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Phil Pochurek

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Eugene, OR, US

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Cyber Byte

by

Phil Pochurek

Touch my keys
To hear your lust
I'm your cellular phone
A millennium must.
In your office, in your car, anytime
For safe sex at your finger tips,
With someone you can trust,
With your body, your mind .
Reach out with androgynous ears
Release yourself and have no fears,
The possibilities are endless.
Touch me. Touch me.
You're binary now
Fiber optically linked.
Your hard drive humming
On your lap/top.
Your mind is melding
While your fingers are screaming
Across the keys.
You're a sexual thesaurus
A siren of titan, with word wrap.
Every one knows the best sex goes on
Behind the eyes,
Behind the semi colons:
Behind the backslash/me with ecstasy.
The call of the Pentium
Cannot be denied.
I've tried other drugs
To help me subside,retreat,let go,
But there's no where to hide
From your mind.
Once you're caught in the net
And you've been fellated
There's no going back.
You're all ready castrated
By the convenience of your touch.
No condoms to buy, you've got a modem.
No sheets, no bed, you've got a web-site instead,
Virus protected and clean.
In the comfort of your PC's womb
Alone with your desires
Ramming home bits of testostrone,
Like pieces of wood
You feed her fires.
Cyber Bytes the hand that guides you
Over the claw marks
Down the back of your screen save/her,
But nobody can.
Touch me. Touch me.

A Ghost Of You

by

Phil Pochurek

I never paid much attention
To time, before I met you.
Then the value of every hour, every minute
That I could spend with you
Became clear to me,
And I'm reminded of how much I miss you
When you're not here.
There's a ghost of you
In your perfume
In the bath, from your wake,
When you left the room, only moments before.
That is so sweet, so fresh
I can still see your image
In the steam, on the mirror,
Over your lipstick kiss
That was left for me there.
And as I press my lips to the glass
For one last taste of you,
I'm reminded again of all the reasons,
For all the things that you do.
Why I'm kissing your lips
When you're not even here.

The Tom Thumb 500

by

Phil Pochurek

With a kiss
I'm off.
Over and through the tiny cracks
And alley ways
In the palm of your hand.
Around and behind
To the smooth back streets
On the back of your hand.
Across the wrist and up
The long straight away
Of your slender forearm,
To the unpredictable, sometimes
Right angle curve of your elbow.
Trying to stay on the road
On my way past
Your pink cashmere mountains,
And by their valley of no return.
I slowly slide out
And around soft shoulders
On my way to the finish line.
Up the nape of your neck, around
And behind your ear.
Past your checkered flag earings
Through your finish line perfume
And into your heart.
With a kiss.

Dancing In The Fire

by

Phil Pochurek

We gather wood
In acts and deeds
To suit our purpose
And fulfill our needs.
Memories to burn
When we get old
To keep us warm
When we're alone and cold.
The road we take
Is the one we choose
Let the truth be your guiding light,
Keep the lies from out of your heart
Or you could lose
And be lost,in the darkness, of the night.
Each lie is a step
Down the flaming path of deceit,
It's hard to tell where your going
When the path is burning your feet.
It's like the death
Of a loved one, of a friend,
When you can't tell where the truth stops
And the lies begin.
When one person knows
The other one is a liar
Through the smoke
The truth is hard to see,
Until you're gone
And they stand alone
Dancing in the fire.

The Warriors Dance

by

Phil Pochurek

They came to the lake
From out of the woods.
Across green lawns
By picnic tables and swings,
To the waters edge.
Not too silent, but unseen.
Of course they were drunk.
Then naked as the full moon
That glistened on their chiseled bodies
While they swam, laughing,
All the way back to shore.
Like two ancient warriors
Their bodies cleansed, their spirits reborn
Their hearts open, bared to each other
Unfettered by the lives they now lead,
Momentarily left behind them, in the dark.
They wrestled and howled into the night.
Reuniting and bonding in spirit, in flesh.
Rolling on the grass, contemplating the moon.
Revisiting a past, long before
The stars had their names.
Then dancing, arms raised for flight
They plunged back into the lake,
Smooth as glass, still warm from the sun.
Their ancient rite over
Just as it had begun.

The Long Road Home

by

Phil Pochurek

I watched my dad as he got older
Put his arm around my waist
And his head on my shoulder,
Then ask me who I was.
We would go for a walk
Or just sit and talk,
About nothing in particular.
About nothing at all.
But with feeling, and heart, that was dad.
Memories of people and places, lost in time.
Lost in his mind and gradually slipping away.
Everyday is a struggle, a challenge
Filled with anxieties and too many choices.
A stranger to himself, lost in his own home.
Going home, gotta go, gotta go
Every half hour he's gotta go, home.
But he never will.
For him each day, will always stay
Just out of reach, out of touch
With the world as we know it.
And I wonder as I help him dressing
If this isn't just a blessing, in disguise.
And I'm sorry dad has to go this way
But I'll be here for him
Like he was for me, until the day
He finally goes home.

Phoenix Rising

by

Phil Pochurek

Shhhhhhhhhh
I can hear the flowers in your hair
Whispering the scent of their love song
In perfect harmony with your beauty
When I hold you in my arms.
And when you smile
Their petals gently kiss your cheek
With a pastel of color.
The fire of passion
Glows bright in your eyes
Burning on the shores of your desire,
It is here my Phoenix has come to rise.
I'm lost in your love
And consumed by your fire.

I'm Always With You

by

Phil Pochurek

I'll be the mirror you hold in your hand
Just to look into your eyes
Just to gaze upon your face,
While you make all the right adjustments
To your lips, to your hair, to your eyes
Putting everything in place.
I'll be the perfume you wear each day
Just a drop between your breasts,
That makes you feel that special way
When ever we caress.
A scent to remind you
Right next to your heart,
When ever I'm away from you
That we're never apart.
I'll be the silk you wear each night
Can you feel your skin against mine?
With every step you take, every move you make
I'll hold you close until the next time
We are one.

My Solemn Vow

by

Phil Pochurek

I give you my heart
So that you may know my soul,
I give you my hand
So that you may take part,
In my life.
I give you my love
So that you can feel
My strengh,and trust in me
All that is you.
And together we'll live in love
Through the Lord.
And in doing so
Our faith will be replenished
With hope,
And our doubts and fears
Will disappear, into the shadows of the past,
Forever behind us, never to find us.
You're at home in my arms at last.

The Man In The Moon

by

Phil Pochurek

It's another one of those hot summer nights
When you're in and out of sleep,
And the moonlight glistens
Off the sweat on your back
As you're throwing off the sheets.
Such a gentle sigh
Can barely be heard
With a touch from my finger tips,
While I'm tracing the moonlight
Across the backs of your thighs
And around the curves of your hips.
When gently you turn
And roll on your back
Bringing your breasts into view,
What a delicious offering they are to me.
And a beautiful compliment to you.
I wish that I could be the moon
And bathe you in my light
Fill every pore of your skin, and more
On this long hot summer night.

Autumn Haze

by

Phil Pochurek

Caught in the rising glance
Of a burgundy moon,
Is the lenient odor of burning wheat.
Calico leaves play
Merrily in the forest
Each their own painting,
Making a canvas of whatever thay touch.
The moon having long since died
Sheds his deathly pale light,
Over an open meadow.
It is here the deer have come to graze
In a breath of smoke,
In a rustle of leaves,
A most pleasingly subtle Autumn Haze.

The Lion And The Dove

by

Phil Pochurek

Have you noticed there's a change in your reflection
Of the way that you look in my eyes,
I'm possessed when you smile in my direction
By your thick golden hair, the curve of your breasts,
And the lure of your slightly parted thighs.
You're the fire in the skin of my erection
The desire in the blood of my soul,
In my fantasies eye of perfection
You can take me beyond all control.
How I long for the scent of your passion
And the taste of your salt on my skin,
Bring your lotus from out of her shadows
And my lion from out of his den.
I love the power in your beauty
And the magic in the way you make love,
You are the fire that I carry deep inside of me
I am your lion, and you are my dove.

You Finally Know

by

Phil Pochurek

I missed you this morning
Only you were there.
You went through all the motions
Just for me,
Only you didn't care.
I know you tried
* You wanted me to be there
But your feelings couldn't hide
What's not in your heart.
That empty space inside
Where I use to be.
Did you think because it was dark
That I couldn't see
The good-bye look in your eyes
That was meant for me.
I could taste it on your lips
And feel it in your touch,
I wanted to stop but I love you so much
I wanted to be as close to you
As I could be.
I had to know if its really true
If its really over,
If you're really through, with me.
And I don't know what to do,
Where to go.
It's so lonely when at last
You finally know.

The Bath

by

Phil Pochurek

I took my oldness
Into the tub
To watch my wrinkles dissappear
As I began to soak and scrub,
Away the day
From under my nails.
And as the steam
Rose from my bath
With eyes closed I lay back
Afloat,adrift,
In a sea of lavender.
Oils and salts
From the far east
Soften my skin
As I become lost in the moment.
Alone with just my breath
Without thoughts, cares
To distract me from this peace,
Of heaven.
From this temporary womb
I'm born again.
In the aftermath, in the afternoon,
After my bath.

