to be natural

by Tony R. Rodriguez

droplets of precipitation cascade from trees the size of Victorian homes
noble are these trees
     for they adorn this creek mankind forgets to thank
but how fun it is to wiggle my toes along her composed rocks
     that align the bed of this baptismal flow
I'm thirty-five now
     yet I feel like dear Mother has removed two decades
those who may not dip their feet in Her waters lack vision
I want to be more natural
I want these words to reach someone
I want someone to visit this creek and paint a picture
     or let a poet stronger than I write a piece about Her
     that changes the way [people] see their connections with Her
     —whoever the painter or writer or reader may be

Copyright © Tony R. Rodriguez 2005

a teacher in a tennis ball

by Tony R. Rodriguez

and our [heroine] finds a nice cool slab of steel lying by the edge of the creek the steel affording shade to black grasshoppers and scavenger ants that slowly rip apart a decaying caramel apple left by some kid who didn't enjoy going to the carnival.

and our [heroine] stares across the creek for hours that matured into days and nights the sun and moon keeping her company while deer pass and insects roam around her and algae builds slowly along branches that dip themselves into the cool water that runs fiercely down stream.

and our [heroine] picks up a crooked stick and taps gently a few blades of grass that serve as a resting post for dragonflies and tiny gnats who all see a dirty TENNIS BALL that once belonged to a dog swiftly spin along the running water bumping into rocks that poke themselves above the surface.

and our [heroine] watches this TENNIS BALL beach itself suddenly along the bank near her where it waits for someone/something to play with it lightly like the water that nips at its side trying its best to free it from the edge of the creek.

and our [heroine] watches the TENNIS BALL get sucked back into the swift waters bobbing up and down smacking more rocks and she realizes that like the water of this creek LIFE never stops its pulsating flow.

and our [heroine] like the TENNIS BALL that was once beached will be picked up and thrown back into the swift waters of LIFE allowing her to float and play along the ride of growing older.

Copyright © Tony R. Rodriguez 2005

a continuing kick of youth

by Tony R. Rodriguez

I want to catch a frog
I need to roll down a hill and later pick barbs out of my socks and shirt
I need to see the moon the way I did when I used to sneak out late—
     my mother thinking I was asleep in bed
it's been awhile since I witnessed my last sunset
     it's been longer since my
               [last sunrise]
try to listen to the grass when it says, Sit here
follow through with dialogue when the birds chirp near
when the rain comes down in mist and in buckets
     do you still smother your face in its comfort?
think back to the size of that backyard tree
how many hours did you spend
     [talking to yourself] underneath it?
and skipping rocks across a lake or stream can certainly remove grief
     and alter it to [relaxation]
forget not the moments you once lived
open those tired eyes
they're still coming
be aware of life
believe that the road to the shaping-years still exists
pick up that book and revisit the marooned
seek the buried treasure
if you look around you, the clouds still take shape
and the first time never has to be the only time
you can still capture that feeling for the first time in a similar form
giddy on the phone while you're home alone is still attainable
those Saturday-morning shows still show—get up earlier next weekend
I miss the games in the field the most; I should ask my friends for another game.

Copyright © Tony R. Rodriguez 2005

when do you know?

by Tony R. Rodriguez

When you look within yourself and find that gem of creativity,
     how do you know if you're a dreamer or a genius or a madman?
Playing your guitar on the edge of the porch,
     singing your poems to the walls of your bedroom,
     dancing the ballet in your empty kitchen, in your dirty socks,
     composing your thoughts on frayed binder paper-
     penmanship lacking—
     how do you know?
How do you know if you're brilliant or mad?
Perhaps brilliance just means being at the right place at the precise time.
Perhaps.
Perhaps not.
But there are millions of creative people out there—
     who among them is brilliant?
Some Treasures will be discovered regardless.
Other gifted souls will forever remain pushing up their boulders.
Those we've considered to be brilliant have never stopped being dreamers.
And I like that thought, because I see myself as a dreamer.
I see myself as a dreamer who dreams of continuing things,
     things I've already "attempted."

Copyright © Tony R. Rodriguez 2005