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Love and Silence © 2016, Ron McFarland 2
LOVE AND SILENCE
SELECTED POEMS
OF
RON MCFARLAND
Copyright © 2016 by Ronald D. McFarland, Ph.D.
Blog:
http://www.cowboyhaiku.com

COPYRIGHT AND DISCLAIMER
No part of this publication may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical
or electronic, including photocopying and recording,
or by any information storage and retrieval system,
without permission in writing from the author (except
by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages and/or
short brief video clips in a review).
Disclaimer: The author makes no representations or
warranties with respect to the accuracy or
completeness of the contents of this work and
specifically disclaims all warranties, including without
limitation warranties for a particular purpose. No
warranty may be created or extended by sales or
promotional materials.

DEDICATION
I dedicate this book to my father. In particular, I found
his tenacity and his ability to get through most things
in life memorable. He was a tormented man, confused
by love and angered by his own demons. He died
fairly young, when I was a teenager attempting to find
myself. I am convinced that he died of a broken heart.
And, when he died, I then knew what a broken heart
was really about. To this very day, many decades
ago, due to his short life and early death, I have
grown to understand both pain and love, seperation
and closeness, and love and the silence that follow
just a bit more. While I never got to know him fully nor
had the chance to love him as an adult son might get
to know his dad, I dedicate this book to his memory
and to the many moments over my lifetime that I lost
out by not having him around later in my life. To this
day, I miss him. Here’s to you, pops!

WHY I WROTE THIS BOOK
I wrote this book because I know that a strange chill
often follows in love’s silence. Love can leave the
room unexpectedly. To know the sound of footsteps
walking down the hallway, when shouts and tears still
echo from bedroom walls brings understanding. The
rhythmic sound of the ocean rocks in the background
of a silent string of moments after the love has gone.
I also wrote this book because I am also in love with
words. Words are my crayons, the color Pentel
pencils that can be used to outline, color and shape
feelings. And, I wrote this book to share with each of
you.
I hope you enjoy.

TABLE OF CONTENTS
Copyright and Disclaimer ............................................3
Dedication....................................................................4
Why I Wrote This Book................................................5
Table of Contents ........................................................6
Aspen...........................................................................9
Silent Space...............................................................10
Do You Hear My Whisper?........................................12
Two Little Tea Cups...................................................13
The Feather ...............................................................15
The Old Poet..............................................................16
The Prayer of The Trail..............................................17
Die a Bit More ............................................................19
Dying Ember ..............................................................21
At The Grave..............................................................22
Beautiful Storm ..........................................................23
Bending Light.............................................................25
Bounded Sorrow........................................................27
Cheers to Love ..........................................................28
Dark Side of an Angel................................................30
Childhood Dreams.....................................................30
Memories Lost ...........................................................32

A Stand ......................................................................33
Childhood Perfection .................................................35
In the Silence .............................................................46
Inner Beat ..................................................................47
Long Journey.............................................................52
Restless Night............................................................60
Rivers of Gasoline .....................................................61
Seek...........................................................................62
Giving.........................................................................64
Sending Love to Thee ...............................................65
She is Sunshine.........................................................66
Silence to the Evening...............................................67
Simple Leaf................................................................68
Six This Morning........................................................70
Sour Currant ..............................................................71
Listen One..................................................................72
Still Darkness.............................................................74
Tanera Mor ................................................................75
Two final cuts: Ode to the dream of being a Rodeo
Cowboy ......................................................................76
Thank You!.................................................................82
About The Author.......................................................84
Other Books By Ron McFarland ...............................86

ASPEN
Flutter of aspen
Beyond the tale of soft pines
Miracle of love.

SILENT SPACE
There is a silent space.
It is the pause between a breath moved out and
drawn in.
In the early morn when darkness is slowly
shuttled away, it is before the full day.
In the rhythm of life, it is the still silence of the
crackling of nature.
An offering is given to each one of us.
In the morning hours, there is a glimpse into the holy
lands.
The quiet path unfolds in front, each and every day,
It mostly goes unnoticed, untended.
You can hear its silence.
It is the delicate song of the late lonely night with
the unhurried crescendo to the dawn.
It is the abode that sleeps and creaks its weary
bones in the wee hours and warms to first light.
Listen along with me, as we lay undercover in the
morning.
Well before the sun raises its sleepy gaze over this
land.
You will then know the hushed secret.
It is the music of silence.
It is the quiet space, the pause, that lives between
each note of the flute.
It is the timber inhalation and exhalation.
In this moment of silence, spirit and love is
found.

Hold onto this secret and know that it embraces
you.
When the world presents a tumbling of chaotic
days and the shells of spent dreams,
The respite, this gift, is ours each morning.
Seek it out.

DO YOU HEAR MY WHISPER?
What does the wind whisper to you?
Listen to the song of the manzanita tree and the
desert holly,
As we step down this trail,
Towards the late afternoon spring.
There is a lifting up, of an accord to heaven,
On this wash of red sandstone and hematite;
A distant drumming, together of our heartbeats,
One pulse as we walk along the mesa’s edge.
I catch a glimpse into your eyes,
As the peering sun squints between feathered clouds;
On canyon walls, I hear a subtle song reflected,
From a past long shared, in a distant foreign land.
The whisper of times spent wrapped together,
In a blanket near the fire, on a brisk winter’s evening;
And of moments that we danced slowly together,
In the soft hush of the spring morn.
You searched for me in rainbows that color the sky,
You watched for me in the thousand winds that blew,
You met me in diamond glints in the snow;
When you thought, I was gone.
Turn my way and know;
That I am here, and have always been,
With you.

