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I'm wandering a lot lately in my life

What thus it take to find a wife ?

Why is a man like me perhaps

Honest and humble and sincere by hart

Who wants to love and to be loved

Misunderstood in daily life

Every time work or job comes up

The ladies think that I'm a bum

Maybe I am or maybe I'm not

Maybe your destiny is to love a bum ?

So give it a chance what's there to loose ?

Don't cha wanna man who needs a wife ?

...but a wife neverless who's not a bum.

you’re the first thing i think of each morning when i rise

and you're the last thing i think of when i close my eyes

you’re in each thought i have

and every breath I take

bringing you in my life was the best choice I got to make

you’re the angel from above

who can take away my pain

my love for you is so strong

and it will never change

I know it’s selfish to want you back

because you are in heaven

and at peace at last

you are everything I wanted

you’re so pure and true

I love you with everything I have

and I know you love me too

so now it’s time to go

for you are in the sky

but I want you to know

I Love You

and Baby, Goodbye

After dark months of winter,

Spring came at last.

As I walk, I hear something

In the bright blue sky.

There they are!

First geese of spring.

Tired but happy.

Cackling as if greeting the

earth.

She is the essence of good

She’s the little girl in the neighborhood

She is the reason we get up

On the weekends

She is like her Mom, beautiful, smart

A little like me, takes chances

When she can, so we cringe

“Get down from there”

“Stop”

When she gets mad you can tell

Lets out a tear prior to the yell

She’s the reason we wake up

In the middle of the night

She likes her grandma, fun, playful

Remembers her Nana

Mostly by pictures

“Nana, Papa, Bri-Bri, Nee-nee”

“Uncle Ben”

“ Baby Landen “

She say’s them so well

Words

We get so proud and wonder some times

Why so many kid's

Hearts get broke, parents in jail

How?

She gives life love and happiness

She is Parker Dawn Stephenson

So you want to be free

do as you please

be happy with yourself

get rid of your disease

there are obstacles

are you strong enough

do you have doubts

the odds are against you

will your time run out

some people think they are ready

They vow never to use again

you’re setting yourself up for failure

you can’t help but give in

The force is so strong

it’s overpowering your every thought

everything you worked for

everything has dropped

So ask yourself again

is this really what i want

Don’t try and trick yourself

You’ll lose the battle that’s already been fought

But don’t get me wrong

There’s hope for those who want it

there’s a light, there’s greener grass

But there are bumps on this trip

If you’re ready, come and join me

to change your world

get rid of your disease

clear your mind

it’s time to step out of the

shade under those trees

Prepare to cry, Prepare to love

Prepare to hurt, Prepare to forgive

there is no more burden

to carry on your back

Let it go, Let God take over

and end that last act

It’s time to surrender

let down the wall

you’re going to trip

Let us catch you when you fall

Diligently she prepare the moosehide slippers

in preparation for her sister’s burial

Reflecting on memories of them playing as children

in the tall grass along the Yukon River

The presence of angels are near, waiting upon word to carry her home

Mixed with the sterile smell of the hospital, attendants bustling about

trying in vain to comfort her

Nearby are her grandchildren pacified by hours of television

Too young to understand grandmother must go

Left on her head are only patches of her once beautiful black hair

Her legacy left behind in the twinkling of her children’s eyes

With her, she carries one less tongue that speaks our traditional

language

Strong hands that prepared intricate beadwork

“Do it this way daughter” her mother taught her

“Cut the fish like this, you must work hard to survive”

Dear Lord why do our people pass away from cancer? I pray

Lord, give them eternal land that will never be sold from underneath

them

Rest with peace my beautiful friend, knowing your mother taught you

well

Soon you will be restored to your heavenly body

And until I see you again, it is then you can teach me what you know

While we run along the banks of the Yukon River

It’s hard when nothing turns up in the mail

and the telephone is silent — oh so sad.

Please know that I will love you without fail

as the mother of the kids we never had.

My eight kids and your four kids make a dozen

so you’d think that they’d be beating down the door.