A Toast

by

Phil Pochurek

How many years will you spend together
Nobody really knows.
You plant a seed of love and hope for the best
Then live your lives and watch it grow.
And though each of you will change a little
For better or worse, in sickness and in health
May the friends you make and the times you share
Be the measure of your wealth.
The happiness you have found together
And the memories of the childern you've raised
All come together on this day.
So here's to a couple that have made it
Together you have built a golden past.
May your days ahead be just as fulfilling
And the bounty you receive
From the harvest of your love,
forever last.

Good Bye Mary

by

Phil Pochurek

The long days of waiting are over
Now at last there's an end to all her pain,
Her life was so dear
To all she was near
Now it's hard on the ones who remain.
We all loved her
For making us smile,
With her humor and sensitive wit
Like the sunshine around you
Her love would surround you,
She was someone you never forget.
When the tears of her passing have faded
In the wake of her sweet release,
Think of life everlasting for Mary
Full of Joy, full of Love, full of Peace.

Reflections of Love

by

Phil Pochurek

Such a simple beauty you possess
So subtle, so pure, so rare.
From your emerald eyes
To your gypsy smile,
Behind your crimson shouldered hair.
Your fragrance fills the morning
As you slowly begin to dress,
My eyes are fixed upon you
Can you feel their warm caress .
Then with delicate precision
You begin to wash your face
Every line and curve a work of art,
While your fingers gently erase
Yesterdays dreams and fantasies,
From last nights resting place.
Your chemise hangs openly waiting
In a blush of pink pastel
To embrace your supple bosom,
Whose shape it knows so well.
Do you feel my eyes.
Can you see my face,
Do you know that I'am here?
I'm waiting for you, my lovely one
It is you that I long to be near.
Your stockings hang loosely from the curtain rod
Shadow dancing in the morning sun.
Beside them garters of French satin and lace
Are patiently waiting to take the shape,
Of the woman who will slip them on.
Your long slender legs, have a sensual style
Even when their standing in place.
I can almost hear the song that your singing
A sweet love song from long ago,
It reminds me of when we were lovers
My desire is beginning to show.
How lovingly you hold your silver brush
While you stroke your scarlet hair,
And sit behind your dressing table
In front of an antique mirror.
Can you see my passionate reflection
Through your curtains, from your window, up the stairs?
If only I could feel you in my arms again
It's been too long, I'm so alone, I wish that I was there.
To hold you close, and hear you laugh,
Whisper secrets in your ear.
See the look in your eyes, when you realize
That it was me, standing over here.
I'd love to be kissing the back of your neck
Taste the salt from your ecstasy tears
Can you see me, do you know what I'm doing
As I watch you, while I sit in this chair?
Yes I love you and this game that your playing
Your excitement, my desire, and the fear,
Of your feeling that someone is watching you
While your dressing, through your window, in your mirror.

Incubus

by

Phil Pochurek

I will come to you
In the peace of your dreams
As a whisper on your lips,
And stroke the hair
From out of your face
Just to feel your finger tips.
When you reach for me
In the empty air
But only touch yourself,
The love that you feel
Is all that you need
To know that I am real.
I will take control of your desire
And bring it into bloom
For I am now the lust you feel
Beneath the silk, behind the passion,
In the deepest part of you.
With each caress your pleasure grows
How I love to share your touch,
When you stroke your thighs
Feel your breasts fall and rise,
Of the feeling that you love so much.
And when you have reached and satisfied
My lust with your desires
Don't look for me with open eyes,
I'm in the air you breathe
And the heat you feel,
In the touch that makes you sigh.

Desert Moon

by

Phil Pochurek

It's one o'clock in the morning
In the light
Of an August full moon,
And it's eighty degrees
Even with a slight breeze
And your wide awake,
It might as well be noon.
It's too hot to sleep
And your sheets are all wet
So your naked out on the deck,
Using the stars for your blanket
With watermellon dripping off your chin
And sweat running down
The back of your neck.
What a delicious summer morning
For such a succulent moonlight treat.
You never looked more natural, more sexy,
Than when your naked , while you eat.
I'm beginning to like this heat.
The sweat glistening off your body
Under the white of a desert full moon
Sparkles like diamonds on your skin
While I'm tracing the outline of your shadow
With my eyes,I can smell you,
Just a hint, just a whisper, of jasmine.
The desert was never more beautiful
Then it was on that August night,
Watching you eating your watermellon
Stark naked in the full moon light.
And your jasmine will remind me
Of your watermellon kisses
That sweetened my lips
And quenched my thirst
Long into the night.
And the stars above
When we made love
In the desert, in the heat,
Of the full moon light.

In the Darkest Hour

by

Phil Pochurek

In the darkest hour
Before the dawn
While the dew is just settling
Out on the lawn
She reaches for me.
And in my dreams
The channel changes
Images fade
As she rearanges my dreams,
To suit her needs.
Not quite awake
But not asleep
Ever so slowly
Her images creep,
From out of the darkness
From out of the heat
And into the view
Of my minds eye.
There's a sense of rhythm
I'm starting to note
And a feeling of heat, of urgency,
As I start to float
Down a river of passion.
Gently rocking over her waves
I can feel the current
That drives me now.
Pounding faster and harder
Upon my bow
Recklessly rocking our boat.
Racing towards the rivers bend
Past the point of no return
There's no looking back
To where we began,
As we tumble from our boat
And begin to swim, for our lives.
Gasping for breath
With every stroke
We scream and moan
As we race for shore.
Then suddenly our river is gone.
Over a cliff, off a waterfall
As we spill into the dawn.
And with a splash of great release
We fall head long
Into the quiet, into the peace
Of a deep, dark, pool below,
Our conciousness.
Now like the dew upon the lawn
Our urgency, the heat of passion gone
We slip to the bottom of this primal pool
In a lovers embrace
Beyond dreams, beyond fears, beyond rules.
Totally still and out of breath
In sleep released from all her power.
Into a sleep, near that of death,
Before the dawn
In the darkest hour.

Autumn Leaves Falling

by

Phil Pochurek

The days are shorter now
And the winter wind is calling
All the colors from the trees.
It's a sound that no one hears
Of autumn leaves falling
But everybody sees.
The fall of summer
And all its sunsets
Caught up in the leaves.
Like a million Polaroid snapshots.
In a blaze of glory
Setting fire to everything they touch
Smoldering on the ground.
Waiting to be raked into great flaming piles
And burned at the turn of the season.
At the drop of a match.
All that summer shade
Up in smoke.

In the Mirror

by

Phil Pochurek

In the mirror
There are no lies.
Behind the beard
Under the makeup
And through the eyes
All that is you is here,
Is there, in the mirror.
The childhood dreams
The adolescent ideals
The adult realities of today,
Are all there to be seen
In a world of reflection.
With every wrinkle, in every scar,
They tell us where we've been,who we are.
The way others see you
The way you see yourself
The way you really are, up close and personal.
At five o'clock in the morning,
Before work or after a party,
This is a warning, a reality check.
No holds barred.
A real ego blaster for the week of character.
The terminally vain.
Day after day, year after year
Your life goes on,
And it's all right there
In the mirror.

In the Wake of a Woman

by

Phil Pochurek

There's something about
The wake of a woman,
When she walks by.
The magic in her step
The fragrance of her scent
The twinkle in her eye,
And the hint of her essence
She leaves behind.
When you've held a door
To let her pass.
Stood back to let her
Have your place in line,
You know what I mean.
An empty hall, an elevator, a phone booth
Where she had just been
A heartbeat ago,
You know what I mean.
There's no denying this wonder of nature
That we all enjoy being near,
Our mothers, our daughters,
Our sisters, lovers, and wives,
All touch us in so many ways.
Like the tail of a comet
Flying over and around us.
Like the call of the ocean
Pulling us towards her
With her infinite tides,
Beyond our control.
I'm forever amazed and lost
In the wonder of you.
In awe of your power of the moment
By just being who you are
A woman.

Waterfall

by

Phil Pochurek

Almost silently
Like a gentle whisper
A creek flows out
From the heart of a mountain.
Over smooth stones
And through green ferns
By trees that have seen a hundred lifetimes.
Winding its way down the mountain
Through forest and fields
The creek gathers speed
And becomes a stream
Which becomes a river.
Racing towards a distant shore
And a moment of truth.
Exploding through the ferns and trees
Over a cliff
The river leaves its familiar bed
Without hesitation, with all its power, with a roar of release
To a deep pool below.
And the river is transformed
In a leap of faith
From its earth bound shores,
Up to the sky and back again.
Its secrets are told to all,
In the power of the moment
In the glimpse of a rainbow,
In the mist of a waterfall.

