Real Imagined


Ships a pair moors by night.
Each’s a vision of the others light.
Tides are changing for me and you.
To time’s beyond when waves are few.

We each of passion, both pursuing free.
Findings shared, shared passionately.
An end to this poem, I have none or care.
For a future imagined is not really there.




Morning Triku #153 ~ Solstice Surmises

Go Time

The longest day’s here.
The sun’s warm and the night short.
Cold hearts have no place.


A Bushel of Pecks

Chemistry is the
solution to inertness
and explosiveness.


Fanatical & Finesse

Zealotry only
require zealots but not zeal


Foreign Concepts

Touched by humility with time to wait and see.
Humorously dashed to experiment in honesty.
Words can be precise but only when alone.
Much like life itself, it’s dark and damp beneath the stone.

A curious squirrel climbs a lilac to explore my porch.
We both wonder why I’m here.
The squirrel retreated though not defeated.
It is they who won, I remain seated.

Less I digress, more to be sure.
Life changes on a dime, I left to write with only rhyme.
Chaka baby beckons beyond, nostalgic breath I’m fond.
Dancing in an imaginary chair, day’s gray, air just fair.

Nicotine lingers, perhaps to know this first.
Sinking, swimming and drowning and yet still the thirst.
Thoughts flood of minutes, days, weeks and years.
Words flow when controlled by the moon and a sea of tears.

Laughter waves at depths unfathomable.
And the ring of life is forever shareable.
Journeys don’t end when the seeing changes.
Time begins anew when life engages.

My mind is weary; it’s a pile of abstract fluff with no thoughts to puff.
But I’ll write again tomorrow, cos enough is never enough.


Second Hand Slap

All first’s happen one time.
Seconds echo a chosen chime.
Good or bad, meant or meant not to be,
tick we must pain’s always free.

Mistakes made and signal’s crossed.
Paths fork and feelings tossed.
Years pass and pressure mounts.
Seconds loom and the hand counts.

Clocked anew, wound with care.
Wrapping remains, none’s to share.
Tower’s built and time slips away.
A distant hand wins the day.

Habitual motions come around.
The passersby haunt and hound.
Dictated emotions can’t run away.
Spindled and bound forever and a day.

Controlled by movement, most unseen.
Shattered glass cuts unclean.
Time’s told to all who listens.
Killing seconds the first hand glistens.


 Striking Similarities

Cycling around dimensions, three.
Horizons bend to curve all we see.
Energy’s absorbed when given free.

Settled comforts to some fond.
Or near to crest on rippling pond.
Projecting forward, life’s beyond.

OR’s’ of age when all is time,
passion drives a life sublime,
treading secure or await the chime.

Choose chosen when choices few.
Three’s what’s given, the rest up to you.


Urban Renewal

A northern shade a northern mill
Prospering times growing still
Bell towers boarded, time to kill
Cracks abound, pigeon’s shrill

Divisions divide buds as before
Docks and bays and wavy floor
Doors or windows less not more
Sky’s above all’s for sure

Light shines down space to fill
Earth’s breaking at its will
Rain quenches drenching poor
Life returns to green and cure



An open mind, an open door
Footsteps patter on the floor
Yet when I sit there is no more
Do more await? I unsure

To stand and be risen unknowns arise
Ceilings reachable below endless skies
Truth’s unheard written of lies
Right and wrong said before our eyes

Walls surround; Air, earth and skin
Fences seen higher trapped within
Fall and fail or leap and win?
Gates close when new sides begin


Positive Nay

As I sit, nay to write.
Sun soon sets, swallowed by night.
Fading moon’s arc, stars shine bright.
Yet it’s now, nay to write.

As I sit, only time ahead.
Thoughts fixed of the living and dead.
Life moves on, or so it’s said.
Yet it’s now, only time ahead.

As I sit, nay to sleep.
Death surrounds, sow or reap.
Questions abound, lay or leap.
Yet it’s now, nay to sleep.