TWO LITTLE TEA CUPS
I sat with two little teacups side by side
One was empty and the other held a surprise
Silence followed you into the bistro early
Looked into your eyes and we merged in time.
Wind rolled off the mountain top this morning
When you fought with the opened door
And there you were, so sadly beautiful
I thought of you very little since you were gone.
I have lived in the chilly winds of his injustice
Laughed clenched fist at no joy to your exodus
The self-imposed curfew of sequestered months
Ushered in a newfound inheritance of sorrow.
Gave the God of all things way too much advice
Negotiated my future sins away for your return
I renounced your outing with him and not me
Because unfree things must lack greatness.
And I still walk with the spirit of the wind
Set your picture by the bed right next to me
And he still casts rain over my shoulder
You have always been my little restless sea.
Fumbled for words to welcome your return
Did you know the sun died behind the snowcaps last
night?

As I reached down to the two little tea cups
One was empty and the little one was gone.

THE FEATHER
I lifted a feather on barren patch
On dusty sand out in the desert sun.
Early this morning while tying my shoe
And headed for an early sunrise run.
I held it towards the sunrise and sky
And was bumped with a beam of soft white light.
That gently patted my upper right cheek
And brought a vision of you into sight.
A bird of paradise retold the story
On this windy desert path where I go.
Of you with me and of us together
In moments not too long ago.
I laid on the floor in recent months past
As tears warmed my cheeks and filled my ears.
And I swore at God howling your return
Having vanished the finest of my years.
As I raised that feather on sandy patch
Early this morning while tying my lace.
The very long months have now too soon passed
Thinking of your beautiful smiling face.
Silent moments that I now share with you
Your whisper to me is for the living.
Your note from eternity and beyond
The gift of this feather you have given.

THE OLD POET
A blue moon peeks in the black sky tonight
Touch the warm climate of feet on the sand
Your white horse once long ago wore a rider
Before you left with a toothbrush in hand
Ocean sounds are heard though the tears in my eyes
Away, when you walked out the door
No cheer rose up through the rafters and roof
When footsteps faded outside my door
One would be so foolish to sing shrill praises
To count twinkling jubilation in the sky
Space of life’s rhythm is a rush of sorrow
Flooding the deadbeat behind these blue eyes
Days have fallen like dead sparrows
With every word a burnished guild
Calanais standing stones surround sorrow
Twelve apostles know the old heart has chilled
Warmth in my chest pours the wound of rich blood
Your lips broke the crust of harsh words
Laughing to my knees breaks a quiver of veins
The moment like a child's secret covert
Procession under the cypress tree branch
A fortnight after I lay down to pray
Ocean sounds again lift to a tear in your eyes
Soft dust whispers the old poet away

THE PRAYER OF THE TRAIL
The simple rush of the golden brown snail
Leads us inches before on his worldly trail.
The slow progress of the human race
Makes each of us lose a little face.
I thank you for the distant sounds
Of your music echoing all around.
As I step down this rocky trail
Oh mother nature, your face so frail.
To hear the breath moving in and out
Lonely cedar flute that spirit spouts.
Remind in care to shape my words
With cloth gloves and thoughtful birds.
So my terms may be easily taken
Understand soft edges won’t be shaken.
Let me know secrets of tender passion
To give her love without ration.
To hear the sigh of her once more
Lips to ear opens every door.
May the heart of hearts always stay
Under clouds, either white or grey

May the simple white moon rising in the sky
Bring the evening’s sweetness to the eye.
When there are no bones and marrow
Lift me on the wings of a sparrow.
But remind me throughout this stay
Love is a verb to be used in every day.

DIE A BIT MORE
I lay on my side, set by the tall window
And stare with no new hope for this raging land.
To have once walked tenderly upon it’s shoulder
A tear in my eye for the missing pure strand.
There was no guard for the season of spirit
No song left for the dying of our land.
To strike it was like gravity to the blind
And now it lays, a curse from our own hand.
As humans we once laughed with trepid sorrow
Pointed to the fuzzy memory of your long ago past.
We toasted success like the old wine of the day
And took simple pride like a hooker’s easy laugh.
The twilight of happiness now flickers so dimly
And brings forward the shadow of your morbidity.
The sad guitar now sings from the hollows of hearts
Since we’ve beaten the eyetooth of your fluidity.
I sleep in the cavity of the night holding regret
About the stardust and the blood lost deep from this
land.
We the people, who laughed at our own charm

Have lost the fields of golden oats at hand.
There was no guard for the season of spirit
No song left for the dying of our land.
To strike it was like gravity to the blind
And now it lays, a curse from our own hand.
Now this gap between the night and early twilight
We have forgotten to quietly shut the door.
Like the space between a first love and last love
With each of your losses, we die a bit more.

DYING EMBER
What is the hope of a dying ember?
Precarious faith splintered by spent dreams
leave anemic love longing.
For it was in your youthful years
when I held you close,
as now.
But during your morning
and the noon-day sun
Arms torn from their sockets
and your memory: cured and salted.
The wounds slashed across my heart
left an uninvited epidermal sheath
Entrapping an ember
held for you

AT THE GRAVE
At this grave lies my heart
Assembled in a childlike pose
Loss clutches me in pain
To your grasp of the lily flower.
Folded hands hold your quest
And I sit now, your visitor
Your eyes quiet and blind
Like wildflowers on the lawn.
At this grave lies my heart
Your dreams now curl into the wind
And I squat motionless
Dreams covered by sadness and sand.

BEAUTIFUL STORM
Oh woman, oh this beautiful storm
Blue sad eyes and waters warm.
Tell me the stories of forlorn
Beautiful woman, this beautiful storm.
Softly into my shoulders lean
Teardrops can make love smolder.
Unhappiness of your lost dream
Changes from warm to colder.
Dimpled smile and gentle locks
Tell me softly in our talks
Of many lovers and his flocks
Your simple smile and golden frocks.
Whisper the lie of your love lost
The feel of a rhythmic breathing.
When you were up on a lover’s cross
And days of his deceiving.
Draw back into my waters warm
River flows where passions form
Carrying us to a sense of norm
Sheltering you from the storm.
Kindness calls when a hurt happens
Where does the happiness go?
Blanket for us to both wrap in

The stories that we both know.
My woman, oh my beautiful storm
Blue sad eyes and waters warm.
Tell me the stories of your forlorn
Beautiful woman, my beautiful storm.