At the Rivers Bend

by

Phil Pochurek

Every day as I pass by
Going to or from my life,
The river waits for me.
At dawn or dusk it's always there
For me to see, for me to hear
Its ever lasting cry.
Its constant flow
Is the rhythm of life.
Ever changing
Ever the same
Never asking me why I came,
The river knows.
I come to the river to fuel my soul
To feel life's pulse
To make me whole,
At the end of everyday.
And the river tells me
What I need to know.
That its OK to just let go,
And quiets my thoughts with its soothing flow,
Then carries me away.
There's no beginning and there is no end
To this river that runs through my soul,
And tomorrow I'll be back again
To fill me up and make me whole,
At the rivers bend.

The Art of You

by

Phil Pochurek

I would like to know your heart one day
And all that grows deep inside it.
Learn the special way you hide it.
How you came to know the love you do,
Teach me the art you of you.
In return for all that I am.
I want to learn the things you know
And hear of the places you've been.
Learn the gift you share for letting go
While still holding so much in.
I feel the power in your smile
And see the truth shinning bright in your eyes.
When you touch me I know that where ever I go,
It is you that I must realize.
Show me your fantasy garden
Tell me your secret desires.
Teach me the ways of your senses.
Take me beyond all control.
I want to consume all your knowledge
Share your wisdom and sensitive way.
Bear the fruits of a passionate lifetime,
Be with you till the very last day.
You know that time is like magic
It's never quite what it seems.
Let's share the joy together
Of one day becoming our dreams.
I could never recover without you
My life was never like this,
It was I who was consumed when I met you
By your eyes, by your touch, by your kiss.

Indian Summer

by

Phil Pochurek

It's a crisp autumn sunrise
As a sweet September fog settles gently
On your sweater,
And hangs in the curls of your hair.
Then in an angels breath
The dew on the roses
Melts over each petal,
Like a kiss.
Waiting for the morning sun
To bring it full circle,
Releasing its embrace to the season.
Back into the air
With the scent of roses,
The scent of everything it touches,
That is fall.
While the sun turns the leaves and pumpkins orange
And the last of the tomatos red.
By the afternoon
The fog is gone
And it's way too hot to have anything on,
Except a smile.
It's the summer hanging on
That makes you sweat,
Reminding you it's not over yet.
When there's Indian corn
Dancing in the sunset
Of an Indian summer.

Ode to a Opossum

by

Phil Pochurek

Blinding lights
And careless metal
Make instant victims
Out of innocent opossums.
Mindless machines
With thin cold blood
Do as they're told.
But who tells the opossum?
Open roads
Makes faster cars
And sudden stops...obsolete.
But no one tells the opossum.

Faded Dreams

by

Phil Pochurek

You know I'm a curse .
To your heart, to your head
And yet you still remain,
Trying to do your part.
Always the mother dearest
Always the good lover in bed,
But it still can't stop the pain
From running through your thoughts.
Flooding your heart with the sadness
Of one day breaking away
From the whispers, from the shadows
Of your desires
To the quiet of your dreams.
Then one day
Following the peace of your own free will,
You go where you want to go
And be who you really are.

A Thief in the Night

by

Phil Pochurek

It's three o'clock in the morning
And your wide awake .
She's sleeping right next to you
You can feel her heat .
She dreams in Braille
So you can read her thoughts .
In the dark , with your fingertips ,
As you begin to plot , your desires .
Blinded by testosterone eyes
You reach for her ,
Then you think not
As she gently sighs ,
And slowly turns away.
Stealing from you
Your fire, your lust ,
Slowly ever slowly
Taking back her trust,
Then drifting back to her sleep .
Like A theif in the night
With your soul to keep,
Out of your grasp
Out of your reach .
In a sea of sheets
She's lost,in her dream's of you .

Ariel

by

Phil Pochurek

It was a winters moon
And nearly full
On the morning that you were born,
And every star that was in the sky
Came out to be counted.
I whispered a prayer
In the cool moonlight
To welcome you to this world,
And to let you know
How much you were wanted.
While back inside
Your mother paced the floor
With calm determination,
She was ready now
To hold you in her arms.
It had been nine months
To the very day
That she carried you in her womb,
Now the time had come at last
For you to be.
With the sureness of a mothers love
She bore you into this world.
A perfect babe, a beautiful girl
You were a wonder to behold.
From a smile in your mothers heart
To a tear of joy in your fathers eye,
Her labor of love was over
The moment we heard you cry.
Then we held you up a fine baby girl
Something we both could tell,
And as we laid you on your mothers breast
We called you by your name,"Ariel".
We waited so long for our prayers to be answered
Then you came into our life
Now all that really matters to us is you.
You brighten up our every day
And give purpose to our lives,
You're the happiness
Behind everything we do.

A Pair of Hearts

by

Phil Pochurek

I always smile at a pretty girl
It's a reflex
But you should know that.
I smiled at you didn't I ?
A long time ago.
And I smiled at someone deep inside you
Just waiting for the right moment
To come out.
And when she did, a star was born.
You brought her into this world.
See what a little smile can do
When it comes from the heart.
Nothing before and nothing since
Has touched my life
The way the two of you have.
You're my night and day.
The things I do
And the things I say.
You're in my arms when I'm at home
And in my heart when I'm away.
What a pair of hearts you make.
What a sight to behold,
One in red high heels
One in red bows.
One gets candy
And one gets a rose.
Happy Valentines Day girls.
Come to daddy.
Don't be bashful
Remember, it shows.

When the Words Come

by

Phil Pochurek

Where will you be
When the words come?
Driving home late at night
In the rain,
With the steering wheel in your hands
Talking to yourself again.
Finally able to express your pain
Without going numb.
Hypnotized by the center line
Into your confessions.
Trying to rationalize, remove,
Your indiscretions
Like a stain from your conscience.
So you can look in the mirror again
Without regret, shame, disgust,
The guilt of knowing you were wrong,
While you stuffed yourself
On their praise, their trust.
You slew the truth
As if it were a dragon,
With your evil words
And won.
And no one knew,
What you had done
But you.
Where will you be
When the words come?

Somethings Wrong

by

Phil Pochurek

Somethings wrong
When your sex drives
Away from you
In that shinny red sports car of youth.
Off in another direction.
Leaving you empty handed.
Alone with yourself.
Without any desires, or fantasies
Without an erection,
Or anyone to share it with.
So you try to think
When the last time was
You even had those kind of feelings,
But it doesn't matter.
That was another chapter
In your private book of passion plays,
Of loves disasters, and lust.
Put away on the back shelf
Of your memories closet,
To hide from the pain of remembering
And gather dust.
All are gone
But not forgotten.
In time your heart will release that pain
Heal itself and be ready again
To open, with just the right word
The right touch.
But to ask your mind
To forget the past and forgive yourself
May be asking way too much.
Alone again you look around
And realize whats missing,
The warmth of her touch
The sound of her voice,
And her lips.
Her lips you should be kissing
But haven't for so long,
Somethings Wrong.

Twice In Twenty Minutes

by

Phil Pochurek

I know that touch
When you reach for me,
To arouse me from my sleep.
It's the subtle grip
Of your smooth hand, your rhythm,
That brings me back
From the edge of my dreams,
And into the heat of the moment,
And your need.
No matter that we had just finished
A marathon bout of sexual acrobatics
Straight out of the Kama Sutra.
You weren't finished with me yet
And wanted more.
Like a woman possessed, driven,
With an insatiable appetite.
Reaching for the bliss.
The ecstasy hidden deep
Within the center of your being.
Ready to do what ever it takes
To unleash it, in a tidal wave of passion.
Those familiar ripples of pleasure
That curl your lip
And shorten your breath,
Until you cry out
In a lovers voice.
And your tears of joy
Are set free, again.
Raining down on my chest
Showering me with your love,
Filling my heart
With all that is you.

Seascape

by

Phil Pochurek

Endless blue, somewhat surroundings,
And instant white
Take my time away.
An early mornings journeys end
Explodes with anticipation.
A soothing breeze and occasional mist
Refresh my thoughts, and salt my tongue.
While sand fills my shoes with memories.
Miles I have come to know the sea
And from sun to sun I shall remain with her,
And the sea will remain with me.

The Sea

by

Phil Pochurek

Blue and green on the rocks
Crashing into instant white.
Infinite waves
Caress my ears in their loving rhythm.
While my eyes
Grow drunk with beauty.

Age Old Stories

by

Phil Pochurek

In early October
The new moon sits low
In the autumn sky,
Barely a sliver to be seen
With the naked eye,
And waits for the show to begin.
Slowly the stars begin to come out
To tell their age old stories
Long into the night.
Dancing and shooting off into the horizon
While the moon slowly slips into the sea
And out of sight.
Whispering farewell, whispering goodnight.
Leaving the stars alone with me
Just to watch them play.

