There Is A Day

There Is A Day

When I fall apart,
He is there.
When damage of sin
      breaks and separates,
He is there.

In the panic and fear,
God is near.
In the pain and hurt,
God is near.

In deafening silence,
God hears.
In the mind numbing roar,
God hears.

When confusion spills from eyes,
He gathers the tears.
Guilt and sorrow seep out of eyes,
He gathers the tears.

In the midst of unmet longings,
He makes it right.
There is a day,
When He makes all things right.

About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.

Hunting

           Hunting

Over the raked hay I fly,
Waiting for movement to catch my eye,
Mouse runs for cover,
Too late dinner's discovered.

About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.

Wrestle of Claimed

         Wrestle of Claimed

Broken places take up space,
Can I trust you face to face?
Why the question in the moment?
Fleeting connection then it's gone.
Pulled apart in an instant.

All the past dead weight to haul,
Under it stumble and fall.
How does the past lose it's power?
Schemes, patterns, and cycles exchanged.

So enter into that space,
Share the power in the us,
Free to drift in peace,
Surrendered and vulnerable,
Claiming her, claiming us.

Need an imprint of that place.
New reality to embrace.
Uncreate and detach with the old.
New place to hug and hold.
Going further in the us "zone."
Two of us fully known.

About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.

Technological Ponderings

Technological Ponderings

Smart phone spends the night with me,
Plays music as I go to sleep,
Wakes me in the morn,
Knows my routines better than my lover.

Google knows my likes and tastes,
She keeps track of all my important dates,
Intimacy as lays upon my chest,
Reach for her to check the time in the night.

Sorrow in the coldness,
Void made for connection,
Instead minds reflection,
In light of best friends glow, my cell phone.

About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.

Backside Of Beauty

View from the Ranch Tonight

         Backside of Beauty
On the backside,
Of a tornado,
Beauty can reside,
Rainbow bright and brilliant,
Consumes the evening sky.

Prevailing winds drunkenly shift,
Howling stiffly in the trees,
Dust puff low against horizon,
Loose hay floating about with ease,
On the other side of beauty,
Tremendous energy,
Spinning round about.

Spitting icy balls,
Violent anger expressed,
Wreaking destruction in erratic path,
Sirens blare alert the air,
As trauma does unfold,
Leaving wake of pain untold.

Nebraska's violent weather unleashed,
Upon the prairie and the hills,
Causing awe and wonder at the power,
Reminding humans that we're weak,
Can stand amazed at the extremes held in tension,
Seductive beauty on the backside of tornadic power.

Written about a tornado tonight south of Mitchell, NE.

About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.

Another Day

         Another Day

Circular systems,
Returns to sender,
Information provided,
To do the work.

Instead of work completed,
By group requesting the information,
Flies around the atmosphere,
With this is too difficult can you do it for us.

What they don't realize is,
I don't care,
It's been 40 years since anyone asked,
It will be another 40 before anyone cares.

System corrupts and distorts,
All that is good in a person,
Goal appears to be keep the churn,
While nothing ever gets completed.

About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.

Flywheel

          Flywheel

Flywheel spins,
Baler greedily devours,
Windrow of hay in throat,
Bulimicly regurgitates squares.

A poem about baling hay.
About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.

Love's Sweet Sorrow

Love's Sweet Sorrow

Golden tear drop falls,
Tender love caresses lip.
Nectar of full blossom,
Bitter taste upon the tongue.

Goodbyes and regrets,
No more.
Sorrow mixed memory,
Until we meet again.

Written for an online poetry contest. 

About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.

Weight of Glory

Image from Worship this Morning

Weight of Glory

Weight of His glory,

Pours down,

Into our souls,

Containers of flesh and blood.

Invitation to partake,

Allow Spirit to flow,

Stretch and expand,

In trials and tests.

Choices to make,

Allow weight to expand,

Press and contort,

Pushing the sides.

Supple and soft,

Room made to contain.

Deeper in intimacy,

One with Creator.

About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.

Swept Away

Swept Away

Swept away,
Inundated by the eyes,
Known before words spoken,
Connection electrified.

If pause for an instant,
Read the eyes,
See the person,
Might become more civilized.

How romance happens,
How friendships form,
A vulnerable look in the eyes,
Swept away.

A poem for an online poetry contest. About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.

Ode to the Rancher

      Ode to the Rancher

Summer sun beats,
Baking skin in heat,
Whisking moisture away,
Rough and calloused,
Cracked curious patterns,
In the ground and on the skin,
Darkened pigments,
Weathered and dry,
Coated in dirt and dust,
Grease and grime stain,
Not cubicle contained,
Free to roam,
Chores to do,
Equipment to maintain,
Irrigation to set,
Fence to mend,
Animals to tend.

About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.

Nebraskan Buck Moon

The full moon in July is known as a buck moon.

    Nebraskan Buck Moon

Wind caresses prairie grass,
Waving in symbiotic dance,
Hues of days long past,
In the glow of buck moon.

Buck moon's pale light,
Awakens Nebraska's virgin prairie,
Shadows play upon earth's skin,
Lover's dance as one.

Whispers in velvet voice,
Beckon attuned ear,
Invitation to partake,
In love's mature song.

About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.

Due to Myself

        Due to Myself

Mind on the edge,
Thoughts toss and abuse,
Chum in the water,
All this bait set the trap.

Familiar patterns and ruts,
Imbedded interpretations and lies,
Do to myself,
Due to myself.

About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.

Bounding

A Buck in Velvet on Drive to Work This Morning

             Bounding

Buck bounds into field,
Bouncing to see above the corn,
Doe hops out of sight,
He stops, I stop.

Softness in day break,
Window rolled down,
Looking at each other,
Velvet on rack.

Thoughts on internal struggle,
Moment to refocus mind,
Pulls out of self-absorbed place,
Engage in beauty of morning.

Gift of morning,
Presents itself,
Enjoyed and seen,
Hope bounds at break of day.

About the Author:  Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.