Wednesday, December 08, 2004


We welcome you to your new life
Upon this rock called Earth.
We grant in you all blessings be;
The peace, the joy, the mirth.

May you have all the air to breathe
That you will ever need;
Abundant bread to feed your soul
And share it without greed.

Oh, child of mine; oh, daughter ours,
Welcome to freedom, come.
In artful ways, spend all your days,
In playful realm, not glum.

In winsome mask shall you employ
Beguiling strands of whimsy.
Bedeck the days, 'tis yours to do,
With slithy toves of mimsey.

May you find that sunny days
And cloudy days, as well.
Give grace by divergent means
Upon you, gentle belle.

For you can sing a song of joy
No matter what the season;
To bring forth love so we may see
A zest for life most pleasin'.

Now, here you lie within your crib,
When all is done and said;
Let slumber rest your innocence;
Easy lay your tousled head.

We look at you, at your sweet smile;
You have come to bless this world.
We take this time, we take this while,
To welcome our little girl.

Norfolke '99


We are of Stardust made
And have been here since the beginning
If there ever was one
We will be here til the end
If there ever is one

If ever there was a Creation
This is it
Right here, right now
And nothing is missing

Are we not full of wonder
Are we not wonderful
For we are of Stardust made

(c) Norfolke '97


I wrote out a poem called
With the familiar line “And miles to go before I sleep”
I wrote this work by Robert Frost in pen
On a lined yellow pad of paper

My hand moved the ink
Over and around vowel and consonant
Up stroke and line curving each letter
To bring forth the words

Had the feeling of completeness
In each line and thought
Felt the joy of writing a famous poem
And what Robert may have felt writing it first
I did not have to edit a thing
For Robert had already done that part

This was not just a piece to read and leave
But to be involved with; in the creativity of it
The pleasure was mine as it had been his
We wrote together

Knowing the emotion of writing my own poetry
In words from my lexicon and mind
The feeling and intuition of my soul
I share as he shared the experience sublime

Someday I will write another poem
Maybe in my words or someone else’s
For to put pen to paper
Is to open and create

(c) Ron Eklof 2003


A wandering minstrel I
Met a fair spinstral by
The wood on a sprightly fall day.

And in my insouciant way
Asked the lass for a lay.
To which she spit in me eye.

Tut, tut, my dear little slut,
'tis it not time for a rut?
Let us pass the day in the hay.

To wit she replied
All haughty and snide,
“You sir, are a rascal, a bounder and a cad.“

I could only respond,
“And you, Madame,
Are a mackerel, a flounder and a cod.”

(c) Norfolke 2000


Naked came I from the womb of woman
And naked am I 'neath this cloth.
Yea, come the end of my time,
And I'll naked lie, eternal.

When the winds of change
Wrestle the palms by the shore,
And the heavens heave tumult below,
I stand a rock on the barren sands,
Braving the forces infernal.

'Tis an arrogant one who flippant be;
'Tis the foolish one who pushes his pride
Beyond the scope of rational thought;
To outwardly show what no one should see:
The tormented child held internal.

Jut of the chin says come punch me now.
Knock this chip off my shoulder.
Get up seven times
After seven times down,
A practice repeated diurnal.

Where, oh where has my little soul gone?
Where, oh where can it be?
'Neath a stony cold heart?
In the harsh words of hate?
In the icy black ink of my journal?

Naked came I from the womb of woman
And naked am I 'neath this cloth.
Yea, come the end of my time
And I'll naked lie, eternal.



A chilly Florida morning
Seems colder than the north country
Where winter gales impale the neck
And shiver me timbers down

'Tis colder here where the feet are numb
And the spine recoils from draft
I snug the jacket in wrapped embrace
And you,
Cold heart,
You say,
"It's only 48."


Norfolke '01


He walks along the shore with his companion
A bright summer morning, air fresh, sky blue,
The cool sand crunching under their feet;
Gulls call in the distance.

He stops to pick up a shell, she walks on.

Iridescent green and red shine in its inner spiral.
Intricate striations and knurls on its outside.
It is beautiful, perfect, a keeper.

He takes it to his friend.
She looks at it, observes that it is pretty,
But, it has a piece missing;
It's broken and not whole.
"You're not going to keep it, are you?"
She moves on, looking for her keepers
Further along the shore.

He walks with her,
Still holding the shell,
And knows that, to him,
It is whole and complete,
In and of itself.

It is not deminished by what is absent,
But is perfect just the way it is;
Just so.

He puts it in his pocket.

Rather than looking to find perfection,
He finds perfection where he looks.

Oh, look at that...

Norfolke '99

Tuesday, December 07, 2004


I SAW A WOMAN with rings on her toes,
Rings in her ears and rings in her nose.
She brings her persona wherever she goes.
Wants to be diff'rent, I guess, I suppose.