Kiss Me

by

Phil Pochurek

Kiss me
Run from me
And I will follow you
Until I fall apart.
Kiss me
Run to me
And I will hold you in my arms
With all my heart.
Just to see you smile
Just to hear you sing.
Kiss the tears of winter
From your cheeks.
Brush the petals of spring
From your hair.
Kiss you deep enough
To know
That I'm the one,
Kiss you long enough
To know
I'll always be there, for you.
Where ever you go.
What ever you do.
Kiss me.

Running On The Otherside

by

Phil Pochurek

Your days are spent now mostly sleeping
Off in dreams where old dogs go.
Running chasing,on familar paths
To the lakes and rivers, the ones you know.
Half-blind, its hard to see
Half-deaf, its hard to hear.
Some days you're doing better
And others, you're too tired to care.
But in your dreams you're young again
Chasing seagulls on the beach,
Where from your bed, comes muffled barks.
Legs flailing, eyes a flutter
Chasing something just out of reach.
It's an easy place to go to
No aching muscles there.
You can run and bark all day long
And no one seems to care.
Then the laughter crashes in on you
You've been chasing in your sleep.
You're dignity gone
But your sole lingers on
While I pet you and quietly weep.
Now every time you close your eyes
You're where you want to be,
You sleep more now than your awake
More than you're with me.
I'll miss you when you don't come back
>From your favorite place to hide
But I'll always know that you're waiting for me,
Running on the other side.

Farewell Doc

by

Phil Pochurek

In the middle of a crismon August sunset
The flocks of geese are growing
Into what will become a familiar autumn formation.
Pointing them south for the winter.
Pointing them to green pastures
As they fill the skies
With their cries of farewell. of so long.
I'm reminded time and again by this ritual
That their are only so many sunrises
So many sunsets in our short lives.
In our youth those numbers don't exist
And horizon is just another word.
It's not until we climb the mountains of life
That we realize they don't go on forever.
That as we reach each peak in our lives
The mountains become lower, become fewer,
And as our climbing days fade behind us
The horizon can clearly be seen
In the distance that lies ahead.
Each time one of us reaches that horizon and
Takes that final step toward their destiny
We gather in this familiar formation
To say good-bye, to say farwell
To someone who was a part of our life.
Who touched us in some way
With their spirit, with their soul.
Often they lead the way for us
Clearing a path so that we may see
For ourselves what lies ahead.
To make our own choices
Chose our own direction in life
Through the wisdom and aid of their experience.
Only over time can we look back
At the mountains we've climbed,the choices we've made
That we can appreciate and respect
The true value of such a gift.
So in this ,their final senset
We gather in this familiar formation
To bid farewell to Doc.
Our cries of love and gratitude
Join as one,in unison,to say thank you
To say farewell,to say so long to such a spirit.
On their way to green pastures and far horizons,forever.

Word Salad

by

Phil Pochurek

I love you daddy
How have you been?
"You should have been here
When I got him!".
Got who daddy?
What did you do?
"Oh honey, I've got a daughter
Who looks just like you."
I know daddy
I'm your girl.
"Did you know
You can't go in there?"
Why not daddy?
Go in where?
"I can't remember,
Sometime last year."
Have you been out lately dad?
Have you gone anywhere?
"Oh sure I just got back last night,
Or was it last year?"
I love you daddy
I missed you this week.
"Don't do that!"
"Get away!""Let me go!"
"Who are you by the way?"
I've got to go dad.
I'll see you next week,love you daddy.
"Bye honey, don't be mad,
You're still my favorite girl."
"Just like the one I've always had."

The Alzheimers Cafe

by

Phil Pochurek

Everyone comes to the Alzheimers cafe
Where the menu is never the same
And everybody orders the soup of the day
But no one remembers your name.
Everyone comes to the Alzheimers cafe
Where everyone you meet is somebody new.
Don't worry if you forgot
What you were going to say
Because nobody's listening to you,
But everybody's smiling and looking your way
They just can't remember
What they were goin to do,
Or forgot what they were going to say.
At the Alzheimers cafe it's what ever day
The majority wants it to be.
Which is really quite nice if you like fish and rice
And for desert you can have creme brulee.

A Man Needs A Dog

by

Phil Pochurek


A man needs a dog
When he’s fishing.
Someone who’s patient
And can wait.
Who won’t laugh
When he catches a rock
Or get squeamish when he puts on the bait.
Someone who’ll listen
When he’s talking
Or sit quiet when there’s nothing to say,
And won’t bother him every five minutes
Because they’re bored and want to call it a day.
Someone to watch your pole when you’re sleeping
In case you start getting a bite
A buddy who’ll nudge you to wake you
Just in time for that long awaited strike.
A partner who’ll jump in to save you
If you trip and fall off the dock,
And steady your hand when you’re back on land
From too many beer’s and can’t walk.
Year after year we’ve gone fishing
From the bank ,off the dock, or a log,
I couldn’t imagine it without her
When you’re fishing, a man needs his dog.

A Portrait Of Madness

by

Phil Pochurek



Little George stopped by today
For no reason at all nothing really to say
Just to visit me in the check out line
At the grocery store, I didn’t know what for
So I didn’t have time, to be ready.
I wouldn’t even have known he was there
If I didn’t see the people staring
All around me.
Then when I heard them laughing aloud
Saw them pointing their fingers and gaffing me
With their jibes from the growing crowd,
I knew it was him.
Little George doesn’t mind.
He comes and sees me as he pleases.
He doesn’t have to suffer the kind
Of humiliation from the teases
That follows me wherever he goes.
After a while people recognize you
Then turn the other way is all they can do
When they see you coming.
The look on their faces can’t be misplaced
Every time I see it it’s still numbing
And I’m a little disgraced but
Little George makes no excuses
And says whatever he wants.
Whenever he wants, to whoever he wants.
Leaving me to suffer the jeers and the taunts
Of those around me.
I can only hope that someday they’ll find
The right kind of medicine for Little Georges’ kind
Something to make him behave.
It would be nice to have my life back again
Without looking over my shoulder for him
Everywhere I go.
Someday maybe I can move one last time
Where nobody will know Little George is inside
Somewhere I won’t have to hide because of him
And Little George will never find me again.

What Time Is IT?

by

Phil Pochurek



What time is it?
Does anybody know? Oh I forgot
Nobody cares.
If the suns on the dock it’s 9:30
Time to put on a hat
Or go comb your hair.
Have some coffee and throw on some bacon
Just a bite before its back to the dock,
Grab some sunscreen and whatever you’re drinkin
If you leave something consider it forgot.
As long as there’s plenty of worms and corn
There’s not much else that you need,
Maybe a sandwich and a beer or two
Maybe something to read.
When the wind picks up its 11:00 or 1:00
When it lays down its 8:30 or 9:00
That’s when some people call it a day,
While I head for some pants, the off, and some wine,
And come back to watch the bats play.
Time is the least of your worries
On the lake I just put my watch away,
There’s so much to do I’m just lucky
If I cared, to remember the day.

Sweet Muzzle

by

Phil Pochurek



Loving is the look behind brown eyes
With ears soft and warm to the touch
Cuddled in close for the nuzzle,
Lapping up kisses from under cold noses
From under your hand or against your cheek
Comes up a loving and warm sweet muzzle.
Fur soft kisses with milkbone breath remind you
Of all that love from your four legged friends
Whose giggling lips that howl at the moon
Bring you dead birds and random sticks
Then turn around and lick their rear ends.
When legs go flailing and tongues go sailing
Flapping in the wind
Running across a summer day,
It’s all you can do to keep up with them
When they’re ready to play.
There’s nothing like a thirsty dog
And a garden hose with a nozzle.
Barking and biting for every drink
Wetting down that sweet muzzle.
Back off running they’ll chase you down
With slobbering jibs from their last guzzle
But it doesn’t matter if pure love is wet
When it comes from your dogs sweet muzzle.

The Listener

by

Phil Pochurek



The best listener
Has no reply.
They seldom question
Or even ask why, they listen.
Endearing themselves
With patience and calm
They’re able to listen for long, long,
Moments in time.
Until the feelings are all expressed
Or the pain is gone
They listen.
Never judging the right or wrong
The loss or gain
They listen and they remain
Constant, open, and present.
They hear the hurt
They feel the joy
When they become the sounding board
They employ all their senses
All their heart
And they listen.
They don’t condone
They don’t condemn .
They hold their questions
Unless asked for them
And listen.