BENDING LIGHT
Early light sparks over the horizon,
It is the introduction of a new dawn.
The sun swells and the dark is coaxed away.
Long shadows of the night slowly roll up.
The crisp sun slips it’s fingers under the chilled
Ponderosa pines.
The trees, mountains, and open spaces are released
from the nightly cloak of darkness.
Each day is another face of God.
I am but a soul made of red clay,
And the ground is my spirit that I walk on.
My ancestors moved before me on this path.
They now step silently along in my exile to the forest
Clothed in Aspen and Ponderosa pine in the morning
light.
Each day now holds my spirit.
The colors of sun paint the early autumn
Bled yellows, reds, and orange unto the canvas
before me.
I carefully set each foot onto the path -- A corridor of
gentle dancing shapes of light.
Each day aligns to a course for my journey.
The heart of nature I seek,
And the soul of your presence, I long for.
It is here that I may find you,
My companion, my lover,
On this side of the escarpment, where solace is
found.

Each day is of the bending light.

BOUNDED SORROW
The bitter berry sun of earlier morning
Stabbing light of speedy sun
Unseen fell in tightened cloak
Woe bounded sorrow from fun
When daylight falls to a glowing ember
To rod my sprinting stare
Evading your diffused path
Lure me from open glare
The death of a song soon not forgotten
Corpse remembered tomorrow
Even when I’m way off track
I bump about my sorrow
An echoed hollow recoiled in me
Tricks the metering of rhyme
Fools utter senseless advice
I mock forward in my time
Piercing shard of the early morning light
A gouging fragmented sun
Bitter berry of first day
Woe bounded sorrow from fun

CHEERS TO LOVE
Set my glass on fire with your finest red wine
And I’ll toast to the lover’s long fire
Brings rings to my rosy red cheeks
Your verdict are the words of a liar
To poke at the faults of each of your brothers and
sisters
When you’ve swerved yourself to and fro
You may be of a convincing stature
But for your prattle, I just won’t go
The fundamentalism of the church or the mosque
Is a place where I just won’t enroll
To share in the criticism of someone’s life
Is only under “I am’s” control
To guilt the adventures of love lost
The limitations of control are not mine
To punish our love’s drunken desires
Your judgment is like dark tannins to wine
I lift my gold challis of wine to you
To my warm and delirious friend
May the dreamy drunkard in me
Love the zany in you to soon end
Grace and love will one day be shown
When the curtain is finally lifted

The story will be finally told
Grace to all is what will be gifted

DARK SIDE OF AN ANGEL
On the dark side of an angel
At the other side of the fold
No joy in the abyss
Grows weary to the soul
To then travel on a journey
And peer across the ledge
The genesis of knowing
Takes you far beyond the edge
There’s elation in every moment
As we walk down life’s winding trail
To allow the embrace of another
Set the breeze of love in full sail
There is a different landscape
That your guide will gently show
It is more that you’ve ever expected
The exhilaration of love’s flow
To peer in the eyes of your angel
And reconnect to your true soul
A message from life’s journal
Let love bring you into the whole.
CHILDHOOD DREAMS

Buried beneath my blanket
Bewitched by little sheep
Break lights dance on bedroom walls
Traffic always beeps
Creepy Crabs and muddy socks
Crammed up underneath
Calling what my mother said
Brush my little teeth
Tiny clicks and thumping clocks
Tinking tiny drip
Take the little plastic cup
Another teeny sip
Whistling winds in window jams
Wiggling, the tall pines
Wild little childhood dreams
Little nursery rhymes
Spooky sprays of spitting sea
Sat up on my bed
Swaying color images
Dancing in my head
Something slightly happens then
Sleepy little peep
Sagging little eyelids droop
Sending me to sleep

MEMORIES LOST
From the foam on the ocean waves
To the sand in the wind
And beat of a winged messenger
Whispered of a spirit thinned
Hungry child cold and bare
Picks dead flowers in the morning
Lack of delicious sleep
Flickering neon forewarning
The dry laugh of a god
To your soul seeking perfection
Sacred vows said in sheets
Is of no certain reflection
Search for an enchantment
Matches the soul of a poser
Opening your wild eyes
Drawing him closer and closer
Provoking your flashy spirit
Tugging in a mire
Treachery and scandalous faith
Loss of sacred fire
And deep into your eyes tonight
I previously knew
Stolen in those awakened blues
Were lost memories of you

A STAND
We spin and spin in tumbling of words,
Reason is absent from the reasoned.
The lie is unleashed to each one of us,
And is swallowed by all the minions.
Gone are the days of playful folly,
And the innocent times of a child.
To a world of violent blood-lust,
Trapped wherever conspiracies are piled.
The best among us lack a belief
While the vile rest with the strength.
And the wars to gather political gains,
Are sold to us at great length.
It’s argued to grow the financial system,
We must be involved in conflict.
The goal is for an economic structure
So that our markets will continue to tick.
Assuredly an expose is to found,
Somewhere on the corner newsstand.
The deadly sin of the monster go unchallenged,
My compliance gives greed a hand.
So arrange your camouflage duffle,
And say goodbye to your daughter or son.

We’ll gambol this unending shuffle,
Until the next row is infinitely won.
I now sit and watch my big tele,
With a beer and brat in hand.
As leaders herald another war,
Ain’t it time that we each take a stand?

