SCOTT ALEXANDER MCKENZIE

I see you there, my Dear, I have observed,
I watched, I listened, also analyzed,
I know your quirks, both blatant and reserved,
And through it all, I loved and sympathized,
 
I see your plight, I fought that front-line war,
The back, the forth, the struggle for control,
The fruitless tree takes all and drains your store,
Then leaves you stranded bare on sandy shoal,
 
You asked me for advice, so here I go,
Take stock of what is real, and count it twice,
Let go what helps you not; excess cargo,
Is what you cannot take… at any price,
 
My Dear, ‘tis dark today but could be worse,
Please find your freedom here in simple verse.
​
- Scott Alexander McKenzie

The journey began when son became man,
And daughter had found her own way,
Dust had befallen that old frying pan,
Sad pall of sad mother’s d’pressing dismay,

What’s this? No hand wave ‘mid confetti rain,
No chest leaning sprint through finish line tape,
Just dark denouement through chaotic pain,
That cannot be dulled by Chardonnay grape?

She set on grand quest to find her reward,
Golden object for years she’d been earning,
‘Twas stunning surprise, the more she explored,
With each step ‘long this journey she’s learning,

No endings exist; she could wander the Earth,
Just freedom, beginnings, and hope of rebirth.

​- Scott Alexander McKenzie

Sharp hoe and rake disturb the settled soil,
While shears, when used, will cleanly cut that limb,
And spade shall uproot weed as mortal foil,
Could tending life in gardens be more grim?

Disturb, uproot, and cut, ‘tis what we must,
When vibrant, happy flowers we intend,
Yes, courage to let go takes faith and trust,
Yet vital if ye seek thee to transcend,

True too with human gardens, don’t you see?
Tho merciless and callous it may seem,
To pull up roots and cut that bond from thee,
‘Tis oft the only way; thy soul to beam,

My Dear, I know it’s painful, but you’ll see,
Disturb your life and soon you’ll have your glee.

​- Scott Alexander McKenzie

I see your lips move; I can’t hear a sound,
‘Cept the buzz ‘midst the fog and the ringing,
In this mind, thousands of questions abound,
Dark news from you, doctor, still stinging,

Tho’ tears: they shall be not wasted on thee,
For my husband, my sister, my friends,
And faith in the Lord bring comfort to me,
While this cancer, from me, will be cleansed,

I’ve found that objects don’t matter, you see,
Ev’ry sunrise in morning brings bliss,
Fam’ly and gardens shall feed my esprit,
And rescue my soul from this darkened abyss,

Know this, before you would label me "ill,"
That God, for me, has a Grand Purpose still.

​- Scott Alexander McKenzie

Wee lass in deep blue dress and soft white lace,
When only small, did find her lifelong call,
‘Twas carry water; share her love and grace,
To nurture blooms, while hers, she could forestall,

Young wife in deep blue pain and hard white face,
Through gritted teeth and scream, brought forth new life,
‘Twas months she carried water in her vase,
Now puddled there as symbol of that strife,

Tired mum in deep blue strain and fine white ‘bode,
Served rhubarb pies, while kitchen table cries,
‘Came river of regret; ‘twas fastly flowed,
To raging sea, replete with blackened skies.

Tempest gone; she’s stranded on this isle alone,
To ponder deep blue sea and soft white foam.

​- Scott Alexander McKenzie

‘Tis calm we feel when bloodied baby born,
For in the past is pain of labor gone,
Hind gnash-ed teeth and tight white-knuckle scorn,
Is found the peace of pure blue mountain dawn,

What dawn without the rage of vi’lent sun?
What sprout without the mire of filthy soil?
From dark springs light; from death comes new life sprung,
And peace we need... conceived through great turmoil,

But this, we’ve always known; what cause, malaise?
Forgetfulness of hopeful heart, it seems,
In need of renewed view in God’s grand ways,
Which are immune to human timing schemes,

So breathe, my dear, have patience in this pain,
For soon, your calm will come... like gentle rain.

- Scott Alexander McKenzie

Carolina highlands, I love thee so,
Where, from mine humble forest perch, I spy,
The colors of thy quilt in vivid show,
And gentle woman seemingly awry,

Free with flight, I glide to nearby twig,
To find despondent pose and heavy sighs,
Appearing as poor widowed goddess, Frigg,
With song, I ask, “What reason for these cries?”

“I see you there,” she says, “Do not mind me,
I’m merely seeking peace from troubled ways,
I fear my only option is to flee, 
As one and only cure for this malaise.”

“I see,” say I, with ruffled feather preen,
"For now, I gladly sit with thee, my queen."

​- Scott Alexander McKenzie

You say: the world, it doth bewilder me,
I am now new and these are complex things,
E’en bloodied scrape ‘pon this but youthful knee,
Commixed in pain; with raw confusion brings,

I say: those moraled stories writ by thee,
What scrawled in ebb tide sand with driftwood wand, 
Were simply passing whims ‘fore life’s great sea,
Returned to He, not ye, who was unfond,

You see not me, nor do you seem to care,
As I for you in my lamenting ways,
To enterprising deed, worthwhile affair, 
Just trav’ler caught in unrelenting haze,

Oh, me!  I call to rooms devoid of thee,
Hear mine hallowed call: let thine eyes see!

​- Scott Alexander McKenzie