When A Young Man Dies

by

Phil Pochurek



When a young man dies
The world loses a potential father,
A mother and father’s son, a young lion.
His new life over before it had begun.
In every mans heart
There lies a seed that bears his name.
A reminder, a memory, of his journey, his strife
To show the world that he was here, that he came.
And had passion, purpose, a reason and a dream in this life.
To be passed on, to a young man, to a son.
To teach, to show, to learn, a simple plan.
How to get things done.
How to become a man.
How to live life and work hard.
How to grow and laugh and have fun.
How to start something and stay with it
See it through until its done.
How to love and respect a woman
So she’ll want to be his wife.
Bear his children and help him raise them
Stand beside him the whole of his life.
To become a husband and a father
So one day he may know
The joy of raising his own young man
To teach him with love and help him to grow.
When a young man dies
His mother’s heart is shattered
And pieces go missing from her bosom
Where he once laid his sweet head
To echo in her empty womb.
Where once this loving boy did reside
Seems only a moment, to be gone so soon.
When a young man dies
All suffer the pain and the knowing
And grieve at the loss and the fact
That they must remain while he’s going, on without them.
And won’t be coming back.
To a son, to a friend, to a loving boy.
In tears we all say our last good-byes
All too soon,so tragically undone.
When a young man dies.

The Air We Breathe

by

Phil Pochurek



When I inhale I have presence in this life.
I say please to life in the moment.
When I exhale I have presence in the next life
And say thank you to God for returning my breath
And to life in the moment.
When my lungs are full of air
I’ am alive in the present.
In the flesh and blood of the senses
In the world of nature.
When my lungs are empty
I say hello to life in the spirit
Of the soul in the world of His Divine Light
In the Kingdom of Heaven.
If only for a moment.
I have no body only spirit
I’ am the sum of my thoughts
Alive in my prayers of the Divine One
In His light and love.
With my first breath I say hello as
I enter this life and
The world of nature and man.
With my last breath I say thank you
As I enter the next life
And the world of light and spirit.
All things made of flesh and blood
Need air to breath to exist in this world.
All things of the spirit and soul
Need only to be in his light to exist in heaven.
With my last breath
I will say good-bye to life in the present
And close the door to the world of nature and men.
With my last breath the world will stop
As I know it and I will say hello
To eternal life in the Kingdom of light and love.
And enter the Kingdom of Heaven
Returning to the source of my essence.
Like a ray of light reflecting off a mirror
So I’ am returned to Him.
In my soul I have seen His image
In my heart I hold Him near.
With every breath I take He is in me
And He is the reason I’ am here.

When A Poet Dies

by

Phil Pochurek



When a poet dies
A flame goes out
That burned a different color than the rest.
A voice is gone
But their words linger on
Longer than mere mortals can attest.
When a poet dies
A note is missing
From the symphony of life.
Though their magic may be gone
Their spirit is passed on
Like a candle in the darkness burning bright.
When a poet dies
A rainbow goes home
And with it it’s pot of gold.
No new loving landscapes to be spoken
No new amazing graces to be told.
When a poet dies
In books and in memories lies
The heart of a spirit with a different view.
Who saw the world and shared their tears
With the rest of us, with me and you.
They brought us to their side of the mirror.
Their words we read go on to live
Written or spoken touch us all in different ways,
The words they shared were their token
Of what they had to give.
When a poet dies
An angel cries for those left behind
Who go on without them.
Then with tears of joy welcomes them home
From wherever their life had been
To echo what life was all about, and revel their joy to heaven.
Until another poet is born
To write it all down and sort it out
To carry the torch and cry out, and cry out,
When a poet dies.

When Mothers Began

by

Phil Pochurek



Mothers began when they were begat
Way back when all that begettin was begun.
The rest of us just followed suit,
Slowly one by one.
And as our families grew and grew
Mothers became grandmothers
And daughters became wives and mothers too.
Raising and rearing us teaching us right
Loving and endearing us
So that someday we might
Make it through this life, on our own.
Our mothers don’t belong to us
They belong to motherhood.
They’re the part of heaven that touches the earth
And represents all that is good.
They carry the spark of life for God
Passing it on through the gift of birth.
Loving and caring for every moment with us
As only a mother could.
Mothers have been worshiped and cherished by us all
Since the dawn of time.
Highly respected and loved by everyone.
For all our mothers give us everyday
Whose jobs are never done
Let this moment be a token of our thanks.
A little reminder from all of us to you
A special time for all of us to say
How much we love you for everything you do
Happy Mothers Day.

Where Did Mom Go?

by

Phil Pochurek



There’s a little old lady about eighty or so
Who still looks like the mom
I use to know.
Who still sounds like her
When she laughs or scolds you
Even for something you didn’t do.
She’s not as quick as she use to be
And sometimes she doesn’t remember me
But it doesn’t matter because I can see
That she’s still my mom.
She tends to forget the little things
Like where she parked the car
Or the phone until it rings.
I don’t care if she forgets who we are
She’s still my mom and that’s the important thing.
I’m sorry to see her winding down
From the mom I use to know
It’s sad to see her slip that way
Where did the old mom go?
She slides a little more everyday
But some are better than others.
She wears her smile like an old shoe.
It’s hard to watch her go that way
Barely a shadow under the covers
Of the mom I once knew.
She could work all day long
Then come home and fix us dinner
Before her day was through.
Her life was always in motion
Cooking and cleaning she always found something to do.
She was as constant as the tides in the ocean.
Until one day her glass was empty
And she’d finally run out of sand,
She couldn’t do it anymore
And she couldn’t understand what she did wrong.
She tried everything
The way she was taught you should do.
She lived her life in constant practice
Of being honest and good.
She never dreamed she’d end up like this
Someone else maybe but she never would.
How could she know?
Where did the old mom go?
She’s not as sharp as she use to be
And she doesn’t hear to good.
She sits a lot because she can barely see
So I don’t mind when she doesn’t recognize me.
By the way where did mom go?
It’s a shame to watch her fade away
I can only hope she won’t remember
All those years the way things use to be
And instead think about herself today.
Let us remember the mom we use to know
The one who’s here but so far away.
Who’s lost in her search for yesterday.
Where did mom go?

What Grandpa Knows

by

Phil Pochurek



Grandpa holds his fishing pole
Grounded by the things he known
All his life.
Patiently waiting for a fish to bite
He cuts an apple with his knife
Then offers you a slice.
Listen closely and you might hear
The wisdom of his accumulative years
And save yourself some time.
Learn how to eat when you have no food.
Stay warm and dry in the pouring rain.
Make a dollar out of a dime
When times are tight.
Then smile through the pain.
Grandpa knows it’s not about the fish
The pole or the line.
It’s about a wish, a life, a dream, and a time.
Remembering the faces he use to know
People and places he’s seen come and go
That aren’t around anymore.
That’s what fishing is for.
There’s a little old man at the end of the dock
Sitting next to his dog who can barely walk
That’s with him where ever he goes.
Waiting together for God to bring them home.
That’s what Grandpa knows.

The Real Nowhere Man

by

Phil Pochurek


Look at the mad man under that tree
Arguing with himself endlessly.
With no one else around for help
Is that why he’s so angry?
Pacing and ranting helplessly
Waving his arms defenselessly
Yelling at someone only he can see.
Into the open air, doesn’t anyone care?
Days on end he may go without sleep
Eating his only luxury.
Alone in his world of delusions he weeps.
His solitude the only company he keeps.
Alone for everyone to see.
Where do you go when you can’t get away?
From your self for a moments peace.
What do you do when you close your eyes?
But the voices never cease.
Incessantly pecking away at your mind.
Eating your sanity like it was some kind
Of endless buffet until there’s nothing left behind,
But an empty shell of a man.
In a ravaged body who’s souls been torn out.
By an illness we no so little about.
Then made into a prisoner of his own mind.
What can he hope to find?
A better car that he can’t drive?
A bigger house to keep him alive?
Or just one more day to try and survive
The endless battles in his mind.
To win the war that’s in his head
To beat his enemies until they’re dead.
To win the peace of silence instead
Of arguing with himself.
To close his eyes and dream, not scream
Gods name in vain.
To sleep at last without any pain.
To dream all his memories in one last refrain
With tears of joy, and then die.
At last to suffer no more.

The Devil Took The Christ Out Of Christmas

by

Phil Pochurek



The devil took the Christ out of Christmas
The Easter Bunny told me so
And replaced him with lights and merchandise
Then made it a reality show.
No more Santa to bring the kids toys
No manger or Christmas tree,
No caroler’s singing out in the night
Just rappers shouting obscenities from
Their million dollar cribs on MTV.
The devil took the Christ out of Christmas
And nobody seems to care
As long as they could shop on QVC
It was Christmas every day of the year.
Nobody misses the season
Full of tension and despair
It hasn’t been the same since the Magi came
Without cell phones ringing in the air.
Someday maybe we’ll get Christmas back
The way it use to be
For those who can remember,
Hark the herald angels sing
And Joy to the world in December
Is why we call Christ our King.

The Sex Was So Good

by

Phil Pochurek



The sex was so good
I was delirious, deaf and blind
To everything but the moment.
The sex was so good
I lost all memory of any sex that went before.
The sex was so good
I couldn’t stop and wanted more.
The sex was so good
I lost my will.
The sex was so good
I see why people kill
For it, over it, because of it.
The sex was so good
It rules the seat of passion that
Lies between the ears.
It has no fears, only joy, ecstasy, and pleasure.
It heats the blood in my veins
That fuels my loins.
Everybody knows where sex is going, its destination.
It’s the journey it takes that’s different
That’s the mystery to each of us, like a fingerprint, like a kiss.
There in lies the rub, the heat.
It’s all familiar ground.
Wrapped in different packages.
Hidden behind a smile, a look, and a scent you can’t forget.
That makes you crazy, makes you sweat.
Makes you dangerous, careless, and vulnerable.
The sex was so good
I got lost in it, lost in you.
I’ve forgotten everyone until now
But you.

