The sun has begun its annual hiding today,
nigh on to the cold season, December,
when \nature’s beauty will obscure itself
beneath gray clouds dimmed by rain or snow
and men hide themselves behind walls’ warmth.

The blanket of leaves resting below trees,
but skeletons of near bare limbs,
only a few colored leaves hang grimly
above a brown blanket of their brethern below,
waiting to go aloft on a next eddying wind.

Nature and ploughman alike must rest,
both to regain strength for another season

And the ploughmen’s women
continue to labor on without rest.
Tain’t fair.

gus daum

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When life seems hard
and days look grim,
return to your center,
return to your soul

Once within, where all is well,
open yourself to heartfelt joy.
Laugh out loud and sing all day.
Teach your soul to play.

Walk barefoot in dew wet grass.
Smile real wide to all who pass.
Clap your hands and tap your toes.
Teach your soul to play.

Return again to who you are,
Filled with wonder, love and awe.
Look within, but glow outside.
Show the world you play.

Gus Daum

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In setting out to declaim
we too often only maim
the language of our native tongue.

It was in offer of pure discourse
in prose, in song, in poet’s voice
that brings some here, who are terse.

The multitudes or eager few
assembled now to learn what’s new,
hear but trite phrases, empty words.

Naïve, tis said, to hope and pray
for deeper meaning in what I say.
Words are easy, writing’s hard.

Gus Daum

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Pirouettes. A poetic form, 10 lines, 6 syllables per line; Line 5 & 6 identical.
Lines 1 to 4 in contrast to Lines 6 to 10.


An ordinary day,
no unusual plans
but good things might happen
in all our blessed lives
when simply left to be
when simply left to be
Plant seed of secret joy
secure it in your mind
nourish it, fulsome heart
allow it; it will come.


Strong muscled men or boys
flinging bodies. demon speed
strain to overpower
with force akin to war.
Athletes in common form.
Athletes in common form,
Dainty bodies in full flight
cavort ‘cross padded mat
pirouette on a beam
twisting turning beauty.

Gus Daum

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There are those who dance with Shadows,
those hidden beings lurking within
only a breath away in mind,
a lurking danger to outer selves,
hidden behind the facade
we wish the world to see.

Gus Daum

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Sometimes I hear music,
sweet symphonies of sound
–heart tones
unheard by others
just as I cannot hear
their heart tones.

It comes in soft pulsing sound
that invades one’s spirit
when we meld fully with Earth
see and feel her wholeness,
see meaningful contrast in noxious weeds
that coexist in comfort with daisies,
among fully fruited trees,
fragrant blossoms on roses
muddy rivers flowing lazily
to be refreshed in an angry sea.

Gus Daum

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It’s the tuba that I love,
its deep and heavy sound.
Not enough, mellow trombone
sliding somewhere ‘round.

Let the flute soar truly high,
lovely though it sings,
add a group of violins,
rosin strumming strings.

The raucous blare of trumpet
with eighth and quarter notes
and the resonance of cello
might also get your votes.

But trust my friend, the tuba
ever sturdy in its place,
a constant source of volume
to provide a solemn base.

Gus Daum

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