CHILDHOOD PERFECTION
I played with a stick
And stirred tadpoles in small puddles
When I wore Lederhosen
As a child in Deutchland
I skipped along narrow sidewalks
And stuck my fingers into bullet holes
Against grey concrete buildings
When I was young in Wurzburg
I played on green-pillowed fields
And rolled down soft grass-cushioned hills
Laughing and tumbling
Near old Nazi Concentration Camps
I was the five-year old
Playing kick-the-can near the Autobahn
And not understanding much more
Than a sense of perfection
My mother gave me a canopy
Of beautiful German night skies
And early Bavarian morning wonder
Blended together with an absence of pain
I think back to those days now
As late winds howl against the shutters
To pain hidden in that place of perfection
Sheltered in all the places that I’ve been

COLORS
Yellow plastic polished raincoat
And little red rubber boots
Running by tall castles and moats
Dashing by roads, tasting fruit.
Ruby bell-peppered pursed puckered lips
Bright burnished indigo eyes
Play in streams with brown wooden ships
Under azure German skies.
Balloons scraping yellow sunlight
Candy canes green gummy bears
Mysteries in the ink of the night
Dreams of brown castles and stairs.
Rain dripping on grey canopies
Over black cobblestone streets
Red-checkered picnics with families
Nights under tented tan sheets.
Auburn ants and people in the square
Crimson bearded garden gnomes
Big trees of tasty yellow pears
Green forest path to my home.
The scent of an open blood-orange
Golden honey sticky sweet
Open squeaky brass door hinge
When running home down my street.

When everything is said and done
Colors of my childhood dreams
Decorated my world with fun
Still fills my heart with sunbeams.

DAITURA MOON
From the day that I heeded to an open heart
To a gash through the great divine white shroud
Over brilliant new colors painted upon the land
Under secrecies saved silent to the crowd
Tight barbed-wire fences that parcel this terrain
Bound from what we often attune
Before us small canyons cracked by arroyos
Behind the mysterious daitura moon
To opening a doorway free from a lock
From which we are chiseled and coarsely hewn
Under cloak of night we can scarcely see
Over to the mysteries scattered and strewn
Below the evening sky where my soul once flew
Above, behind, and away – absent the shroud
Trailing far from the circadian ambuscade
Leading beyond and though the sweeping white cloud
Dwell in life with an inexplicable wonder
Pause to lift your soul to the complete tune
Envelope your world from all parts asunder
Opened by the mysterious daitura moon

LOVE TO A VETERAN
A buggy boyish smile once lived long ago upon his face
Wiped away by the bitter bite of the dirty desert sun
Leaves drying puddles poured of salty swollen tears
Forgets foggy fantasies lost long ago in angry Afghanistan.
Blood poured profusely from tabernacles and temples
Mangled Minarets lie fast on the dusky desert floor
Shocked hospital currents and cataracts in his blue blurry
eyes
Haunted by horrors done to both the old and the poor.
Dazed dumbfounded believed blatant institutions of
insanity
That spew spittle slurs and hunger for hatred and more
Rubs out the furious flames of the country’s tiny children
Makes each and every juvenile lonely waifs of war.
The blindfolded beggar now lies left on his spangled side
Pleading pity as he rightly reaches to his greatest god
Extending eyes of baby blue swatches of splintered love
Whispers to government ghost ear of a past public fraud.
Silently spits the raging wrath of the victorious veteran
Death worms wiggle in recalling shortly stopping sister and
brother

Drank deep from the abyss of the once odious deception
To kill dark deprives and hardens justice of father and
mother.
Reasons rampage from furious fights behind the illusion
Strong men frighten who fought behind hidden doors
Metals meant for great goodness, victor, vim and valor
Now rests on the fake falsehood of the country’s
continuous war.

GONE
We whispered lies in the morning
As we each slowly slipped out of the bed
I dreamt of torching our story
And silently wished you were dead
Sadness in the room of ashes
Brings bad spirits up through the floor
The sun bleeds another fire
As you silently sneak out the door
I once watched for them hiding
Rattlesnakes laying deep in the grass
The eye tooth that rips the tiger
Is something that now lives in my past
There is a great flood that is coming
As certain as the cask around my head
The blue moon is finally rising
With your short walk into another bed

GRAVESTONES
Gravestones of my fake friend’s rest
Lean up against empty fireplace of my lover’s heart
And the hollow chapel of their lost lies
Are dark skies of happiness that spent balloons start
Ancient comfort of the glaring parents
Once stirred the spring air lose from this stale cabin
While their endless battles echo in every night
Are tumbled mountain tops to set the dust in
Oh, bitter blood runs deep in my heart
And spirit of loss seeps into the soul
Hardened cornerstones of my landscape
No world alone from which you stole
A wound is covered inside the packed mud
Lies break open the back of your vision
To inhale the false flame of the angel
Is your lie cast with direct precision
Angry people follow his lonely pointed finger
All terrified souls are repentant at the grave
He is covered by a warm veil that hides the sun
And God’s green pasture is all but saved
Oh, bitter blood runs deep in my heart
And spirit of loss seeps into the soul

Hardened cornerstones of my landscape
No world alone from which you stole

IN THE HANDS OF LOVE
Bubble gum, Starbursts and Cherry Cokes
Youth hanging on corners of streets
Cards and close pins in bicycle spokes
In the past friends would always meet
Veil of innocent days as a child
Born to laugh, run, play, eat, and fart
Exhausted animal tossed in bed
Moon glow in window of the heart
Ground soon began to swell in our teens
Love shining star beams through glasses
Songs played on a guitar to the wind
Phoning you as our love passes
Later crown was a circle of fear
Was a lost boy without a slingshot
Misplaced tiger of the sea and surf
A baseball team without a mascot
Cheerful shouts of burning and laughter
By Angel’s voice rejoicing pain
And sketching an impermanent spot
With markers like chalk in the rain
Life’s little rag tag small teddy doll
Once played silent, blind, deaf and dumb
Corpse grows chilly, cold, rigid and stiff
Turned under someone’s twisting thumb

Storm windows and shutters were then closed
A veil of white cascading cloth
Warm protection behind narrow bars
Shallows of customary loth
I now walk onto a tender path
Things I say have finally turned
Music in my soul at darkness night
Mended from the choice to be burned
Be you the focus of the mason
Chisel leaned up against the stone
Live the fixation of the potter
Pushing up against fresh clay thrown
If life once put the dagger in you
A bully that will push and shove
Brings a chance of maimed and wounded
May you long be in the hands of love.

