Glass of Water

Sea of Life by Whiteagle Magnus aka Will Magnus
Image: “Sea of Life” by Whiteagle Magnus aka Will Magnus

Glass of Water

A glass of clear water
Holds a bit of a river
To quench your thirsty body
But only in the river can you bathe
Words are drinks of water
Quenching a minds thirst to know
But it is a great river of love
Where you bathe a soul

Glasses come
In many shape and sizes
And each can hold some water
For you to take a drink
The river has many names
So people from many places
Can find it on their maps
But it is the caring waters of life
That loving wash over you
And satisfy your thirst

Dewey Dirks


Small Things

Hi folks 🙂 Be sure to take a look at my fourth book, “Lullabies and Legends,” over on A lot of people have been asking me for another book of poetry and this is it. It is available for reading on all the current devices like Android phones and tablets, PC’s, Kindles, iPhones and iPads. Here is a sample poem and link to the book.

Small Things

Just last Wednesday I had a blowout with my wife
When all the shouting and throwing things was done
I figured I’d better get out of the house
Take a walk, I told myself
Let things cool down to a low boil

I walked slowly down the street
To the park three block’s up and three block’s over
There I bought some stale bread at the hot dog stand
Found a bench and sat down by an old man wrinkled and gray
We were quiet for a long while
Throwing bit’s and bites of wheat bread
To the pigeon’s that wandered by now and then

The old guy had the kind hint of a permanent smile
He seemed quite happy and very content
Got me wondering what advice he might give me
There from the twilight of his life
I said, “Old man, I’ll tell you
Life at thirty-two looks pretty damn bad
What makes you so happy
With you in your eighties
And death’s door waiting to open just down the street?”

He smiled a little more and said in a voice soft and quiet
“You know, when I was young I wanted whole lot of things
Later, I learned to want a few things a whole lot
But in the fullness of time I’ve found
That much of what has given me
The greatest happiness in life
Can all be put into just one word.”
“And what word is that?” I asked
His eyes sparkled
As he gave a good-hearted bit of bread to a bird
“Linore,” he said

“She is my lady
Linore waits for me at home
In a little while, I’ll get up from this bench
And wander on back
I’ll probably find her in the dining room
With a calico cat on her lap
When I walk in, she’ll look up kindly and say
“Hi baby, how did it go for you today?”
Listen son, Linore is just a tiny little thing
Like me, she has gone very gray
But when I look at her I see
A half a million memories all rolled up inside
Half a million things to think about
Lingering quietly there in her turquoise eyes
They are small things
Stuff you’d hardly mention day-to-day
Things that most people never even notice
Or take for granted and cast aside
But I think about them all day long, every day

In Linore I see ten-thousand kisses
Scattered across fifty-five years
Ten-thousand times her soft hair
Has brushed up against my arm
Ten-thousand times her head has rested on my chest
Ten-thousand conversations
Bright or wise, idle or sad
Ten-thousand jokes and wise cracks
Adding a little happy spice and pepper
To the passing days
Ten-thousand smiles
Ten-thousand “I love you’s”
Always from the soul, always good to hear
And at the end of ten-thousand tough days
Ten-thousand cuddles in bed after the lights went out
Ten-thousand times we have taken each other’s hand
Ten-thousand times I’ve felt her gentle embrace
Ten thousand times her face has lifted up my day
Ten thousand times I’ve looked in her eyes
And seen the bright spark that dances inside

Small things
Things you’d hardly notice
But if you weave them all together
Across the long, long years
They tell a grand tale
That is epic and eloquent and entirely uncommon
A tale written by two small souls
With two small pen’s
A story written by Linore and I
That is worth telling over and over again

Now son, you get up and go on home
And when you do, keep to the small things
Keep them handy
Keep them close by
Keep on remembering them
They are what will get you through the long year’s ahead
They can make your life heroic
A romance that you live every day
If you let them, they can be ten-thousand things
That together
Are so much more than just a bunch of parts




Fears, regrets, lost hopes,
failures and smashed dreams
can chase you, chase you
in the shadows until
they catch you like a disease.
Building insidious inner demons,
they try to overwhelm you,
put blinders on your eyes,
tell you that you have
no freedom of choice,
tell you that all the world
is forsaken and made of pain.
Each time they win a battle,
they get a little stronger
If they win too many times,
they’ll bind you with fear
and suffocate you with ignorance
trying to snuff your life spark out.

Each time you rise
to meet a new day,
you win the prize
of one more chance at life.
As you face the day,
with every choice you make
to believe in yourself
in spite of them, you win.
Each time you embrace them
teaching them of compassion
you win against them.
Each time you stand up to them
all or alone in the darker
alleys of your mind,
you win a battle with them.

If you win enough battles
by believing in your own magic
they’ll transform
into peculiar allies—
You’ll learn from them
to have even greater
empathy and compassion.
They’ll become gargoyles
who protect you
with an amour of scars
that they’ve created,
guarding you against
any new strife you chance to face
in the long years ahead.

I’ve fought many of them
many times over the years
and I have many scars
because of it.
But my gargoyles have learned
respect for my spirit,
because I know in each place
they pierced me in times past,
in the white of my scars
shines the light of the sun,
and moon, and stars.

Dewey Dirks

Write the Silence

Write the Silence

It was a slow weekday down at Bell’s Tavern
Pretty Sally and I were the only ones around
She tends bar half way through the week
Serving tall drinks, smiles and good conversation
We talked a bit about her new apartment,
We talked about her family and her friends,
We talked a bit about the weather,
Then we talked a bit about all the souls
You can happen meet in a bar now and then

She said, “John, you know, I really hate having
A hospital two blocks up the street
Sometimes I just don’t know what to say
People come in having terrible times
I feel so sorry for them
Sick themselves with chemo and cancer
Or loosing people who are close to them

I said, “I’m a writer and I paint the world
With words and a pen, so I think about what people
Might say to each other all the time
You know, sometimes there’s really nothing you can say
There’s times when words just utterly fail
And there’s also feelings
That don’t have any words to go with them
Then we were quiet for a little while
And Sally walked off to make busy
By folding a few bar towels

When she came back I said, “I used to think
The hardest part of my kind of work
Was how to say things so well
That it moved people to tears
But now I know the hardest part for a writer
Is how to write the silence”

Just then someone walked through the door
Sally glanced at him quickly and gave me
A quiet hint of smile
Then she put on a broader smile
And went off to greet her new customer

Dewey Dirks

Universe is a Coral

Universe is a Coral

The Universe and the biosphere
Of our Mother Earth are corals
Intricate, colorful and complex,
Yet simple like a rock

Now, a coral is something in and of itself
But it is also a colony
Made of many small lifeforms called polyps,
Each one, something in and of itself
And within every polyp
Is the potential to make a whole coral

A coral would not be the same coral
Without the sum total of all the polyps that it’s made of
Likewise, the Universe and our Earth Mother
Are things incomprehensibly vast in and of themselves
But without each and every one of the ten-thousand trillion
Lives contained therein,
Would not be the same Universe or Earth

Dewey Dirks