You’re more likely to get kudos from your cousin

and one or two of ours but nothing more.

The many times you hungered for my baby

reveal the longing kept so deep inside

Thinking that if things were different, maybe

you could have the joy that’s so far been denied.

Because we’re better parents now than ever

and because he’d have the best of both our genes,

it’s easy to imagine that he’d never

fail to love and honor you clear through his teens.

And he’d grow up strong, emotionally healthy

and take a wife and have a good career

and help you in your old age ’cause he’s wealthy

and teach his kids to love and hold you dear.

Alas, it can’t be so, at least in this life

but you really tried your best and that’s not bad.

Each year in May I’ll honor you, my good wife,

as the mother of the kids we never had.

At my desk today, warm sun on my face, spring dreams fill my world

... suddenly a smooth droning thunder fills the sky. Out of my window

a sleek form streaks across the sky. Red Flag has returned. I sit

quietly hoping for more ...

My thoughts drift to those who serve.

Thank you for what you do ...

Take the rifled stars a clear night lets you have,

fresh from the galaxy down,

the campfire smoke in your clothes,

a duct-taped box for caribou bones,

and hope the rivers will fish in the melt.

Gauge the tires and check the oil.

Accelerate on the outskirts of Whitehorse.

Slow for the snowing Yukon,

black bears and bison on the B.C haul.

No hunters allowed, even the elk

in Jasper’s campgrounds pose for pictures.

In the visitors center a headline from Autumn:

PhotographerGored through Window of Idling Truck.

Alberta is clocked in fog, Mt. Hood a blur in the rain.

Smothered in sun, the Redwoods arrive

as our windows fall for the first time.

California and coming fires.

I shall miss the winds that blow

Across the silent evening snow

And the lonely swaying of the pine

And the birch that move together in line.

And I shall miss the looming moon

And its silent moody little tune

That carries the whistle of the wind

And the dry leaves that tumble in.

I will remember the nights I walked

And my little inward thoughtful talks

Whenever my conscience bothered be

The moon was there to counsel me.

And I could not forget the stars

That seemed to play a little farce

As they danced across the moonlit sky

And cast their light back in my eyes.

But tonight there was a different chill

And the air was very warm and still

I knew that spring was on her way

And the gray quickly fading to day.

As I slowly began to roam

Back again towards my home

The birds began to sweetly sing

For, they could feel the coming of spring.

So long to you my gentle friend

After all we will meet again

After the last gray goose does call

And the show of snow warms us all.

Mother planted petunias

Blushed and pale blue to hug the porch

Of the wee cabin where our conspiracy of love

Blossomed into twins.

We both worked. I hammered together

Another nest when I could.

There was much too much to do,

So the plants limped and perfume

Shriveled to dusty vapor.

Saturday meant a full day on the new place

But no — She needed to shop.

“Water the flowers,” she said and left.

My time, daylight burning, was too important

To watch kids and water friggin flowers.

I jerked the hose from the reel

Cranked miffed muttering

Dust swallowed the shower.

My boys, twin heads fine as corn silk,

Leaned through my legs to clutch the marvel.

“Stand clear or you’ll get wet” an invitation to creep closer

I slapped the spray and shocked their arms.

They shrieked to the honeysuckle

Hands raised to praise the splendid sparticles.

Giggled probes of Daddy’s attention

Dash under the arched spout

Baby blond hair of water runnels,

Diapers sagging, britches dragging

Toddler feet slicking grass

A cloudburst as they hid behind the lilac

Water laughing water squealing water pumping

The flowers turgid and full in bloom.

The wind once whispered a secret foreign to their ears. Protectors

failed to notice the subtle cries and gentle tears. The wind was

crying, ‘Sweet Father. Sweet Father, please hold us dear.’ The

trees fall so silent that one can barely hear. Protectors fail to

notice as mountainsides disappear. The trees are crying, ‘Sweet

Father. Sweet Father, please hold us dear.’ The rivers run much

slower. Pollution is severe. Protectors fail to notice. Though the

picture’s crystal clear. The rivers are crying, ‘Sweet Father.