IN THE SILENCE
At home living with this silence
Just like no one is around
Weighing the plus and minus
But my heart just can’t be found.
Horseshoe moon, four leave clover
Are said to bring someone luck
Some things can’t be done over
Emotions feel really stuck.
Coffee, sports and politics
Are what I take to my bed
With the boys for a few kicks
Give me strength to move ahead.
Dark walls and these narrow halls
Hide portraits of our old dreams.
Listen for those midnight calls
Still split me into my seams.
Like clay is to the potter
Simple bowls for tiny plants.
Balloon soars over water
To god we just look like ants.
Rooms will echo no answer
Windows still shake to my wrath
Jog the highway with your cancer
Run down each and every path.

INNER BEAT
Great moments enter on soft footing
You were born into this world on fluttering wings
You are rhythmic grace amongst jagged shards
The breath of spirit on your shoulder sings
Your birthing passes, yet the soul remain incomplete
Today is the new dawn of your aching heart
Love awakens by the elegance within
And your face opens brightly to a new start
For when the doorway opens
Nevermore will the lowlands be walked
The night will shift from fear to courage
And the Inward depth of nature talks
Outward, the infinity of cosmos lusts
Yet the face of inner life is the heart that looks within
Lest never forget that divine awakens love
And giving sweet breath of love to this moment begins

KING OF SCOTLAND
The Armani tie barking angry rebukes
At the man under the bridge crumpled and sagged,
Wrapped as a king on this beautiful morning
In an old tattered torn bright red sleeping bag.
The king roars rebelling at disjointed chains
Of marmalade love on Sunday mornings past,
Rusty bolts beneath sewer dripping trestles
Under the Madison bridge now where he lasts.
The suit squinting jabbing wrathful elbowed jeers
Loud bellowing barks echoing sneering shards,
To the unkempt filthy little trench coat man
Searching diamonds in oceans of dreamy stars.
See him trembling down in the dark blue dumpster
During most overcast Thursdays around two,
For crumpled cartons dripping noodles and soup
In the alleyway behind the Dragon Moon.
Filthy hanky knotted on a thrice-stitched loop
Beautiful gift left behind from her last day,
Dislocated snotty emblem on his coat
Affixed on right shoulder where her head once laid.

Yet man in Gucci shoes and neatly pressed suit
Jack hammers fisted index finger and brags,
Giving scornful stout specific directions
At the King of Scotland in red sleeping bag.

LITTLE ONE
The whisper a lover’s sigh could be our final song
As we each sit alone with our burned out little souls
Exhausted from a large stride forward taken, to the
truth
To give a life together in absence of the subterranean
crawl
In ordinary strife with short rests of only music and
drunken wine
Tired inauthentic tear drops from the cheeks, of sad
spirit
The flash of distant lightening could soon reach over
grassy hills
Beckon us to sounds rumble and roll for the on-
coming distant thunder
Is when the clarity can break through for us, my love
The challenge is for the scampering up the
mountain’s rocky face
Sliding numbness away of infinite lies of the
slumbering smiling face
That brings harm to the passionate spirit, awakened
soul
Listen to the high notes of a mockingbird on the fig
tree out the window

And the moon that rises and reaches over the restless
ocean
That will lead us back to the center with you, and me,
little one.

LONG JOURNEY
After this long earthly journey
With toil fought of final breath
The constellation will be gathered
To know love in the greatness of death
The sunset of life will be written
As the sacred correspondence of life nears
May the wounds from a lifetime of struggle
Cast clearness to dead silence of dried tears
When the angel of death places hands on my eyes
And draws out my very last exhale
May the gentle notes of our sweet love song
Lift me closer to you and always prevail
But last until that very moment
Before you are veiled in grief’s dark robe
Opportunities will be sought to comfort
Another touched deeply onto this lonely road.

MEMORY
It was a torn country of our time
Where I should have died for you
A corruptible moment with his hands
That broke the blossom of the girl blue
At seven, I kept myself buried under my bed
Where the secret lamb and cuttings were blurred
I was the young statue saving memories
In a long ship of what was once my word
The nine-year-old knew he loved his drink
By the way he’d touch his tumbler with a gentle stroke
And how he’d howl like a coyote before the prowl
While I prayed that the whiskey and rye would choke
You kept both love and loss at his arm’s length
Far hidden away from your brother to see
You carefully walked down a lonely footpath
And took your life, perhaps just for me
It was that torn country far in our past
Where I also died long ago with you
Our short lived times as brother and sister
Slain behind secret hidden fences too
Now I look into the horizon of many eyebrows
On city streets over each and every day
There are many faces where I can recognize you
A long memory of scars not worn way.

SYCAMORES
The messy sycamores edge out our dirt driveway
I haven’t gotten to them this very season.
Waterlines streak in the sink of undone dishes
They sit crusted up and waiting for some reason.
I’ve taken out the trash only during the rain
Kicked your soiled hiking boots braced on front stoop.
Their chards of debris veneer over this old pain
While the noise of the storm rattles on the tin roof.
My day starts and it is already 5 p.m.
Our old hallowed dreams have now spoiled with time.
Which now brings an unwanted tear to our shared
hymn
To an ill-timed anthem that is absent a rhyme.
The messy sycamores shore up the dirt driveway
I now watch the sun set far over distant hill.
Bumpy sycamores still dash the tattered old fence
But this evening bears a peculiar found chill.

