I Stubbed My Toe
Within the conquest I pursue,
along the thoroughfare of Life.
At times, have arisen occasion,
against obstacles, I stubbed my toe.
These hurdles, oft' I thought,
cross my path with pupose placed.
To alert and expose these pitfalls to me.
In my Master, my faith prevailed.
When loudly, oft' I would complain.
For all, to know my pain.
Or in silent prayer petition.
From outstretched Hand, grant me strength.
The tenacity I lack...instill.
to overcome the anguish from pain,
which visits, tempting me to stray.
Heal my affliction, grant I complete my quest.
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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Imagination's Field
Within its bounds, naked canvas stretched.
Before the display, the lad stood.
Adorning the wall, ornate frame hangs.
In concentration, young man observes the void.
Forced by curiosity's command.
for the source of his deliberation.
I searched sans satisfaction,
In despair, I queried the youth.
“Sir, within empty frame you survey,
what do you perceive? ”
Without addressing me, responded.
“I see tall mountains, endless restless seas.”
“I see naught, for this frame's canvas is empty.
How might you see these sights? ”
He turned, facing me and remarked.
“Sir, within the frame, a great deal I see”
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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Storm
The sea from its shore,
shows me white crested chop.
The sky above, an angry ceiling,
of dark rolling turbulence.
Broadcasting, tumultuous ferocity,
punctuated with bolts, of white hot energy.
Invisible winds swirl, harassing the sea,
restless swell infuriated, to wrathful wave.
What nemesis, goaded Lords of the deep,
to churn emerald waters, to thrashing fury?
Waves, whipped to gigantic infuriated breakers,
to pummel relentlessly, unprotected shores.
How long, before rogue winds subside?
This tantrum pacified, wildness calms?
When may the mariner, safely unfurl sail?
To seek the favor of calm following seas?
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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Winter's Night
Like so many diamonds
sparkling in the night.
A new fallen snow glistens.
In the winter moon's cold light.
A high steppin' steed
its clip clop rhythm
with harness bells jingling.
Adds musical charm.
To a romantic ride
through the moonlit night.
As it pulls the sleigh
across a carpet of white.
Nestled beneath a blanket warm
watching the icy panorama unfold.
In the air your breath a cloud
hangs suspended in the cold.
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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Homeward Bound
In predawn darkness, gangway cleared.
All lines cast off, anchor’s aweigh.
Bow turned toward beckoning, open sea.
We proclaim at last, homeward bound.
A rising sun, o’er shadowed peaks.
Touches and warms our stern.
Following winds, caress gently,
then fill canvas, slack to taut.
Our final port, fades to mist.
No longer, elusive horizon we chase.
In search of adventure beyond.
Thoughts n’ dreams, to yon’ homeport turn.
Wanderlust, satisfied at last.
Now we pine, for sunny meade.
The essence of fresh pine break.
Of comforting, home fires burning.
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poem by Kurt Hearth
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The Other Heros
They march not to drummer's beat
neither rise to trumpet's call.
They pass not through ticker tape cloud.
Nor thrill to cheering throng.
They sail not on mighty ships
to do battle on foreign shore.
They are not lauded or praised
by liberated grateful peoples.
They return not with victorious song.
To be welcomed with outstretched arms.
Warriors always in the forefront of conflict
Subjected often by ridicule and criticised by most.
Facing conquest daily their battles never end.
Supported not by mighty force engage confrontation alone.
Acknowledged seldom by cheering crowds.
Only by their peers for conflicts they resolve.
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poem by Kurt Hearth
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The Vision
From its station
with great span
of wings outspread.
I watched the eagle.
Yet saw not
that monarch of the blue.
Instead a vision
so profound unfold.
Radiating from behind
a shimmering glow.
Golden silvery light
poured forth.
From within emerged
a figure in brilliant white.
Still the two
remained as one.
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Tempest's Fury
Tempest's Fury
'Long the horizon, I watched it form.
Harbinger, of deeds foul.
Blue sky, smiling sun obscured.
By nimbus rack, rolling dark.
Trees of the brake, as if sensing squall.
Their leaves turned askew.
'Cross my body,
puffs of breeze caressed.
Not long at all,
zephyr's whisper grew to gale's howl.
Nature's warning issued, duly I noted.
In haste, stout shelter I sought.
From safe haven I watched,
and harkened to, gust's angry pant.
As if wild beast enraged,
tossed whatever loose awry.
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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Warrior's Wall
At the forefront,
of the grassy mead, my post.
Sentry to the residents, resting,
inscribed upon my field.
I am the Warrior’s Wall.
Imposing, polished granite.
Tribute, to the heroes’ names I bear.
With no sound, at attention I stand.
Heroes, who returned, not in parade’s ranks.
But, borne by troop stepping out in silence.
Silence cultivated, by bonds of respect.
Heroes, their names etched upon my face.
From every walk of life,
no matter station or status.
Visitors, comrades, as well the curious.
Before me, all become humbly reverent.
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poem by Kurt Hearth
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Life Within the Brake
Veiled in mist, away from eyes prying.
In the bosom of mounts 'n' peaks.
Dwelling deep within the brake.
Lone monastery stands in shadow.
In silent prayer or chant, holy order.
Opted to devote their lives,
claiming wholly an existence.
To their Omnipotent deity.
Safely in their abode, though spartan.
Nestled far from tempest's grasp.
The silence there golden, serene.
At times becoming loud, this level of quiet.
Yet, as moth drawn to flame,
mariner to siren's song.
Those seeking answers.
Curious visitors are lured.
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poem by Kurt Hearth
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