I SAW A WOMAN on the way to her work,
Not as a waitress, not as a clerk.
She wore a grey suit, making ev’ry head jerk.
Wants to be diff'rent, I guess it must work.

I SAW A WOMAN with blue hair on her head.
Her rouge was not blush, but orange instead.
Insouciant lips were painted blood red.
Wants to be diff'rent 'til the day she drops dead.

I SAW A WOMAN with mind all asunder,
Going around stealing the thunder,
Spouting faux pas and political blunder.
Wants to be diff'rent, I guess it’s no wonder.

I SAW A WOMAN wearing gypsy-like clothes,
All in a jumble, this costume she chose,
Some of it shabby, like the runs in her hose.
Wants to be diff'rent, I guess, I SuppHose.

(c) Norfolke '99


I will not, cannot, must not pursue my dream
But crush any bliss I would have
And hide my light under bushel, within dark closet
Beneath ignoble rock

Not for me a pursuit of legend, joy, and great stature
Rather, in gloom of day, I plod the drudgery road
No star to guide, no ship to return
As none was put out to sea

Yea, I fear of death, simple evil
And the unseen power of an unglimpsed future
I revile these gifts wrapped within
Have contempt for talents that lie undisturbed
Yet ask no grant or favor to break the chains in me

So, keep this fold upon mine eye
That I not see through disquieting fog
Ray no light to reach my skin
Nor allow me view the moon of aspiration

I clutch my cloak of dark despair
Muse be gone from me
When Time is come to loose my mortal illusion
I dread to meet feared fire

Yet let it come while I am unready

Ron Eklof (c) 2002


So the hair on my chinny-chin-chin
Is better than a hair on my nose.
Can there be a whinny-win-win?
It goes without saying, but I'll say it, I suppose

That the rhyme of all reason
Calumny tantamount to treason
In the vilified season
This hair sure ain't pleasin'

Let us guillotine the offending shaft
Off with it's 'ed, send it to bed, no, to the floor instead
But, we are rebellious, and not a little bit daft
Yet like sheep to the sheerer, to the barber we’re lead

Is this what we want? To cut what we soweth?
It’s utterly fantastic, a solution so drastic
To sever so sublime a gentle growth
Of this umbrage, I’ve become quite spastic

For the eye of the beholder, beholds a great wrong
In public I'm told it, in private I'm scolded
To bring my appearance to high standards erelong
The ego is crushed; it is bent and is folded

Belay your baleful eye; withhold your viewing
of this hair you're eschewing
Who do you think I am, a pimpled-faced soda jerker?
For it's not just the nose, but my persona you're skewing
Me thinks I'll go Islamic and wear a grey burkha

With slits for the eyes and shod in my sandals
I hide in the tents, hang out with the camels
In darkened alcoves lit with small candles
Avoiding the glances of two-legged mammals

I love this little one curled upon once proud snout
Our lives are filled with pain and sorrow
I want you here, hair; others want you out
Be us resigned; hair today, gone tomorrow




Come to me, o muse of pen
And course across the page
Let words flow out of sense
And paper be thy stage

Let fly the ink to indelible stain
From a heart that finds its speech
Once writ it lies for every eye
To see the inward reach

May this trail of penciled lead
Scribe over smooth pulped wood
A tale of import and delight
Easily understood

To be carried from this day forth
In hearts ever young
On lips, place this song
That it be ever sung

For ‘tis not I who creates what’s writ
But serving for thy use
I give you chance to make clear
What once seemed obtuse

Tho’ accolades of hand and word
May come to find my ear
I, in simple gratitude,
Thank you for being here

Ron Eklof (c) 2002


After "Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese." - G. K. Chesterton, I submit the following:


Silent frommage
Contained it holds firm, odorless.
Yet freed from the bonds of containment
Crumbles unto the plate, aroma unleashed.
Feta compli

Sunday, November 28, 2004


Sounds of the waves splash in my ears
Squealing seagulls swirl overhead
A child throws her bread into the air
So, the gulls, they hover and strike

Strong gusty breezes blow on my skin
While a bright summer sun bakes the sand
Towering clouds move in from the west
And sounds of the waves fill my ears...