SOUL MIRROR
The secret scent of a flower
Can lift you through the air
Spin in wild jubilation
And may cut through your despair
Like wild guitar music
That rises to the heaven
With a simple tune made up
From a diatonic scale of seven
Look for the subtle voice
Inside your lover’s eyes
She holds cheery dreams
The heart flower of surprise
Reach for her caring hand
Start with a simple talk
The mingling of two souls
Leads to caring morning walks
The message of this poem
Is two parts can form the whole
It is hidden deep inside
Love is a mirror of your soul.

OPEN HEART
My friend,
You forgot to tighten your open heart,
You take in sunshine, stars and moon.
And you never forgotten to realize,
To embrace a friend is never too soon.
Another grueling week tops from the start,
Your view is filled with clouds, trees and peaks.
Found you in moments embracing the silent earth,
The tender spiritual awakening you seek.
Beauty finds you in a subtle delay,
A breath of inhale, exhale and recess.
The daily epistle of a rolling shift,
Like egress of beach waves and ingress.
You’re soft harmonic can please the ear,
A tone at fret twelve, seventh, or the fifth.
You’re a friend to announce the day is here
The climbing bloom of sunshine forthwith.
In chilly spraying of gusty snowfall
Cast on bench, walkway and street below.
On a cold dark starry winter’s night,
You’re a warm blanket for glittering snow.
You’ve handed thoughts to the open sky
For the mountains, earth and moon.
An acknowledgement that it is okay,
To offer a tear in the morning or noon.

I make a re-commitment for my breath,
A musical pause, break and interlude.
And the recess that now lives in between,
Is the grace note that reminds me of you.

PINK CARNATION
Give me pink carnations at noon
And whiskey at night
For to explore and wander
The pale neon light.
In the deep blue sky of summer
And dusty cafes
These long nights drive me half crazy
On roads near the bay.
One body from two spirits
Do our souls now make
Sing a melody from heartache
In morning awake.
Life forms in circular patterns
Choice formed in the head
Friends are often our best critics
About our path led.
Thoughts of you enter through roofs
Split me to the seams
Memories seep into these walls
Shake me from my dreams.
My dreams carve a dark forest
In nighttime through beams
Your lips touched the sky

And shook me from my dreams.
A carnation in the morning
And whiskey at noon
A gentle hope in the evening
That I see you soon.

RESTLESS NIGHT
Moonlight streaks through the blinds tonight
I thought it was a city streetlight that was switched on.
I stare out: the moon was sitting on a peak of the roof
next door
I look back: I think thoughts of the mountains and my
home.
I am curled at the far edge of the bed tonight
I thought you snuck in and crawled into the bed next
to me.
I sit up: the extra pillow was propped up against the
headboard
I roll over: I think thoughts of you and my home.
I have been staring in the dark much to long tonight
I thought you had left and were forever gone.
I sat up: it was only another bad dream
I lay down: I think thoughts of us and our home.

RIVERS OF GASOLINE
For veins that reach far through my hands
That bring the sheer substance of meaning.
Rivers that stretch out far through these lands
Of broken sonnets and branches leaning.
Crumpled yellowed sheet music tossed to the floor
Foiling gives way to my own apparitions.
Healing hearts only temporarily found
Grief that ripples the cache of solution.
The short deck of cards that were solely dealt
Gin and Diazepam set fire to my meaning
In rivers of gasoline that run through my veins
And the bending spoon as I bow to my demons.

SEEK
Of all the places
And in all the faces
It is your blue eyes
That I seek.
In downtown shuffles
Just won’t fight the bustle
It is your memory
That I seek.
And for every sound
This noisy downtown
It is your whisper
That I seek.
On every landscape
It’s like your stunning shape
It is your kind voice
That I seek.
These days of driving
Just barely surviving
It is your laughter
That I seek.
Far now before me
Stare looking at the sea

It is your beauty
That I seek.
Music that you hear
It’s me pulling you near
It is your kisses
That I seek.

GIVING
Seek giving, oneness, and destiny
For your strength is of the divine
A Promised Land to set humanity
A code to open the lock of time
We have given God into our image
Yet we still try to seek the divine
But linger in the abyss that exists
Locked between an unmetered rhyme
Whatever we offer to someone else
Our bodies and minds experience first
Chocolates, wine, and all delights
No matter if for good or for worse
The dance that we do with Mother Nature
Is like a waltz that swings to and fro
Between the ultimate destruction of loving minds
And creativity that we can intentionally grow
So remember for which that we each give
Both unto others and this earth
Is like a reflection upon a still lake
Please give love for all that it’s worth

SENDING LOVE TO THEE
Seek the place where the fire sparks
And to know of hope with laughter
Lie below the crust of evening
Drift into stars here after
Birth pushes us into daylight
Presenting the world with a scream
I pray a dearth for each sorrow
Absent from your every dream
We are vehicles trapped in time
Swimming up against life’s sewer
Dark shadows reflect in water
Can vision something newer
We are candles lined into stars
Chi laid in an unbroken coil
A tranquil harvest for your heart
Lays distance from life’s roil
The exchange of blood for water
Sun’s reflection exposes fear
Captive away from the true love
Hopeful spring is coming near
The daylight can end the shadows
The moon can drift over the sea
The mystery does not take away
Yet sends its love out to thee

SHE IS SUNSHINE
Sun that shines upon each morning length
A beauty of beholding light.
Emits beams of kindness, wisdom and strength
Unfolding both exquisite and bright.
Born in Detroit in a hardworking rite
Bundle of sassafras and curls.
A glimmer of hope and brilliant bright light
Prepared of all things that are girls.
As she grew and became more confident
Past college of hard knocks and books.
Strides with intelligence and compliment
And even now has quite the good look.
She’s the sun that shows up every morning
Soft beauty and beholding of light.
Sends beams of kindness, wisdom and warming
To the world both exquisite and bright.
Sunshine in morn and in starlight cadre
Circles me to a blissful state
Rides along as my crazy compadre
Is my friend, my lover, my mate.