Sweet Father, please hold us dear.’

The graceful beauty of our Earth will soon be a memory. Neglect is

torture and with every turn we create a new destiny. Where we are

crying, ‘Sweet Father. Sweet Father, please hold us dear.’

If Only, there were

hearts to give away

in February

And sadly March witnessed

the spark from the start

charred and dampened

But remember always

April knows the truth

for Fools.

Nothing was said

but much thought of nothingness

here in my head

silence, as nothing

was happening here

And, oh, how I cherish

the silence so dear

Not a peep

not a scratch

not a belch to be heard

not a pin drop

not a soul

not even a word

and so it is

and will always be

that nothing

sounds like nothing to me

Doubt floods the heart and mind.

Well, that’s no crime.

A lot of people find their minds

Wasting away on this past time.

It’s really not crazy; nor, is it strange.

Without a doubt, doubt is to blame.

Words of caution when spreading doubt when they’re out they begin to sprout.

They fester and grow most everywhere.

People find doubt no matter their cares.

Doubt troubles both inside and out.

Leaving you nothing but more and more doubt.

Here I am over the glistening snow.

The moon brings out a tremendous glow.

The owl hoots in the night, leaves me with a little fright.

The Yukon sits frozen below, I believe there’s more to know.

People look at Rampart as a passage, I look it as serenity.

Quiet, calm, still and few.

We have a lovely view.

The noise and bustle of the city help us to rely on ours a plenty.

Though few here we’ll always welcome other to see our Rampart as we be.

In our time of need, we never look far.

There is always help from someone a near.

In our lives, we seen folks come and go. They’d share their jokes and memories too.

They love their visit with us few.

The aurora still it glows isn’t a substitute for the rainbow, a lot of gold still lies below.

I let a sound out in the night, yet silence is still there.

Where are the people? Here and there?

O this Rampart.

Serenity still in the air.

Come and join the quiet affair.

You’ll find out why my heart remains here.

I ran into myself the other day.

Driving to the end of the days,

and myself walked up with the mask of play.

Tinted by the snow —

glittering in the raging sun.

But brushed with colors: made of red, and blue.

Come back to me,

and drop all i can do.

See my eyes turn to gray,

and drop the stars from their thrones on your lush green grass today.

Oh yes,

yes.

I ran into myself the other day,

and woke up to say:

my heart breaks,

my head aches,

my body feels the pain of the worlds fate.

Bottled tears,

bottled fears.

I can’t reach my moon,

my galaxies-

i just walk on.

Walk on faster through the blaring of headlights.

I ran into myself,

and the mask dropped from my face.

The rain started to pour,

and i was left in such haste ...

to myself and I.

And I took a ride,

To the end of emotions —

and never looked back for time needs me to be tough.

That mask I had to pick back up,

brush off ...

and but the play back on for this is my way to show I care.

In my way.

In the days to come,

this mask will shatter even on my face,

this play will stop,

and no words will come from those lips.

The gray sky will not shine,

and my heart will not beat.

The stars will fall from their throne,

to the moon they will go ...

And your lush green grass will grow.

My heart pounds against the red rain.

The window shield is dialed in time,

broken into shattering snow fall.

Tossed into headlights,

and taken by a hand.

Let the dice roll against the frozen pavement.

Let the moon rise against the red sky.

Take me for a ride.

Toss my hair through the wind,

catch and take it in.

Just once.

Just twice.

Maybe three times.

Let it rain red against the snowy nite,

and broken down headlights.

Let it rock the days ahead the hardest.

Let the winds scream my name,

and drop my fingers to my bear side...

and dine in the glass shattering light.

A heart for a heart in the red rain.

There once was a man from Kathmandu,

his favorite snack was chocolate fondue.

He had two cats

they wore silly hats

and they ate the fondue too.

— Megan Thompson, age 11,

North Pole

In this swirling, twirling mist, called ‘life,’ lifelines are wound

in dreams.

Though truth glimpsed by the dark of night is soon lost to daily need.

Some say this ‘mist’ is controlled by winds, which decide our

destiny.

