24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
in frozen wonderlands
little succulent turtles
grace the window sills
white and plain
the green effusing the room
with a gentle breath
forgetting
the depths of life
are often grasped in plastic hugs
the succulents have dreams
the turtles they weave
will bear the gene of retention
and freedom,
acing lies.
iridescent flitters just to the corner of my eye close enough to touch, but outside of capture small creatures swiping at the web of dreams a visual siren's song to come play away from safety bejeweled wings whirring in motion designed to entrance figments of illusion persuading unsuspecting sleepers to yield beings of fantasy from days of magic and unicorns lay siege on the one's who left them behind
Moving about in younger years,
Sometimes brought laughter, sometimes tears!
This town, that city, a new state of mind.
Always a cool destination,
How many friends did I find?
California was golden alright,
So desperately dry.
Plan a picnic on any summer day,
With not a drop of rain from the sky!!
Boulder, Colorado, Carolina too,
Down south do they call that constant sweat,
Humidity or dew?
I’m glad i landed where I’m at,
Being older now and wiser at that!
Oh, I musn’t forget the freezing tundra of New Hampshire,
As I sigh……
There are two seasons up there…. Winter and the 4th of July!
“Don’t be afraid,”
say the dead-eyed tv anchors.
“There’s nothing you can do.”
Some desks are already
empty
bloodied
silent
devoured.
People are barricaded
inside homes, churches.
They are not safe.
No one is ever safe.
eaten
danger
screaming
devoured.
It just feels so empty,
so hungry.
Maybe one more soul
will fill the aching void.
tired
hungry
manic
devours.
It’s
just
still
so
HUNGRY
Bob Armstrong lost the match, so he’s gotta leave town
There’s no one left to stop the Flame from burning Dothan down
No one is left to save folks in Pensacola, they all might just drown
But rumors around Montgomery say a Savior is on the way
He’s a masked man who’s tough enough to join the Continental fray
A man who’s bad to the bone, and he’s gonna make them all pay
He will take on Ron Fuller, Jos Le Duc and the Mongolian Stomper too
He’s a natural born hero, who stands for everything good and true
There won’t be one single bad guy left standing when this hero is through
The Bullet is loaded for bear and headed down to fight
He will be at the Houston County Farm Center this Friday night
He will avenge his best friend Bob and make everything all right
The Bullet is coming to clear the snakes from the Wiregrass
When the last bell rings Friday night and everything has come to pass
Stories will be told forever of the time The Bullet opened an Armstrong sized can of whoop ass.
My tendency is to rewrite every adjective
A dozen different times
To sketch again that eye and then again
To get THAT note perfect before moving on
While the rest of the bird
Waits in the nest
Waits for a worm
Longs for wings
If Nature made the robins thus
The Earth would be a rotten place
With a burning heart
she rose up from the flames meant
to turn her to ash
and like a phoenix with her
wings of fire conquered the sky
Sliding Sonnet for a Side-Bitch
The air is cold, the night is deep
and I on bended haunches creep
like feral dog, to where you sleep
more like than not, untroubled
I express a desperate whine
outside your door, the thousandth time
open up, oh please be mine
my simpering love redoubled
This pathetic vigil faithfully kept
all the nights while you slept
in company you despised except
when I came close enough to meet them
You pet me, praise me, throw me a bone
then leave me shivering out here alone
outside your oh-so-happy home
promising one day, one day I shall unseat them.
A master’s hand is a brutal thing
when encased inside a metal ring
And swiftly on to the next cheap checkpoint to keep me afloat until I kick into gear…
Happy birthday, you
and now blow out the candles
Your wish goes unheard
Gentle hands lift me up, Whisper sweet things You think I can't hear. Plunge me down Into the soft black, Half bury me. Sweet things once again Now you give me a drink And pat around me. I don't know much About windowsill life But I'm sure I'll grow to like it here.