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Author Biography
Poetry By
  M. Blake

Published on: 8/6/2010
And Now Playing

In the wink of a song the world changes,
An impressive shift, the ingredients shaken.
You move without thought to direction
For there is no guidance in this moment
The new version of you blossoms in.

Published on: 8/6/2010
The Road, Again

When it calls, your time here is short.
Already you see yourself striding
See the miles eaten on long summer days
See your smile easily summoned
In the sweat of the new adventure,
The unexpected pulling the old tramp along.

Bring your adolescent form along, old boy,
Your personal jukebox sustaining the spirit.
Far from done and you'll let them know it
Rambling along at your own steady pace,
Leaving the agendas for the ambitious
(This a way of life, not a race).

It could be a big truck rolling or a racing bike,
Or a spring green rolling expanse of hills
Prompting him to push it on beyond
To what fate deals him for the next hand,
On to that next "welcome" sign
The next park or lake that beckons,
The next piece of ground to rest on.

He's going to get there, despite no help from the law
(It's best to avoid ol' Buford T. Justice).
He'll keep smiling, walking and thumbing,
The miles left behind with the farewells from drivers,
The boundaries crossed and the landscape changing
And thoughts there and gone like passing traffic.

It wasn't the destination that called to him,
That lured him like some siren, deceptive
(He'd learned that lesson long ago),
It was the going itself, the living in the moment,
Losing the mind clutter that had brought him to a halt.

A matter of survival, he firmly believed.
Like blood or appetites, a part of him
He'll never be without - the desire to go,
Shedding the all too familiar like old clothes,
Seeking a new feast for the senses.

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