The Passion Of Addiction

by

Phil Pochurek



Ah the smell of addiction.
The scent of friction
Between obsession and desire
Is both delicious and deadly.
The taste of liquid oak
Against the back of your throat
Mingled with the aroma of a fine cigar
Can almost bring grandpa back from the grave
Driving his favorite car.
Sipping scotch and blowing smoke rings
Like he use to from behind a fine monticristo
While Billy Holiday sings.
There’s nothing like taking
No making time to savor the flavor
Of your favorite brandy
While you grow the ash on a coveted
Long awaited Fuenta.
Stolen moments become hidden passions
And secret affairs with vice.
Like the best sex you ever had
And the time you had it twice.
Don’t let your addictions drive you mad
Or you can end up most passionately dead.
No more scotch and smoke, or sex
That would be a shame and too bad
And the end of your sugar and spice.

Something Sacred

by

Phil Pochurek


There’s something sacred
About something that remains the same
Throughout the whole of our lives.
A place to return to
Relatively unchanged over the years.
A centering place to return to as we grow.
To visit and see and look back at what we know
At where we’ve been.
To recharge, replenish, and nourish our souls
Over and over again and again.
Until we too pass on one day
And leave to our children these special places.
Where memories born can never be erased
Just passed on to our family and friends.
Where time stands still, maybe even begins.
A mountain lake, a meadow stream
A playground or a park
All fill our dreams with memories
Of times long passed.
Gone but not forgotten
In memories these sacred places
Will remain, and always last.

He Knows

by

Phil Pochurek



Over in the corner
In a chair against the wall
A man sits waiting, waiting,
For nothing at all.
T.V. blaring people staring
Ranting and waving their arms
Endlessly day after day.
Some are lost forever
Some just for today.
For the rest it all depends on their med’s
It’s hard to say.
Propped against the window sill
The outside world pours in
And watches him sitting painfully still,
His inside world trying to get out
Dying to get out of him.
Trapped inside a living prison
Bound by determination and will.
Don’t stop coming, he knows.
Even when there’s no plants showing, nothing growing,
The rain still falls.
Even though there’s no boats sailing, no kites flailing.
The wind still blows.
Even though the snow covers all
In the spring it will thaw
Don’t stop coming.
Even though there’s no
Winkin, blinkin, or a nod showing
He knows you’re there.
Behind the mist, behind the eyes
It’s spring inside.
Don’t be discouraged just realize
He knows, he knows.

Waiting Until Forever

by

Phil Pochurek



My butts just a memory
Of what it use to be
Now instead of holding my pants up
It’s the flattest part of me.
If only my stomach could look that way
If only my hair wasn’t so gray.
My body’s just a memory, a shadow of yesterday
When I was young.
I don’t do much running anymore
I’m not in a hurry to get out the door
There’s really no where I can go I haven’t been before
Without getting lost.
The days all seem to blend into one
Only the weather changes with or without sun.
I wish I were home I wish I knew someone
Who could remember me, remember something I’ve done
But they’re all gone, they’re all gone.
All back to the one.
They’re names without faces lost in my past
They’re all just memories with no shadows to cast.
All the people in my life that I once knew
Have all gone and left me without leaving a clue
On where they went or what I’m suppose to do.
What am I suppose to do?
So I’ll sit in this chair and wait for a sign
I’ll watch out the window for them I’ve got plenty of time
I’m happy just to be here in my place in line
Waiting until forever.

Until We Meet Again

by

Phil Pochurek


Life is a story we all must live out
To see how it’s going to end,
With no peeking ahead
To see what’s happening next
Or what’s coming around the bend.
We’ve all come here today
To this familiar place
To bid farewell to a friend.
To pay our respects and say Grace.
His long journey is finally over
His story has come to its end.
We’re gathered here today
To say good-bye to a loving spirit
Who touched each one of us along his way.
As a husband and a father
An uncle and a brother
And a grandpa just to name a few.
Only time could stop a man like Tom
Seems like there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do.
He worked hard and honestly
Over the course of his life
And when things got tough
He just played right through.
But he had some fun along the way
And for those of you who knew him well
Know Tom knew how to play.
There always seemed to be a little sand
In all the shoes Tom wore
No matter what he’d do.
From four wheelin around in the sand dunes
To the bunkers he occasionally rolled into.
He loved the life he lived each day
With his wife and family and friends
I’m sure if he were here right now
This is what he might say:
"Don’t think of me as gone away
This isn’t where the story ends
I’ve just crossed the finish line before you all
You know how I like to win.
Out on the fairways or out in the dunes
I’ll be waiting till your stories are through
Out where the sun shines everyday
Is where I’ll be waiting for you."
Each of us has a story to tell
And we write it in the book of life.
The roles we’ve played and the hats we’ve worn
All come together in the end.
We hand them down to our children
And pass them on to our friends
Until all of our stories are over
Until we meet again.

Too Late To Say Goodbye

by

Phil Pochurek



She won’t be getting up.
It’s eight o ‘clock in the morning in this world
And somewhere in between
Forever and Eternity in the next.
We look so peaceful, so natural
When we go in our sleep
It’s hard to tell if someone’s not breathing.
No wonder they call it resting in peace.
No more pain, no more gain.
The strain of living, the heat of life gone
We are cold to the touch.
The empty shell left behind
That we loved so much who we called by name
Is just that, empty.
Worn out. Used up.
Its purpose served its person gone.
Without even saying good-bye.
How selfish of me now to cry
Over such missed opportunities.
Wasted moments to take the time
To tell someone how special they were.
How much they meant to you.
How much you cared for them, loved them.
And now they’re gone, they’re cold.
Too late to respond.
She won’t be getting up this morning.
No matter how hard you try.
No matter how much, how long you cry.
She’s gone home, and you’re alone
And it’s too late to say goodbye.

The Tip

by

Phil Pochurek



I have seen many sunrises
From behind a pair of handle bars
Over the top of a newspaper bag,
It was my favorite part of the job.
What a paradox.
I loved what I was doing
But hated what I did.
For me the journey held a far greater value
Than the end result.
I loved the morning.
The fresh air and the deer,
They knew what I meant.
I reveled in the calm
Of everyone’s sleep
While I delivered the world to their doorsteps.
I felt selfish sometimes getting paid
For the fun I had and
Keeping it all to myself
In the quiet before the dawn.
Sometimes it was work
But most of the time I did it
For the love of the ride.
I only wish the news could have been better.
There was a war over seas that nobody wanted
And everybody watched on the evening news
Across their dinner tables,
Like a bad movie that never ended.
Momentarily interrupted by a walk on the moon.
Too bad our highest evolutionary achievement to date
Had to be tarnished by our terminal quest for
Peace and freedom for the world in the name of democracy.
We reached for the heavens
With stars in our eyes and blood on our hands,
While our feet stood fast
In the mire of our past indiscretions.
It was all there day after day
The accomplishments, the defeats,
The miracles, and the disasters.
Life and death flew from my bag
To their doorsteps, and I was their messenger.
Like Mercury I flew up the hills
And over the streets going door to door.
Silently delivering the news from the night before.
On target, on time, on their doorsteps
All before the sun came up.
All before that first cup of coffee
Would jump start their day,
And the paper would bring them up to the moment.
This money isn’t for the paper
I don’t read it, I do the crossword.
This money is for you.
Your ambition, your motivation,
Your initiative to want to begin to
Take responsibility for your life.
And I salute you for doing it well.
Day after day on time, on target.
The show starts here
And you’re at the head of the line
Thank you for a job well done.
Keep up the good work and you’ll do fine
This tip is just a reminder, son.

The Real World

by

Phil Pochurek



The real world
Doesn’t care if you’re late.
It doesn’t hear excuses
It doesn’t wait.
It moves on.
The real world
Doesn’t care who’s fault it is or
Who’s to blame.
It doesn’t care about guilt or shame
It moves on.
The real world
Has no eyes
But sees everybody the same.
It doesn’t care who you are
Or if you have a name
It moves on.
The real world
Only is as it has always been.
It has seen us come and seen us go
Again and again and again
Until we’re gone.
And the real world?
It moves on.

