Posted: October 11, 2015 in poem, poet, poetry
Tags: poem, poet, poetry
It is an unsettled time and it is hard to think
I’d like to write a beautiful poem or story
with flowing words and thoughts of love, peace and harmony.
But I sit in the dark , eyes glazed, fingers frozen
Trying only to think of what’s for breakfast, the yard needs mowing, the car washed
Finally a weekend from work.
And wondering where is the visit of the rabbit I watch each day!
My mind is full of grandkids first days at school
and how my children’s new home and job are doing.
People I love are entering and leaving hospitals and doctor’s appointments.
and I’m not feeling too well myself.
And where is that damn rabbit!
Such is the life of John
Posted: October 9, 2015 in Boobs, poem, poet, poetry
Tags: boobs, free verse, life, love, lunacy, poem, poet, poetry
When nothing else is left
we will think of what we had
When nothing else is left to do
we will search for a thing not done
The finish line is never reached
For there will be the end
A knowing man may slow the pace
And doubt that the race will be run again
When we slow to a steady walk
And watch others still run and fall
We take a breath, throw off our shoes
and see that it was not a race at all.
Posted: October 4, 2015 in crap, Quotes
Tags: conjecture, crap, quotes
Looking at this blank page I am wondering what will soon pour from my thoughts. The progress of my project, my mundane but interesting observations or my latest pet peeve. I have nothin’. At times like these I usually look for a quote to prime my mind.
“Blood is thicker than water.” But I’m not sure if it’s any thicker than any other relationship can be. When you think about it you realize that water’s very very thin and it’s not much of a comparison.. Although I can think of one or two relatives that have had ice water in their veins.
“A big tree attracts the woodsman’s axe,” Hmmmmm…. may be some truth there.
“Beware of the Bear when he tucks in his shirt.” I have no frickin idea what that’s about.
“Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.” Was that written before or right after the Trojan Horse incident? I would be amused to think they ignored their own advice.
“Better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.” Ok, who said this first, Mark Twain, Abe Lincoln or Proverbs of Solomon . I hope Mark Twain, I would hate to think I was quoting the bible all these years.
“Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.” or “The pen is mightier than a sword”. Which?
“Always care about your flowers and your friends. Otherwise they’ll fade, and soon your house will be empty.” Deep.
That’s all I’ve got today but always remember “The world is your oyster.” Go for it Baby!
Editor’s note : Earlier this post was titled “Wisdom or Horse Crap”, it has been changed to “Wisdom or Waste” in an effort to soften John’s image.
Posted: October 1, 2015 in poet, poetry
Tags: lunacy, poem, poet, poetry
Again we are told Where.
The invisible where.
Searching for the mystic chords of memory
we were told binds us to the graves
of the brave, young and the innocent.
These thin chords made only of the light strings
of loud sounds and trailing smoke.
So easily absorbed, so quickly dispersed among the mist.
Chords so soon broken and forgotten.
And still not touched
by the better angels of our nature.
* Italics, two phrases from A. Lincoln inaugural speech.
Afraid we have no binding memory or better angels, Abe.
Posted: September 28, 2015 in freeverse, poetry
Tags: free verse, poem, poetry
I threw a rock at the moon
It will hit sometime Thursday afternoon
Just a small rock
It probably won’t hurt anyone up there
but I just had to do it.
I just had to tell it
I just had to let it know
That I like it better full and bright
shining down on me
Is it only me.
You see, the moon threatened to turn off last night
pull the plug, take a break, draw the shades, hide in the shadows
I couldn’t just stand there
and watch it turn that shade of red then black
I had to let it know
Surely there were others
that were throwing rocks at the moon last night..
Why do I hesitate?
putting words in the improper order
dreaming of the moon the clouds the good the wonder
daring to say it
the beauty of the mind set free
Posted: September 21, 2015 in Seasons
Tags: fall, seasons
Every few years I take a break like this. My yearnings begin by noticing that the Sun is rising closer and closer to the east each morning. Or I realize that it is setting more squarely to the west. We humans tend to do things in straight lines and squarely you know. Our city streets and blocks are sectioned neatly east to west and north to south. Everything gets lined up neatly in a row. Our homes, our parking lots, our crops, flags, soldiers and grave stones. We like this, I think we need this order. Scatter a dozen marbles or pop cans and it won’t be long before someone will come along and line them up in a neat little row. Everything in order, everything neatly aligned, we must have it, this symmetry.
Is there any wonder why we should take notice when the Earth, our Mother Earth , aligns correctly with the Sun? Of course. Equal darkness and light, the Sun perfectly east and west, shining squarely down our streets and casting perfectly aligned shadows from our buildings, trees, and Washington Monuments, everything is in order. This order from chaos.
Posted: September 21, 2015 in poet, poetry
Tags: poet, poetry
What music, what drum beat
does this man walk to
What music, what drum beat
is in his head when he wins
What strum of the strings
inspires him to try
to take the chance
to win or lose
to stand up to an other’s tune
What’s inside his head
what ringing in the ears
drives this man
whose voice, whose tin notes
inspires him to not pause
but to win the fight.
What is inside this man
not muscle or bone or blood
but what is it he hears
in his head
this man’s mass of mind.
What music, what drum beat
does this man walk to?
Posted: September 16, 2015 in poetry
Nature’s unsung nude
unashamed full frontal exhibition
clothed only in bright colors decided by genetic success
and Lace made of thin delicate pedals
perfumed by nature’s own exotic extracts
Standing erect, silently shouting
Asking to be passionately caressed by the wind
Dependent on the unquestioned love and entrance of the enamored bees.
Posted: September 14, 2015 in poetry
Steering east with the North Star in the corner of my eye
The engine drone and gyro whine keeps me awake.
Kept aloft without missing one of a million sparks
And trusting that the liquid energy will quickly heat and burn.
The red glow of the panel, mostly unnoticed, as my eyes scan forward
Wondering which space I could land on, the light or the dark.
Of lights with no reflections, unseen by me, I continue on
Only the light of the full moon is brightly shining on me.
The cooling night air grows smooth, no tug or push of speed is found here.
I’m alive in this space, hanging free with no sense of height or motion
Only the leak of air reminding me that the ocean I float in is but vapor.
The beacon of green and white that I search for is real and may be seen
But I trust a glowing needle’s left or right of my coarse as true and real.
I cannot pause to ponder this for only by moving forward can I stay here.
I have no one here to share this for I am alone.
And I will not reach my home until the moon is behind me.