Simple and Complex

                Simple and Complex

Beauty of the simple.
Elegance of complex.
Beauty and elegance woven together.
Complements and strengthen what could stand alone.
Stronger together.
Congruent and integrated.
Powerful integrity without words.
Draws others, an open invitation.
Sweetness of safe community.
Fortitude to risk vulnerability, being known.
Smoothing roughness of character.
Soothing to soul, redemption.
Sought after and invited.
Peace settles from inside out.

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

Image is of our herd of horses.

English Lit

                               English Lit

Ides of March draws me back to high school,
Where our teacher drew us into the world of Shakespeare.
Decades later still have fond memories,
A love for different types of literature discovered.

Our high school lit class just as difficult as college class,
Teacher's love of literature wouldn't allow less.
Discussions and discovery as new worlds opened,
Exploration of Human nature and motive awakened.

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

Within the Walls

            Within the Walls

Why does "it" stay within the walls,
If it's legit then take it out in halls.
In the highways and byways,
Thirsty and hungry to humanities strays.

All the gifts feeding the full,
Become so numb and dull.
Doesn't appeal anymore,
Narcissistic and empty needs restored.

Lost in all the good gifts,
Focus to sift and re-shift.
Loss of first love,
Need renewed from above.

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

The Place That Roars

                The Place That Roars

How pull back in moment where roar,
Back down and hesitate return to safe shores.
Interpret roar as not enough and blame,
When truth is another person's younger self emoting pain.

What if roar isn't about me?
What if roar is about getting free?
Defiance expressed is about places trapped,
All the baggage needs unpacked.

I am safe no matter the roar,
In the moment we both are restored.
Reactions change as mature,
Both are grounded and secure.

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

The Grass Weeps

                             The Grass Weeps

Grass on ditch bank kneeling prayerfully.
Rain and snow forced it down.
Weary and weeping, bowed at the edge.
Damp, recent heaviness.

Sun is out and the tall tufts over a foot long glisten.
Moistness of contrasting dirt with brown blades.
Accentuated in the softness of morning breaking dawn.
Spring soon will come and burden just a memory.

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

Frost on the Car

               Frost on the Car

Frost on the car, unique scar.
Finger of divine etched the design.
Feathery fern impressed by the unknown.
Few more moments and would be puddles.

Erased clean as if never seen.
A gift of beauty to refocus the day.
Always something to recenter, challenge the heart.
Show up in the moment prepare for the day.

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

Image is of frost on the car this morning.

Sick

                   Sick

Tired of being sick, looking out window.
Only so much introspection into portal of soul.
Mental rest, physical rest, emotional rest, spiritual rest.
Caring for the soul, entire being.

Confronted with all ways comfort when sick.
Yet not all ways of comfort are restoring for soul.
Looking outside and wishing could be there.
Wide open space soul can explore.

Places of beauty and joy resuscitates spirit.
Warmth of sun nurturing all that lives.
Feeling its hot rays cultivates gratitude.
A soft, warm breath soaks into the depths of soul.

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

March Snow

                           March Snow

Familiar sense when walk out doors to a March snow,
Drawn back in time to teenager.
Something about the look, smell, and beauty of youth,
Pulls a youngness to the surface.

Contrasts all around,
Green of grass pierces snow.
Disked fields, chocolate cake with thin vanilla frosting,
Snow melts rapidly.

Gray sky soon to give way,
Anticipation of sun bursting through.
Doves perched together cooing,
Horses neighing, acknowledging me.

Quietness of non-mechanical,
Only sounds are of living things.
Trees resisting the wind,
Footsteps on gravel.

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

Image from this morning in Western Nebraska.

Bubbles

             Bubbles

Memories bubble to surface,
Life giving springs rising.
Invitation to draw a drink,
Revisit the past and integrate.

Stepping into the memory,
New perspectives to explore.
Investigate old surroundings,
Surreal instant in time no more.

Harm held in memory,
Released in the Truth.
Trauma loses power,
Soul more whole.

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

Oatmeal Raisen Cookies

        Oatmeal Raisen Cookies

Simpler times recall,
Grandma making cookies.
Our hands helping put dough on cookie sheets,
Oatmeal rasien and peanut butter cookies.
Ruined for any other cookies, they just aren't grandma's.
Memories fade with time, yet some are triggered,
With the smell of cookies baking, or others close to their texture.
A smile to the face, something that time can never take.

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

Gray

                   Gray

Warmth of late morning gives way,
Distant horizon fades to gray.
Season confused if Winter or Spring,
Ambivalence that nature brings.

Can see the approaching transition,
Animals sense they feed before reposition.
Wind driven rain pelts windows,
Temperature drops begging snow.

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

Image of horizon this morning.

Reckoning

                    Reckoning

When the past comes knocking,
When past and present collide.
Confronted with who once was,
Reckon with who now am.

Reckoning determines future journey,
If resist and deny what's been and what is -- worlds collide.
Incongruence and stress work damage on soul,
Turmoil until release and let go.

Peace comes in the place that past is the past,
Today let it go, no longer defines.
Yes it was, but no longer has power,
Truthful and honest past lost its control.

Untwisted and unraveled to be who I am,
No longer in bondage to all that has been.
Free to explore and go to new places,
Internally light after such a long night.

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

Image of sunrise this week, dawn breaks just as in dark places of soul.

Betrothed

                     Betrothed

To believe worth committing to,
A crucible of two.
Space created of fiery love,
Mingle and mix with heaven above.

Valued and pursued,
Free to be, no longer used.
Honored and validated,
Union together celebrated.

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

Image is chalk art by Colleen Bucks inspired during worship.

Wrestling

                       Wrestling

Wrestle in that place of incongruence,
Between good and evil and what "it" means.
My heart is good,
Yet action don't always match.

The warring of what that "means,"
About who I am.
Black and white thinking,
All good or all bad.

Interpretations and where I take them,
Choices about cycles that find self in.
Not about stopping or controlling cycles,
It's about which cycle.

Moment where choose healthy,
Moment where choose unhealthy.
Neither defines who I am or my heart,
Just expression of inner struggle

How did it get so convoluted?
Attaching value and worth to actions and performance.
Instead of attaching value and worth of who I am with self, God, and others.
That inner place where get stuck playing the event over and over.

The Ground Hog Day moments relived over and over.
Replay it until reconciled in being that just because action doesn't define me.
It doesn't define my heart.

I am more than a performance or action.
I am human, a person, a man.
I sin, fail, make wrong choices.
I am good, do right, succeed and make right choices.

I am not defined by either sin or good.
My heart is good and right with God.
I am an expression of who I Am created me to be.
Loving, caring, passionate, strong, weak, dependent, independent, attached, and connected.

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