SILENCE TO THE EVENING
Bring silence to your evening
When no one is around
Alone in contemplation
In this lonely little town
The echoes of each word
Bring shape into the whole
Brush strokes on the canvas
Are remnants of each soul
The first thought of the evening
Tender song hummed by spirit
Delicate intonation of the heart
Heed to life’s fragile lyric
Tame the tale of the minstrel
Troubadour that shouts inside
Shadow spirit must be heard
Let the silence be your guide

SIMPLE LEAF
Simple leaf
In serpent stream
Floating from shore to shore.
Stream of life
Supporting me
Cast me from here to fore.
Moving clouds
First rain shower
Earth is happy to score.
Little bloom
Hidden from sun
Seeking a long downpour.
Grain of sand
Can slip through hand
Water laps onto shore.
Heart of stone
Leaves one alone
Reach out for so much more.
Stars above
Glittering light
Placing hope at my door.
Singing moon
In darkest night
Your love that I adore.

Sunny day
Moves stars away
Opens to so much more.
Hope springs love
In a slight way
Love couldn’t ask much more.

SIX THIS MORNING
This lonely strange trip with the dogs of the night
Where love’s blood is let from the rose’s red thorn
I walk free of chains that once broke my back
Like the lost days of sight before I was born
The wild garden party leaves me in stunned silence
Stupefied by the institutes of the state
Folded hands tightly recoiled by eyes once closed
Mantis prayer facing a paper temple of hate
The wounds of the mother given by robotic moves
An invention of justice by those willing to kill
Love gives to me a heart once removed
Daylight shines into missing a call at will
The midnight blue sky was absent a small star
Burled snugly fitted like a thorny crown
Six this morning by lightening windows, I sit
Sun blasts, sleepy eyes and no one is found.

SOUR CURRANT
Bitter coffee at daybreak
Sour currants every dawn
Between her and me
Reflections of her – gone
Passing now spears into running
Searching for the main road
Bent onto unlikely footpaths
Segments of stories we once told
Damn ocean will recall
Rhythm of a breath squandered
Landings that hold my sorrow
Jittered past images wandered
Lost, lost, repeating ocean winds bluster
Wildness echoes that touch to ground
It’s when I seem to vanish
Broken tears that I have found
Gone, she answers everywhere
Echo silent song once born
Sip sour coffee at daybreak
Bite bitter currants -- each morn.

LISTEN ONE
Listen one
You had her in a spell
and treated her like smack
the wobbly little shell
constant pressure soon did crack
Though pastor wouldn’t know
How she was gripped away
your pint-sized smirk won’t show
Ain’t nothing need we say
Your deed is surely fixed
so pack up in the morn
and dash with gilt and twixt
Sheath of concern unworn
Inaugural trip on road
and jolt your big rig west
still deeming that you’re owed
Naught afore her peaceful rest
Do we each wage the freight
Does karma rank its toll
in this or later state
undertaking of a soul
But there’s a modest fact
an issue to our course
it matters how you act
you cannot adore with force
Listen all

He had her in a spell
and treated her like smack
her brittle little shell
his cargo soon did crack.

STILL DARKNESS
In musty still darkness,
I cast you to the street.
Headlong into wee hours,
Before dawn’s early sleet.
In studio dressed tonight,
My painted circus clown.
The muted light shone dimly,
Onto this state of down.
Motionless cold and silent,
Love stiffens my resolve.
From sacrificial alter,
Stricken a bled absolve.
My dance will remove the mask,
Your fate completely hedged.
Leave the search to dark edges,
Sent in a tattered pledge.
In still musty darkness,
My little circus clown.
Headlong in tiny hours,
Into this state of down.

TANERA MOR
My dear Tanera Mor, Isle of Scotland
As swooping gulls squabble overhead
The bogs carry the scent of myrtle
On a brisk breeze.
Islet of hummocky bogs – bright lochans two
Sun facing lichen-covered rock
As I walk, grasses tremble and crunch
Across these hills.
Grasses judder as winds cast from the ocean
Tadpoles quiver in peaty shallows
A black sheep lies on the distant bluff
A cuckoo calls.
Forward as heather crunches underfoot
Gull dabbles the surface of water
While nightfall inks the tinted sky
From blue to black.
Form ripples in the marsh that reflect the spread
Glitter of starry net overhead
I know that I am home with you,
Tanera Mor.

TWO FINAL CUTS: ODE TO THE DREAM OF
BEING A RODEO COWBOY
To my friends – chords C, G, and F with the Capo at II
Spoken with a twang:
Darling, this just can’t wait
About the dream that I had last night
Wrote a song of our fate
Like my old friend, George Straight
And darling
This one’s for you
Chorus:
Two final cuts that I sang for you, darling
One was red and the other was blue
If it weren’t for love, this would be a happy song
But I sing two final cuts, one for me and for you
It took two of your final cuts, to reach me
In the early morning, when the best time is to cry
In Nashville where I settled down, and lost my only
dream
With a sad song, that squeezed my tears drops dry
Now I’m back on the streets, where I once cut my
chops
And the tele belts out a wailing guitar sound
Lean up against closed doors, when you called
After you finally said, that you’d come around