Norfolke © ‘98


In this time of shock and grief
This place of loss and sadness
I wonder as to the meaning
And see but a faint spark of light

This time we share with each other
These few precious moments soon end
Things and people move into our lives
And move on before our goodbyes

You've shown I should waste not this moment
Our differences are to be cherished
We are children all, of the same creator
And are here to love one another

In your warmth, your kindness, your giving
You've blessed many lives, even mine
In our thought, our hearts and our souls
You are present

Each will lay down his coil
To enter the spirit more fully
Today is a gift to the Creator
And we are the better in the giving

So, it is with joy I feel your presence
With grace, know that I love you
Thank you for being alive while I am
And showing me the nature of things

Ron Eklof
March 27, 1998


Here we stand, in love we be
Not falling in love are we
But, infused with love be we
Standing in love, quietly

While all around in dervish swirl
Passions on and off take whirl
In and out of heat we twirl
Standing in love, boy and girl

At rest amid the merry chase
To have and hold, on going race
Arriving at a better place
Standing in love, face to face

Warm in our arms, safe from the cold
Whispered words in ears we're told
Of cherished love and passion bold
Standing in love we behold

We give to us, one to one
What's returned is gratefully done
Grace is ours from time begun
Standing in love, second to none

Norfolke '98


In the seamless presence of all that is and is not
Words merely hint at... it
The big it, the little it
The it of breadth and depth

An image comes... of Japanese print
An image of immense craggy mountains and misty valleys
With one, and only one
Small, very small man journeying on a path
Through this landscape of grandeur

He is slightly right of the center
In the bottom quadrant, headed to the right
Dressed in simple robe with flat broad hat
A staff for support
A begging bowl tied to his waist

He seems to have nothing
Nothing to call a possession
Yet humbly he has it all

Everything that is or is not belongs to him
For he is in the presence of it all
Has dominion of it all
Yet, he walks the path quietly

The vast surroundings; written in stone
Written in trees and moss and mist
As if...
As if...
THIS is the presence
THIS is the whole creation
THIS is it.
... and nothing is missing

Ron Eklof (c) 2000


As I pilgrim to journey's end
I stop for nature's rest
To let the rustling Aspen leaves
The song of birds in nest
Soothe my heart, feed my soul

While gossamer clouds restless move
Across the azure sky
I drowse beneath a shady tree
With heavy lidded eye
Drift away, dreams unfold

Arms open to embrace the wind
I walk on solid clouds
To kiss the sky, to feel the bliss
To see the angel crowds
I realize I am whole

Now twist and turn, I'm inside out
My skin surrounds it all
The universe, within me now
It's farthest reaches fall
Within my grasp to hold

A butterfly arouses me
It flutters by my face
I leave behind the fancied flight
Back to my road of grace
Steady progress, my goal

Norfolke '98


it was harder, then, to let you go
but, you wanted to leave
i thought the journey was ours
not yours alone

i on the dock
not willing to untie the mooring
the vast uncharted sea
was not for this heart

no, better a cozy nestling place
warm and secure with you
away from the cold forbidding wind

then i saw we both were free
your journey yours
i had mine

it was easier now to let go
not at a dock was i
but, in my own craft
as had always been
with a course to set
and a sail to hoist

lashed to each other
for just a while
we untied from our moorings

(c) Ron Eklof '98


The stars are in the heavens,
The sand along the shore.
The waves continue lapping
Until the Earth's no more.

I'm not a star in the heavens,
Nor a grain upon the shore,
But a human among many,
No less, and again, no more.

I've come to know I'm right sized,
I have a balanced view.
Not better than, nor worse than,
But, in fact, equal to.

Norfolke © 1998


With no ground beneath to set the feet
No mantle to cloak the shoulders
To hide nor warm the body

Naked with nothing to touch in any direction
For there are no directions
Nor any direction
No where to go as I am already here

Afloat in space beyond measure
No where to turn
For all turnings are the same
Rebellion loosens its bonds
The noise inside subsides

Steady amid the quiet of no thought
Feelings, yes; intuition, yes
Yet, nothing to register them with
No things to scribe them with

A knowing
A knowing of the unknowable
Not, knowing the unknowable
But, in the presence of it
And, content to be here

Not alone
At peace

Ron Eklof (c) 2003


I set you free
Free to be where you want to be.
And if that place is not with me,
I set you free, I set you free.

For it's only me who lets you be
Who you are or want to be.
'Tis only I who lets me see
That I am free to set you free.

And in that deep dark mystery
Of want and need: insecurity
I move my heart gratefully
To set me free, and let you be.

(c) Ron Eklof '98


An infant became he.
After years of living,
Once more a babe he was;
If only for a brief moment.

Swaddled in his crib
Familiar faces peered over him.
White fleecy clouds
In the bluest of skies
Gave glowing halos to their heads;
And shafts of light streamed from above.

He gurgled and cooed;
Clear sounds made,
New eyes to see all,
Fresh skin to touch the whole world;
And he nestled in warmth,
Bathed in love.

Too soon broken, this rememory
Too soon harkened back to this present time.

Yet, is he not of all ages?
All stages of life?
As old as Methuselah?
As young as a thought?
Is this not his dying day,
His birthing day,
And every stage of life at once?

In the fullness of this moment,
This eternal now,
Be ye nestled in warmth,
Be ye bathed in love.