They Have To Touch

by

Phil Pochurek


Constant companions to one another
Like the sun and the moon
This sister and brother.
Eating and sleeping and playing hard
Chasing each other across the yard.
Running around both table and chair
Or chewing a pair of your underwear.
Always in sight of one another
Inseparable this sister and brother.
Rolling and wrestling or chewing an ear
On top or the bottom they don’t really care.
They take turns being selfish and tough
And take turns when they share,
Then fall asleep when they’ve had enough.
It takes a lot of work to play all day
And spend long hours waiting alone,
Wondering when you’re coming back
Waiting for you to come home.
Always together this faithful pair
Awake or asleep, alone or with you,
Loving you and each other so very much.
There’s only thing they need to do,
They have to touch.

The Passing

by

Phil Pochurek



I walk the halls, the stairs,
Through empty rooms, relentlessly.
Over and over, looking for something, looking for you.
Reliving past events, moments in time.
All gone now, some long ago.
I've worked through the grief.
It does' t hurt anymore, it’s moved on.
It’s in my body now, in my muscles, my bones.
Moving them involuntarily
Working them to failure.
I want to stop.
I want to stop looking.
Looking for you.
Because I know you're never coming back
But I can’t, you’re everywhere.
You're in every room, every hallway,
Every inch of this house is you.
Your voice, your laughter
Still echoes in the walls.
Your scent is in the closets
Where your clothes are still hanging.
Waiting for you to come back
Come home and put them on again,
But you never will.
I'll pack them up, give them to your friends
When I'm ready, when I'm ready to let go,
But not yet. I can't let you go, yet.
I can’t believe you’re gone and I’m still here
After all those years in your arms safe, secure.

Protected just like you promised.
Until death do us part and you kept your word.
That's behind me now, passed away, passed on
To yesterday, and all our times together.
Now it's my turn to let go, move on without you.
Alone with empty arms, through empty rooms,
And a lifetime of memories and photographs of you, of us
To keep me company, keep me warm,
To finish the other half of our life together.
To keep my end of the promise
Until we're together again.

The Hatch

by

Phil Pochurek



In a whirling dervish of gossamer wings
I’m engulfed by a cadis hatch
Who desperately cling
To my body hair, to anything
In respite of this summer breeze.
Their delicate perfection belies their size.
With antennae like tails and bulging eyes
They struggle to hold their place against the wind.
Their lifetimes a mere twinkling of an eye
As they strain to reproduce before they die
Or end up as food for a waiting trout.
Flying and mating is what their life is all about
As their swarm goes drifting by.
And so I sit in awe and wonder
At their noble cause as they fly off in grandeur
In witness as they struggle against the wind,
And offer up a resting place.
My arms, my legs, my hair, my face,
To this insect glitterati from where they began
On their journey towards their destiny’s end,
Almost over as quickly as it begins
To this insect version of amazing grace.

The Picasso Years

by

Phil Pochurek



The finesse of time
Slows us down physically
So that patience replaces competition
As we enter a new genre of living
In our farewell to youth.
It’s a long journey to arrive at wisdom
Through experience with our bodies and spirits in tact.
Mentally, physically, or both, lets say whole.
Life is a short game.
We drive for show
And putt for the know.
We all start out with the same ingredients.
Add our own unique flavor and style
To the person we become
And hope when we reach the finish line
The soufflé doesn’t fall.
Some times the clues are hidden
But mostly they're conspicuous.
A shirt tale left out, sleeping till ten.
Glasses lost on top of your head.
Only one shower a day, maybe.
Topped off with a nursing home shave.
Just close enough to keep the crumbs
From sticking to your face.
With a few random hairs left showing
That you missed or grew misplaced.
It’s the things that don’t show
That are hard to find.
They’re the hidden out of sight ones
Deep in the back of you mind.
Your phone number forgotten, the car keys misplaced.
Names and faces people and places
The day of the week, all erased.
It’s merciless sometimes
When your own mind plays hide and seek.
But for the most of us
There’s someone around to help us remember
To help us be found
When we get lost in conversation
As we wonder and wander
Down the long road home.
In snapshots we’re reminded
Of where we’ve been.
The things we’ve done and that we’re not alone.
That the children we’ve raised
And our next of kin
Have been with us all along the way.
In memories we all come home.
They take us back to lead the way
And help us remember
How we got to where we are today.
From our abstract thoughts, doubts and fears,
To our random points of view
We start each day over
Carefully planning everything we do.
Trying not to get lost or stuck in the past.
Trapped in another lifetime
And the shadows that it casts.
The fading colors of the day and
The sounds and smells of everyday life
Are all reminders of how important each sunset is.
Are all reminders of how much sand is left in the glass
How much water is left in the well.
How important it is to tell someone you love them.
In our Picasso years it all goes too fast.
And as things begin to blur
Into one thought one memory
We finally learn that nothing lasts.
We try to color our good byes with grace
With each stroke of the brush
As we put our lives in place.
Rejoice with us and save you tears
Someday you’ll understand
When you reach the Picasso Years.

The Pain Of Knowing

by

Phil Pochurek


The pain of knowing
What you did was right
Isn’t any comfort later that night
When your hand falls
Over the side of your bed.
That’s when you finally realize
Her familiar muzzle and brown eyes,
That gentle lick of her tongue
Are really, finally forever gone
And your dearest, truest friend is dead.
All those years she was there for you
Through the pain and the joy
To see you through
And make sure you were all right,
Always as close to you as she could be.
Often lying on top of your feet.
Sneaking up on your bed
After you’ve fallen asleep
To watch over you through the night.
I’ve never had a better friend
More understanding and forgiving
Through thick and thin
Who always had time for me,
Whose only complaint
Was when I went away
And couldn’t spend another minute of the day
With her to keep her company.
I use to think being alone
Was just the two of us together
Doing whatever felt right.
All those years went by so fast
And now she’s gone her life is done
And I’m learning the true meaning of alone, tonight.
I’m sure she knows this all will pass
And someday we’ll be together again.
But right now the pain is too great.
Not seeing her smile
And wagging stub of a tail
Waiting for me at the gate.
Laying by the door
When I come home late
And everyone else is asleep.
Knowing she’d be there when I came home
Always made it easier to go,
Coming home to her wagging tail
Her loving head bowed low,
Those big brown eyes and her smile
Took all the wrinkles out of my day
And made everything seem worthwhile.
The days are painfully longer now
But eventually they too will pass
The sooner I realize,
I’m a better man for knowing her
And all the years she gave me.
The memories of her sweet brown eyes
That loved me unconditionally.

The Birthday Mirror

by

Phil Pochurek



Oh Momma now what do we do?
Look at us, I’m fifty and you’re eighty-two.
Are we having fun yet?
Go figure, who’d of thought
That either of us someday would have what we’ve got.
Would have made it this far, on a bet!
Well ok maybe just me
But you’ve had a few close calls too don’t you see?
We work, and we work, and we work
Then hope we can retire before we die.
Maybe even save a little money to help us get by
But you never really know how you’re going to end up.
We can only hope at the end of the road
They’ll be someone there to wipe our ass and fill our cup.
But I think we’re still doing pretty good so far.
You’re still driving (oh God!) and I’m still smoking cigar’s (duh).
But I imagine that too will change
Everything does nothing stays the same.
And if you live long enough eventually you see it all.
So when all the things you thought
Meant so much have eventually gone away,
Either broken, been given or lost
Try to remember if any of it was worth the time it cost.
When all you have is time what will you do then?
How will you spend it?
On yourself? On others? With your friends?
Doing things you’ve never done?
Or doing the same things over, and over again.
Imagine the rest of your life just having fun! You just never know.
Remember you can hold onto more things by letting go.
Go and see, go and do, at last
It’s time to do something for you.
You’re finally old enough, you’re Eighty Two!
Happy Birthday Momma
I’m glad you’re still here
Eat, drink, and party today then remember it all
So we can do it all again next year.
Then take a long hard look in the birthday mirror.

The Day We Say Goodbye

by

Phil Pochurek


I wish that I were closer to God
So that someday I might know
The more loosely we hold on
To those dearest to our hearts
The easier it is when its time to let them go.
We get so use to our dogs and cats
Always being there for us
Rubbing against our legs and licking our faces
Giving us their trust
That we forget they’re not on our time.
We raise them with our children
When they’re born
And together we watch them grow.
Loving each other and learning together
All the things they need to know.
They fill all the holes in our busy lives
With their unconditional love
That we forget that they’re just on loan,
Sent from God to remind us of his love
And keep us company until we come home.
And when the day comes
That he calls them back
To be with Him by his side
Is the time that we must let them go,
And remember them always
With all of our hearts
And thank them for touching us
With their souls.

