In Dancing with My Shadow, newcomer Warren K. Olson presents the poems of one man's life. From the pain of Midnight in a Darkened Cathedral to the exuberance of Spring in Dogdom, Olson's work spans the decades, countries, and experiences that have brought him to today. The book is a compilation of poems and essays about daydreams, nightmares, love and loss; many of the entries cover more than one ofthese subject matters within their content. Some of the subjects arefrom his early teens, and all are from a mind with an explosive passionfor life; passion from the moment experienced at the time! The stunning result renders poems carefully crafted to elicit emotion from the reader, painting pictures with words. The masterful work carries readers to places they may have never seen, and people they may have never met, with a clarity and precision that will make them wish they had.

Dancing With My Shadow

Selected PoemsBy Warren K. Olson

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2009 Warren K. Olson
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4490-4835-8

Chapter One

$100 a Month

$100 a month, radio, no TV. A dirty efficiency kitchenette; couch, easy chair, coffee table, lamp. The bedroom, linens furnished, is separated from the rest of the place by a shower curtain that matches the shower curtain around the tub; $100 a month.

French doors that open to an creaky balcony, and a view of the valley and stream below. Stairs, nearly as steep as a ladder, creak more than the balcony. A closet and dresser that will hold more clothes than I have with me, and with the odor of fresh cedar; all for $100 a month.

This place has privacy, a clean spot to park my car and outlets enough for my stereo and guitar. What the hell, I'll only be here late in the night and on Sundays, for two months.

My first place! A paradise in the prairie (in knotty pine) complete with a charcoal grill! 5 miles from town and a hundred miles from nowhere. This will be a good place to play some rock-n-roll, drink 3.2% beer, and strum a Hank Williams song when I'm blue.

The good in me left with my innocence; I'm running to something and not away from anything. I'm starting a job that I may not be able to handle, a life that scares the shit out of me, facing the demons of my past, and those of my future!

It's getting dark now and the lamp will bring some comfort until I can find something more than farm news on the radio. For some reason it seems cold in here and I feel like I could puke! A whole new world, all for $100 a month!

Almond Eyes

Dark hair frames her face; eyebrows arch as her eyes rise to meet mine. Leaving two bodies close within love's space, dark hair under starlit skies.

Dark almond - shaped eyes that glisten; eyes that smile an internal smile, causing a rapid heart to hasten, to hold love near for a while.

Dark skin that reflects the moonlight, creating cream-colored lines as the moon shines; lighting a path for a lover to trace in the night ... to savor all that he finds.

A soft voice that gets softer with a whisper, with a sigh as he moves along her path. A body that trembles with involuntary gestures, a swelling of previously unfelt emotion, one she dreams will last.

The silence of the night is broken by the sound of breathing, and carried on love's wind. The two lay together listening to words unspoken, each praying this time never ends

Ancient Ones

The spirits of the Ancient Ones visit this land often. The misty apparitions walk the river bluffs, stopping now and then to shade their saddened eyes with their hands as they stare longingly onto the vast plains before them.

The plains have changed from tallgrass to wheat, and are noticeably void of wild game. Once this open space stretched for hundreds of miles, now it is carved into manicured homesteads and symmetrical fields.

The older children of the Ancient Ones roamed the plains freely until deceit robbed them of that freedom; that deceit still holds them on the least inhabitable places within their universe.

The Ancient Ones shake their heads in sorrow and weep openly over the collective heart of their children's children that is cupped in ancient hands. They turn and walk slowly into the place of their dreams, and disappear .........................in the manicured present.

Big Simon

Big Simon is an Indian, lives at the end of the reservation; he lives here in a wall-less prison as does the rest of the Sioux Nation.

Simon does not have a job, for here there is very little to do, except to fish - when they're biting, and hunt - when they're running, and trust the BIA will take care of you.

Simon tries to supplement his government checks when he's able; but he did more so in the distant past; part for his pride.... then just to put more food on the table.

He helped raise four boys, fought in the Asian jungle, and ran cattle for some of his life; and early on he took to drinking, cost him his boys and his wife.

He spends most of the time telling old stories and trying to get a ride into town. The stories regale in a past of fake glories and a careful listener can see the false crown.

Two pair of jeans, three shirts, all faded, not a lot to show for a lifetime it seems; and that which is left the man has degraded leaving him with only his self-broken dreams.

Big Simon can't change and the system won't let him, and so he lives with life's greatest fears. Just another poor Indian stuck on the reservation, riding the trail of his own Trail Of Tears.

Bittersweet Tropic

Romance in the tropics, browned bodies holding on to each other, and to the moment.

It's hard to tell the difference between the sounds of the surf, and that of two hearts rapidly beating.

Salt water spray, or the salty taste of sweat; music composed by the birds, or a chorus within two minds?

Soft, sand covered dark curves, damp black hair to the waist, and a smile that hides time's passing.

The heat of passion confused with that of the sun; no sleep, as night turns too quickly into day. and one hears the jets leave hourly, so you must hold tight to this place ... to this time.

The bittersweet scenes of romance in the tropics, ...........as you dance to the waves night music.

Bobby

You see him walking the streets from morning to night, taking time off for his part-time jobs. He shuffles along, cigarette in tight lips, dressed in old faded shirt and...