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ayaz daryl nielsen


Three Short Poems

The ballad of our hearts
endowing and inhabiting
touching and melting
two who have met
taking the world in hand
forgetting nothing
forgiving everything
embellishing salt-sweetness
while turning love into ink.


words for poems just 
appear in my mind, a 
mind of stored antiquities-
genuine existence 
within one-sided 
conversations


fools love everything
seeing all that is hidden
they just may be saints
​

Three Short Poems

our rancher uncle             
as the cancer advances
I drive the pickup
on a last outdoor errand
checking on his newborn calves


‘the point being’
bringing us back
to what we were
trying to avoid 

​
vagabond scripture
following only trail winds
world-rough and renewed 
​

this evening

this evening
cat
thinks of
cat
light, drizzly 
rain
spider web 
flutters
from a corner
of the ceiling
a web  
I could
remove,
yet, was 
here with 
grandmother
a web
my grand-
mother knew. . .
so, just this
cat, rain,
and web
the poetry 
of an evening
​

We are all here, the houses are full

We are all here, the houses are full
and as you enter our living rooms
where you can see behind the faces
all that will be, often,
it makes you weep.
​

further

unkempt words, joining
unfolding, becoming
wayward byways
of resilience, of
heightened awareness,
seemingly pursued
to further
resplendent
byways
   beckoning 
      from just beyond
         an everyday thought

Close, sultry afternoon

​close, sultry afternoon
a windmill daydreams of its  
rain-bowed multi-winged hero
flitting, scrabbling dragonfly
​

Otiose

Often I go to the mountain
and lean against
quiet rock
quiet rocks that
rose from the earth 
millions of years ago

Again, a black brim hat
for damp morning mist
a quiet rock
to lean against
beneath aspen leaves
among aster, columbine,
pasque and penstemon

Maybe there’s more I can do
beyond what I have willed
and may have accomplished

Resting beside quiet rock
that rose from the earth
millions of years ago
Plenty enough for this fine day.
​

Now and Then

The music has lasted since 
women in green and a boy 
in baggy trousers, eternal spirits 
of a chainless mind, tread 
through the half-light of waves 
and blue winds and a sun 
rising and setting, of cheap seats 
with a good view, of wild horses, 
blue dragonflies, ristras, nutmeg 
sticks, a small shop under the stairs.
Poets will never lie as they praise 
those whose music has lasted 
since the world began.  And the 
music, it happens now and then.
​
Picture


​ayaz daryl nielsen's profile

Five Haiku

old wallpaper
the soiled and faded roses
how to say good-bye

      ❧

how do I love you?
both silly and serious
and still unfolding

      ❧
​earth is all tidy

clean linens and dishes washed
now let’s take a break

            ❧

the world’s steady hum
her lovely beaches and slopes
even garden weeds

            ❧

bring me upriver
erase my grey hairs and thoughts
tell me my story

The days, so cold

The days, so cold
The nights, so long
Another tundra
wind from
above timberline
Wild geese and
blue heron
gone
months ago,
black bear, deep
asleep
Mule deer and elk
hiding
among pine and
leafless aspen
The clock ticks
toward midnight
The year ends
Here, beside this
glowing hearth 
you gently 
place your lips 
on mine
​

The Tao of Brokenness 

​A broken hub, thirty spokes
without a center
The wheel couldn’t turn nor
remain upright if
it was to be used
The clay pot with a crack
across the bottom would just
drip and seep, even
if it was needed
An old homestead without
windows  doors  roof  flooring
or the people to
claim it as home

empty of emptiness
because of brokenness
non-existence from
lack of usefulness

each, in its isolation,
an exhilaration
a clarity
the adventure 
of broken existence
​

everyone, a neighbor

born in the heart of 
these Sand Hills 
on a remote ranch  
homesteaded by our 
Danish grandparents, 
life as cattleman and
beloved uncle, sturdy 
friend of neighbors 
surrounded by all 
who loved him
as a lifespan ends
Uncle Arnold, you 
were what poetry is
​

the bear in heavy fur

The bear in heavy fur licks its lips and
dreams the taste of berries on bushes
Wildflower seeds waiting below white-
washed chapels of frozen snow listen
to voices of wild geese and wood ducks
carried within an early chinook wind
Humbled, I pour a second cup of coffee,
again renew my promise to keep the
wondrous faith of this earth and my
loved ones, and add a splash of cream.
​

A memory as she crosses the street

under heavy wool blankets in a
       small mountain cabin teasing
       with her breasts ‘just try to say
       no to these - and to this’ as
       she lowers her lips and chill
       midwinter drafts couldn’t touch
       the fire of our long embrace
Her stride is still long
       vibrant and confident
   
I call her name, she stops
       we could hug and talk
       and then...
       cars honking
We could walk
       each
       our own way...
       and yet...

Our stride is long
       vibrant and confident
       as we move toward us
       as we safely cross

As traffic begins
       moving again.
​

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