodden
Beside Roman walls.
Rivers, canyons,
Waterfalls.
Flora, fauna
All enthrall.

Children garbed
In innocence
Play midst tempting
Decadence.
Men and women
Trod the streets
Harried, happy
Incomplete.

The beautiful,
Sordid and sublime
Cohere in fact
And in the mind.
Still...struck by
Our own chimera
We capture life with
The camera.

Copyright © 2009 by Jacob Anson. All rights reserved. Image by Hemera Technologies.