A poem dedicated to Lisa J. Lehmann

Traveled Vision

Laughing, dreaming fun waits out the door
Intense yearning tugs the gifts of a single heart.
Subtle will exerts its toll upon a supple floor.
Autumns trudge heavily toward the distant start.

Judged jugs justify freely scorned of one just.
Labyrinthine loathing burst upon scenes of trust.
Enduring energy enfolds rugs toward the sound
Hiding closely budged near nestling found

Moments rein the feats of nervous walls.
Around a traveled vision stands goals quiet ground.
Nothing calls to trumpets glorious guiled sound,
Neatly rested over poised wooden stalls.

Robert Dodson
April 26, 2009

A poem dedicated to Lilane Rausch

Maverick Times

Learned events trouble past enjoyment of timely days
Irrigating senses offer solution of majestic beauty.
Leaping upward cleanses souls to sounds for due sea.
Increased abundance stowed for needed phase.

A breeze gently flowing across cheeks tanned
Needing nothing sustains maverick times once banned
Each cloud hold promise of rare moisture seldom dammed
Revealing heat takes upon shoulders seeking rest on the land.

Asking relief need never be spoken to ears unwilling for sound
Useful tears moisten lips never kissed the ground
Solid visions of dreams held last life’s ragged breath
Chosen dreams seek solitude of each day’s death
Held in place by annual reins forever bound.

Robert Dodson
April 25, 2009

Strangely, I have no dedication for this poem. Go Figure.

Smallness Within

Gaze upon the majesty enclosed in the heart
Releases passion for a beginning again.
Days of future seem a distant part,
Pieces hanging loosely in a gentle rain.

Sensing a path once taken thunders soft
Tense muscles need a strain of safety
Looking backward righting my insensitivity
Spooked into a smallness within my loft.

Phased in moments, singly spaced frees life
Dense in spaced, wide valleys of new hope
Going far to be near eases the strife
So long as I never, slip on the soap.

Robert Dodson
September 23, 2007

This poem was written for my wife Faye. We were married on her birthday, April 23, 1985.

Through Misty Forest

Alone walking through misty forest,
Groping to jerk tears from my eyes
An arduous duty calms wisdom’s test
Tying trails to hearts’ talking of far skies.

Hearing victory excites dull tries
As air embraces me among all fires
Facing challenge is my behest
As one debates full charged chest,

Youthful yearning for bravery dear
Energy drains as Sol dips to low sky
Donning thickly skinned events fly
Over often pondering learned final fear.

Dreams of future haunt my soul
Saying nothing is not the crest
Over which I journey toward rest
Neat nesting leaves life a filled bowl.

Robert Dodson
January 14, 2007

This poem was written for Ron Jenkins

Nothing Chanced

Raising voices of trusted safety
Opened my mind to glaring holes
Noted once, then used as souls
Justice opened a raked bee.

Enhanced by age volume peaked
Nesting on past deeds, acts freaked
Kites billowed lazily in spring clouds
Insects crested my tiny soles aloud.

Nothing chanced a dream is lost
Scorning is my hesitant cost
Rising above a small vacant lot
Jerking free I become the moth.

Robert Dodson
March 12, 2007