Chorus:
But I sing two final cuts, one for me and for you
I spent a hundred years in the shadows of last night
Spent time hugging the bottle on my wood floor
You told me it’s not the time, nor the place
Felt like a song, with a minor seventh chord
One cut, is like no hunting season
And the other cut, is like losing my old dog blu
Darling, I looked at a picture of your beautiful face
And I just don’t know what to do.
Chorus:
But I sing two final cuts, one for me and one for you.
Now, Bow to the audience

TWO DECADES AND ONE-HALF
Though I walked alone once a quiet man
the child within me weeps
Until the music played in between
your love is what I seek
Lost sleep in the earliest of my nights
until your love was softly caught
The beauty deep within your eyes
is that eternity that I sought
On knees before the morning light
to live in love’s bright flame
My toil in this current life
only to speak your beautiful name
Until the day that I really know
I will seek to understand
To take comfort in each night’s rest
as my heart is within your hand
The light from your bright blue eyes
is the harvest of my soul
A drop of my heart’s red blood
gives color to this rose
With light and elegant grace
you have lifted my heavy load
On the distance of our long path

you gifted me an easy road
To see and touch your beautiful face
and taste the sugar of ruby lips
To be with you even in the bitterest of days
is like ambrosia of tiny sips
In the past decade and a half
we’ve danced on life’s long floor
Wild and happy always in my dreams
you leave me wanting more.

DREAM TONIGHT
Whisper a dream in my ear tonight
Sweet lover of the world
The voice of my true desires
Untwisted from life’s usual curl
To dream passion for the thing not done
Will grow stronger each and every night
Focus steady in your fantasies
Take action and never lose sight
If life gives you that something
That you rightfully just can’t stand
Step back with a strong intention
Take a meaningful first hand
Be open to love’s discovering
The joy in each minute that passes
The focus on creating joy
Is well beyond the masses
Everything starts with a thought
Good things and even the bad
Form your plans and intentions
Shine joy, even into the sad
Hold onto your strong energy
Feel the chi of happiness grow inside
It will soon morph into a joyful thought
And a smile that you just can’t hide.

THE KEY
There is a door to a seed inside
Inside the seed there is a small key
And that small key is for a rusty tiny lock
And the lock is on a door approaching eternity
There is a treasure that is a flower inside each
beating heart
And the heart lies within our deep blue chest
And inside our breathing chest is held a treasure
And that treasure is a message beating towards
eternity
There is a message that reaches far from beyond
And in that message there is a carefully folded letter
of hope
And in that letter of hope there is a nugget of love
And love is the key that opens the tiny lock to the
treasure held in our hearts towards eternity.

THANK YOU!
Many eBooks are written by ‘ghost writers’. Even
some poetry, short stories and novellas are written by
ghost writers by a few who’s only wish is to profit from
a large casting of many eBooks. Right or wrong, I
write each of my books from the ground up without
using ghost writers. What you get with each of my
eBooks is what I’ve written – right or wrong.
I intention to write in a straight-forward and honest
way to share love and human emotion. I love words
and writing. And, I offer this eBook with the intention
that you get much from my work.
Also, please check my blogs including my poetry blog
-- Cowboy Haiku (link: http://www.cowboyhaiku.com )
for additional poems. I use the Cowboy Haiku blog as
a place where I can review and vet my newest work. I

use the blog as a place where I can see, in two
dimensions, what my work looks like. Poetry does
take on a different shape and feel when it’s been
posted and published. I use the blog as a way to
revisit my intention with each poem and to modify, if
necessary, so that the intention for the poem is clear
and communicates a message or emotion. Please
stop by and feel free to comment.
I hope you have enjoyed this small book of poetry and
I look forward to our future conversations.
Thanks!
Ron McFarland
Email: highervista@gmail.com

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ron McFarland is a dedicated writer. He has written
for academic and technical journals. He has also
written several Information Technology books for
students of Information Technology, Computer
Security, and Computer Forensics. Additionally, he
has served as a technical editor for several technical
book publishers.
Most importantly, because of Ron’s love of the written
word, he has written hundreds of poems (several of
which are published in this book) and several short
stories.
His blogs (technical and fiction/poetry writings) are:
 Poetry and brief prose:
http://www.cowboyhaiku.com
 Fiction Writing (short stories, etc.):
http://www.rottonronnie.com
 A contemporary discussion of the Spirit:
http://www.buddahcat.com

 Information Technology, Information Security,
and Digital Forensics articles, eBooks, etc.:
http://www.wrinkledbrain.com
Please stop by, read and comment. He would love to
hear from you.

OTHER BOOKS BY RON MCFARLAND
TECHNICAL BOOKS
 How to start a Computer Forensics Business:
A Small Business Success Guide:
http://amzn.to/2gZEjwR
 Information Security Basics: Fundamental
Reading for InfoSec Including the CISSP,
CISM, CCNA-Security Certification Exams:
http://amzn.to/2gTCcMk
 Introduction to Software Development: A
Prelude to Creating Applications:
http://amzn.to/2glZSbg
 Personal Information Security: An Introduction
for the Individual and Small Business Owner:
http://amzn.to/2gA63Ls
 An Introduction to Using BitCoin and other
eCoin Options: The Revolution of Electronic
Currencies: http://amzn.to/2gTCNNV
FICTION, NON-FICTION AND POETRY BOOKS
 Happy, I am: Lessons from a Near Death
Experience: http://amzn.to/2gNmhyK
 Love and Silence: Selected poems of Ron
McFarland: http://amzn.to/2gzUnse

ONE LAST THING...
If you enjoyed this book or found it useful I’d be very
grateful if you’d post a short review on Amazon. Your
support really does make a difference and I read all
the reviews personally so I can get your feedback and
make this book even better.
If you’d like to leave a review then all you need to do
is click the review link on this book’s page on Amazon
here: http://amzn.to/2h5R5hl
Thanks again for your support!

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