Sunrise At O'dell

by

Phil Pochurek



The caddis hatch
Dances in the early morning sun
Rolling and turning like sparks from a fire.
Their short lives having just begun
Flying seems to be their only desire
Until the wind takes them on their way.
Then as the sun begins to rise
The mirror on the lake
Begins to disguise its contents in the morning breeze.
When out of the trees comes the dragonflies
With gossamer wings and lightening speed,
They swoop and dive as they begin to feed
On the chimney of mosquito’s just above my head.
A welcome sight as they feed and fly
While nimbus and cirus clouds fill the sky
On their way to the valley below.
An occasional fish breaks the surface to rise
For a morning snack
Right before my eyes as if to say hello.
Dancing and flashing from head to tail
They eat their fill while Osprey sail overhead.
Then just as the sun breaches the sky
A low flying Heron passes by.
In silence he tips a watchful eye in my direction.
His grace and beauty for me to see
On the lake in his reflection.
There’s awe and wonder in this Passion play
Of each new beginning of another day
And the story it has to tell,
That the memory of its beauty
And the secrets that it keeps will always remain
In the morning to be seen,
In a sunrise at O’dell

Tattoo

by

Phil Pochurek



It’s amazing the interest that’s sparked
The curiosity piqued
When the word Tattoo gets mentioned.
From fasination and awe
To disgust and mistrust
At the thought of even having the intention.
It’s not just sailors and carnies anymore
That’s having ink done
It’s the last person you’d expect
Or even someone you respect
Hell it could be the minister’s son.
It’s permanent art on a canvas of skin
Separating you from all the rest,
From a rosebud draped across grandmas ankle
To a singing Elvis across uncle dad’s chest.
It’s funny where people will put a tattoo
Either private or out to be seen,
And when you don’t understand what they’re trying to say
You can always ask them what it means.
I’ve waited a long time to get my ink done
To make sure it’s exactly what I wanted.
Then I had to decide if I wanted to hide it
Or put it out somewhere it could be flaunted.
I think in private is where the first on should be
Then no one will know that I have it but me
And when someone asks if I have a tattoo
I can smile and say yes
But I’m not showing it to you
I did it just for me
It’s my tattoo.

Spring In The High Desert

by

Phil Pochurek


The cool spring wind
Hisses through the trees, then silence.
Rushing down from the mountains
With their broken tops and jagged peaks.
Reaching for the blue sky
Tearing the clouds as they go by
On their way across the desert.
In these quiet moments
The sun is warm and bright.
Spreading its presummer heat and light over all it touches.
Urging the leaves back onto the trees
And the flowers from out of the ground.
When you look around you can see that spring is here.
The deer have wandered out of the woods
With their spotted fawns in tow.
Squirrels and rabbits are out on the lawns
Playing on the grass out to the edge of the snow.
Soon the season of people will begin.
They’ll be more of them outside than in.
Enjoying the summer and the desert again
Gazing at the stars.
Coming from all directions to play
Taking time to relax and get away
Get out of their cars and away
From their everyday grind.
Leaving their work lives and the city behind
To take in the summer air.
There’s a clarity that comes from moments like these
From the wind and the mountains
The desert and the trees,
That lingers and lasts in memories, forever.
Savored and saved in our hearts and minds.
Touched and recalled by a photo from a time
Can take you back to a treasured moment that reminds
You of a season long ago, left behind in your past.
There’s high desert magic in the mountain breeze.
Calling and holding you like sirens in the trees.
Making it hard for you when it’s time to leave
Spring in the high desert.

Shouting Sun Whispering Moon

by

Phil Pochurek


Shouting sun bursts through the trees
In a brilliant crescendo of light.
Creating crisp dark shadows of detail and outline with ease
Erasing any traces of the night.
Shadows of images dance their way
Across the morning dew.
Opposites of absolutes are reflections of the day
Of mirages just passing through.
Changing in their paths to suit the season
Changing their shape in front of you.
All the while watching in the afternoon sun
Is a crescent shaped pale half moon,
Whose whispering ways have already begun.
With tales of evening stars soon to come
She patiently waits for the setting sun to finish out his day.
His shadows growing longer when his work is nearly done
And his light begins to fade.
Whispering moon has begun to swoon
Over promises shouting sun has made
Like a bride on her wedding day.
When the beauty of his passion play unfolds,
Shouting sun begins to set in his glorious way
With crimson reds, violets and gold’s.
Whispering moon has begun whitening preparing for the night
Lighting the stars along her way.
Greeting the clouds as they sail on by
Into her twilight and out of the day.
Whispering to the world as she puts it to sleep
Her lullaby lingers across the night,
Her moon shadows are quiet, soft and gray
Her moonbeams subtle and white.
It’s shouting sun that rules the morning
And whispering moon that rules the night.
Since the beginning of time it’s been that way.
Sun shouts his glory into the morning
Moon whispers her peace into the night while we pray.
We bow our heads to the sun high above us
Shade our eyes from his power and might,
Bare our bodies to the moon when we undress
And lift our eyes to her heavenly light.
Hot and scolding are suns ultra violet rays
That turn your skin from white to red.
Cool and inviting is moons mesmerizing gaze
And a beacon for lovers in the night, in their beds.
Our spirits rejoice under shouting sun
And our bodies under whispering moon
Our secrets never told to anyone.
Even when our bodies have long been dead.
Shouting sun sees’ our truth at high noon
Without shadows for us to hide,
Whispering moon watches over us at night
And sees our passionate side.
Our promises may come to her
From out of the shadows
But our truths lay naked in her light.
Shouting sun brings me the morning
Whispering moon brings me the night.
And in between is my life.
From beginning to end they both are my friends
This celestial husband and wife.
Shouting Sun king of the morning
Whispering Moon queen of the night.

She Wants New Sheets

by

Phil Pochurek


She wants new sheets.
Uncharted territory, fresh, crisp.
No stains, no reminders of yesterdays love.
Something different, new.
I want to keep the old sheets.
Familiar as skin, only smoother.
Six hundred threads of well-seasoned cloth.
A deliciously soft road map to your dreams.
With a memory, a history, that is ours alone.
Hundreds of love making sessions
Anointed with massage oils, our sweat,
And the juices of life, of joy, of love.
Stained over the years with passion.
Faded memories of trysts long past
That nobody sees but us.
Sheets so soft, so warn, so loved in, and on,
It’s hard to break from their grasp, their spell,
Once you’re in them, even when you’re alone.
Sometimes I actually think about them, miss them,
When they’re not on the bed.
From their horizontal world of sex and dreams
To our vertical world of everyday life, I love those sheets.
Maybe that’s why she wants new ones.
She’s jealous, envious, annoyed,
That I could become so attached to something so mundane.
Personify something as simple as sheets
To the point of bruising her feelings.
So they’re gone with all their loving memories.
And with them the joy, the lust for sleep they created
That they instilled with a single touch of your skin.
The desire to linger, to stay, to hold, and be late.
Their spell is broken at last undone
Only now a new one begun
As she rolls into my arms.

Summer And Smoke

by

Phil Pochurek


It was a summer unlike any other
You could taste the forest
On the smoke in the air.
It blocked out the sun
The mountains and the fun
And soiled the clouds everywhere.
Out beautiful forests were on fire
Making it hard to be at the lake.
At five thousand feet it becomes stifling
With smoke in every breath that you take.
Even the wind couldn’t help us
That summer with all of the smoke
Instead of taking it away it only brought more.
At times it was hard to tell the difference
From the lake to the trees on the shore.
That summer was a constant reminder
Of the fires being fought near by.
You could taste the danger in the mountains
And see it on the orange sun in the sky.
It was a summer of smoke and danger
That all this could be taken away.
It was a grim and constant reminder
Of how important the role is that we play.
It was the summer of smoke and prayers
That the autumn rains would come save the day.
To save and preserve all this beauty
We've come to know and to share
And keep it sacred for our children and their children and
Protect it so it will always be there.

Shake Me Out At O'dell

by

Phil Pochurek


When my time on this earth is over
And my work is finally done
I won’t take up space
By being planted in the ground.
The earth is a place for the living
No sense wasting good real-estate
While the living are still around.
When I finally go don’t shed any tears
By then everyone should know,
I’m just moving on to what lies beyond
At the end of my living years.
That I’ve gone on ahead to find the way
And I’ll be waiting their for them
Waiting to show them
All the things that I’ve learned
When it’s there time to begin.
So ice the kegs down in the morning
And pile the wood high into the twilight.
At sunset we’re having a party.
I’ll be the one stacked on top of the pyre
Wrapped up in muslin white.
Circle round me and bring on your torches
Raise your glasses for one final toast.
Light the fire for the Angels to see me
And all my friends who have loved me the most.
Later when all the beer is gone
And the fire has burnt down to embers
Get the ones who are left and still awake
All their memories spent they can remember,
For I have one last request to make.
Gather my ashes in an old watering can
And take me up to O’dell Lake.
Shake me out along the cindered shores
Across from Diamond Peak.
Around the ferns and under the firs
Some where near Boyles Creek.
Where I can watch the sunsets
And listen to the lapping waves,
Watch the Eagles soaring high above me
Until the end of days.
And when the mists of Autumn come
Before the Winter snows
I can finally watch the Otters playing on the dock
And they’ll never even know.
Then when the Kokanee come to spawn
In flaming crimson red
I’ll bid them a fond farewell,
While a full moon rises over Diamond Peak
I’ll be at home at last, forever at O’dell.

Santa RIdes