(c) Norfolke '98


A glint in the eye
A rock in the hand
Me against you

We've always thrown stones
Be they rocks, words, or bones
Be they arrowheads on wood and feather
Balls from cannons, bullets from guns
Bombs bursting in air
Guided missiles piloted by human hands or not

Yet behind the thrown object
Resides a darkened heart
Separating us from each other
For you are one of them
Whoever "them" may be
And I am one of us
Whoever "us" may be

We have not the same gods
Nor drink at the same well
Our mothers knew not the same father
You are heathen unto me
And know not the meaning of love

As I recoil from the vileness of thee
I hurl these words, aimed at your heart

Change your ways or else!

Oh, for the tranquil peaceable times
Will we not learn to forgive for forgiveness sake?
To do unto as if you were me?

You first.

September 14, 2001

Saturday, November 27, 2004


When the get up and go has got up and went
When the wad to spend has already been spent
And the comely young lass is a thing of the past
What do we do, Mr. Moon? What do we do?

Do we honor our partners and allemande left?
Do-si-do to the south and traipse to the west?
Do we Fiddle-dee-dee and falder-all-dangle?
Give us a clue, Mr. Moon. Give us one clue

'Neath the Moon and stars in the heavens above
Is there heartless abandon, or is there true love?
I'd go where I druther, abandon my brother
If the fork ran away with my spoon

So my serious nature gives way to my silly
Let me act as a child and strum willy-nilly
To blazes with hearts so cold air turns chilly
For here beats the drum of my life

Put away my remonstrance, set aside my chagrin
The judgments I make, make my head spin
Tangled and twisted, this turmoil within
Oh! Mr. Sun! A new day is dawning

Dapple this day with love songs and flowers
For the bell tolls now and tells of the hours
When sunbeams stream 'round yon towers
Where knights are still bold, ladies still maidens

Whither thee cometh and whither thee goest
Hold one another and dance with the moest
Spring in your step, a bright gleam in your eyes
And laugh with the gift of surprise
And laugh with the gift of surprise

(c) Norfolke '00

Tuesday, November 23, 2004



The heavens are less bright this night
For a star has fallen to Earth
Its brief candle out

As white scar slashed
Across the clear blue sky
A fragile cocoon tumbled
To the breast of its motherland
Oh, the humanity…

Hopes and dreams
Skills and talents
Were dashed this day
Before our eyes
Before our hearts

Yet, we will go onward
Once more, human endeavor
Will rise from our sorrow
Seeking renewed faith in our selves
In our communal efforts
For we will not stay where we are

Our destiny is to steadily press on
Building upon the shoulders and minds
Of those who came before
With eyes open to new discovery
Wherever we may find it
Ron Eklof

Thursday, February 13, 2003


There are those who walk in front
And those who walk behind
Yet, those who walk side by side
Oh, they’re the bestest kind

For our journey ‘pon this globe
Is too short, to be alone
One ahead and one behind
Away from the equal zone

Now our hands must unclasp
For one has gone ahead
To help prepare a place
Why you, not me, instead

But, this is what I must accept
That life is rife with pain
And I know not why that is so
Our love knew only gain

Except, you have not gone away
But stay within my heart
I know you in my senses full
For we are not apart

I see you in the twinkling stars
Feel you in a summer breeze
I touch you in my daughter’s kiss
Hear you in the rustling trees

Our paths met, but for a while
Our lives enhanced, became enmeshed
You have left this mortal path
Yet, I still walk with you, enmeshed

Ron Eklof 2004


In the land of many visions I roam
and enter a room with one I have not met before now.
Her home is welcoming, her smile subtle.
We step outside onto a short path to the treed panorama of the canyon.
We linger at a wood sculpture, of a seal perhaps.
Short logs split in half, jointed roughly,
with a small hand rubbed stub on the top,
smoothed as if an upturned nose.
Exquisite play of a master heart,
where a deft touch shows an artful vision.

We return to the room and music is the muse, hear.
Mellow the tone where few surfaces glare and shine.
The mood is subdued, soft and quiet the light,
Zen the expression.

Through shared smoke comes the land of many visions:

Life is hard and good on the ranch,
Muscles ache and sweat comes easy,
Dust and spit, whip, rope, horse and muck,
Yells in the wild wind, smells in the tame barn,
Work to be done that doesn’t end at nightfall
Hunger in the belly for familiar table.

And the Easterner comes with his think about,
rather than his do about.
He comes for change,
with an eye of uncommon sense
in a place of horse sense skill.

I turn to the cabin with soft and warm bed
and smells of lilac and musk.
The candle casts a flickering shadow world onto the logs
and we retreat to the comfort of tender flesh
with dreams of rooms to enter,
paths to follow,
with companions of short duration.

Norfolke 2004