That they swirl and twirl, creating designs; deciding what fate will

bring.

I say this ‘mist’ is our Creator’s gift; to foster creative

minds.

That the ‘Wise Old Man’ just took each strand and hung us on the

‘Winds of Time.’

I dine in the snow,

break ice in the air.

I laugh.. this is only day to share.

Break my heart and let me rot.

I know the days from the nights,

let me wake up not into fright.

Break a neck and break a back,

bleed like a dying man.

I blink my eyes several times and bite my lip of mine.

Quick as the sand that moves the earth.

I walk on to the ocean floor and here i sit.

Dazed in waves to my knees,

the wind blows the whispers of the gods....... look at my hands.

Dried by the sun and lined by the mother who borne me.

The depth of the sand is time in my black box, broken into glass,

i dance in the worlds wishes and nightmares.

Winged but human.

Evil but not.

Good but Sinful.

A fairy in the eyes of the ocean starry worlds... does dazzle you?

Dazzle in the eyes of every human and non.

Fight against the skies with shooting fire from Mars.

But it breaks in mid air and shatters in the worlds fair... gravel and

rocks.

Snowing of thousands of beaded lies of tells of new.

World of old, shattering of cathedrals but rewind.

Play it back for me. Non Human soul.

I want to see.

You thought it dazzled but yet not.

Bring back down the hour glass.

Laying on the surfaces of paneled wood covered in snow and birch.

The sand of time shine in the moonlight.

Ice forms while the earth spins.

It is time.

Time is the rest of life.

My hands move quickly turn the dice.

Two at the same time but break in a sweat.

The darkness of the mother earths cloak has blinded the blues of the

sky’s yellows and whites.

I lay back with the sand burning digging into the lines of my life

lines.......... palms bleed.

No pain yet to scream only life is time.

Time is life.

Does it dazzle the worlds greatest glory to your whites of your eyes

human and non?

Can it be written in the sand and the moon.

We will hope.

Time.

Time.

To my little dearest ones...

I feel complete joy to be around you,

the sky is bluer

the sun shines warmer now

To be around you I feel peaceful

Hoping for a better tommorrow

the only words I can say is "so beautiful"

just letting you know, you make me happy...to my lil cousins...Natalie

John, Lynnea Frank, Ashton Peter

They keep clean what they have

They clean their home with limited mobility

They sleep on the couch while grown boys take their bed,

still asleep in the late morn

Mother to all, loved by the lost and broken

who stop by to drink tea, and chop their wood

Broken down cupboards that hold an array of delicate dishes

They sit cleaning berries

With yesterdays fish still on the stove

Sitting there in the morning sun

Tending to their beadwork to make ends meet

Bead by colorful bead they sew onto the smoked moose hide

Happy and content

Years of community service plaques line the wall

A photo with their loving husband who passed long before

Yet they remain steadfast in prayer

Gentle but strong

Refusing to live in the city

God Bless their weathered brown hands,

their stories, their twinkling joyful eyes

whose edges are turning blue with age

their history, their sweet scent………

God Bless Native Elders

This is the place I dwell

And scream, "Please help me"

But for the record,

For the record I'm thinking, "I hate you"

This is my mind you're in

And you're asking "Why me?"

And honestly,

Completely honestly I'm once again repeating, "This is who I am"

This is the day I laugh

and know "Everything will be okay"

And without a doubt,

Without a doubt you assure me I'm still psychotic

This is the moment I smile

And whisper, "I'm letting go"

But in the end,

In the very end you'll reach for me and say "Please hold on"

This is the night I cry

And wonder "Did I just say goodbye to my future?"

But in the beginning,

In the very beginning we never think about the end.

We never think about the end.

Silent invisable wind blows snow from the majestic birch trees of this

boral forest we call home...

Sun fades golden cream yellow behind distant mountains we call the

Alaska range...

Time passes through the misic on soundscapes, as we live our lives...

Hand in hand we work to restore our planet to peace and good health for

all humans and animals alike. We must be the change, the invisable wind

whispered in my ear on this dreamy winters afternoon....