A rocky road young love traveled,
she hit the brakes and life unraveled.
The music stopped and she left with my car.
The road now waits for me and my guitar.
Playing corner gigs for nickels and dimes,
ain’t got much voice but got good rhymes.
For every heart break there’s a song.
Then another and it don’t take long.
The sun’s sinking low and hungers on high,
when the loveliest of ladies caught my eye.
With twenty bucks or so in change,
necessity was now in range.
The weight of my wealth couldn’t slow me down.
I chased that lady half way cross town.
We shared a laugh and a quick bite.
I asked if I could crash for the night.
Her Benz was parked just around the block.
We both jumped in and started to rock.
Till the music stopped and she left with her car.
The road now waits for me and my guitar.
Circumstances change and change again.
So I’m not really sure how this poem’s to end.
What is real is unknown till done,
but time imagined has already begun.
The stars shine bright until the dawn.
The future awaits and then it’s gone.
Thoughts and visions obscure the truth;
a lack of years isn’t youth.
Recollections and experience color our days.
Points of view shade our ways.
Life’s the sonnet never ending,
verses abound, conclusions ever-pending.
If to see music and feel hues,
you’re gonna pay your f’n dues.
Reality’s then plain to see,
for the muse love’s too easy.
A note received punctuation’s unknown,
another twist with a faceless tone.
But all the words used then rearranged again.
And this too will be rewritten because there is no end.
As the time grows near,
anticipation grows to fear.
First meetings are always hard,
but at least a page for the bard.
Black or white or shades of plaid,
good or bad an experience had.
A pleasant day and a pleasant lunch,
tomorrow’s unknown, but a hunch.
Sparks yet to fly,
there’s no twinkle in the eye,
a goodbye hug with space between,
love at first sight not felt or seen.
A future call will say it all,
will there be a summer or a fall.
Days ahead, there’s a bunch,
more pleasant times and yet another lunch.
This is just a story so please bear in mind, I’m barely a writer so please be kind. I’m trying not to write of beer, bears or being bare, though a nude, drunken bear a fun story to share. ~ Sometimes inspiration flows. Other times it’s I don’t knows. Some days the sun shines bright. Others, it’s forever night. ~ Now back to bears, just a quick sidebar. It won’t take long, I won’t go far. Once upon a time there were surely more than three. And some lived in houses like you and me? ~ The thought of that requires consideration, but better still observation. So with the flow starting to show, it’s off to the forest I go. ~ Hours pass and sleep consumes. The night unseen and sunshine resumes. A hearty breakfast with tea and honey, yesterday’s dread now seems funny. ~ Oh! I have to stop; I’ve run out of time. I found their beer and I’m full of rhyme. But now imagining fear because near are the bear. I’ll find my clothes later, I don’t care.
A little note wishing all a happy spring,
it’s time for rebirth and the joy it brings.
Days grow warmer with sunshine long.
Mornings greeted with nature’s song.
Birds and bees awe with their aerial dance.
Colors blossom and the scents of flora enhance.
A new world beckons and eyes gleam.
Hearts thaw and minds again dream.
With a snowy blanket to ward of the chill,
deep in the forest a den lay still.
Then spring arrives, eyes soon gaze,
all that’s missed in the winter’s haze.
The most daring, of course, popped out first,
the second unsure but for their thirst.
While the last clung to their hungry mom,
till out she burst, not seeking calm.
In the new light the young family squinted.
Then in a blink the awed group splintered.
Mama was busy with breakfast in her sights.
The cubs were curious of nature’s delights.
Full of fear the timid cub sat alone.
With teary eyes closed all was unknown.
The adventurous pair now frolicked out of view.
Mama roared and they all knew what to do.
Back at the den the family again met.
Mama spoke firmly and new rules set.
Wherever she goes the cubs will too.
And what she says is what they’ll do.
Each a reason to not like what was said.
Each had ideas in their very own head.
Sticking together down the path they forged,
when new grass found for all to gorge.
A stream nearby was sure to taste nice,
it’s wintry fresh but cold as ice.
The foolish pair dove in and quickly back out.
The timid one laughed and mama was in doubt.
For the cubs it was their second spring.
But mama feared they hadn’t learned a thing.
Their season’s short with much to do.
Will her cubs be ready, she hadn’t a clue.
Back safe in their den all were glad,
bellies were full and fun was had.
The next day started much the same.
For two of the cubs it all seemed a game.
Grabbing for a beehive and to their surprise,
this prickled pair soon felt it unwise.
Fallen from the tree to roll down the hill,
a vacant hive was about to thrill.
While the humbled duo ran off in fright.
The shy little cub had lunch in sight.
With hardly a care they lunged for the treat.
Head first they met, the greeting sweet.
Mama returned hearing her cubs horrid wail.
But seeing her sticky one she knew the tale.
With a quick loving lick down the path she rushed.
At least for now one cub was hushed
Back at the stream the others found unharmed.
Mama’s relieved though still alarmed.
Did the cubs recall or was it a whim;
a lesson learned that bees can’t swim.
The bears then flew back, hasty to arrive.
There they all dove into that tasty hive.
The cubs soon napped and mama felt less fear.
And this is barely a story, unless you’re a bear.
Assuming today’s to be the last, yesterdays are only the past. Tomorrow’s come to fast. ~ Accepting every day’s the same, nights pass, the day’s to blame. Tomorrows come as yesterday came. ~ Acknowledging all’s new, yet lacking yesterday’s clue Tomorrow’s risen oft black and blue. ~ Anticipating each day’s the first, yesterday’s filled quenching thirsts. Tomorrows pass endlessly submersed. ~ Assuring each day’s bright, yesterday’s end with good night. Tomorrow simply see the light.
Please excuse me for this poems’ short length.
It seems finding things is not my strength.
I had started a poem and it was great.
But I lost it and it’s getting really late.
But I know the importance of writing every day,
especially when there’s nothing to say.
How will you know anything if you don’t try?
Nothing’s ever answered without asking why.
I tried to find my poem but failed miserably.
But it’ll turn up, just you wait and see.
It may not be great when done and that’s O.K.
I’ll just try again, each and every day.
Reality is different for us all. Some will rise while others fall. Though our time and space is the same, some whither, for others fame. ~ Our state of mind has its say, whether black, white or shades of gray. The blues surround in the color of sky. Is it bright asking why? ~ Optimism and pessimism play a role, highs and lows take their toll. Counting blessings don’t always add up. Half’s irrelevant with a hole in our cup. ~ Reflection and introspection yield clues. But not all answers bring good news. Happiness being just a smile away, I’ll seek yet again another day.
There once was a man from Rhode Island.
Who liked wiggling his toes in the sand.
Though it just a few times a year,
cos he held his toes quite dear.
And freezing them off he couldn’t stand.
With miles of beach,
they’re only seasonally in reach.
But walks when not freezing,
they’re still always pleasing.
And you don’t burn the peach.
Genes you see have crossed the sea,
his mom as Irish as she can be.
They being that pale as well.
Their summers a living hell.
I guess even good luck’s not free.
Today’s poem’s not a poem at all. Seems the flow has hit the wall. The change in season’s what I suspect. A change in me I don’t detect. ~ The blues behind, green’s on its way, what happens next I can’t say. Sometime a stick of wood is just that. Or it can start a fire or built a habitat. ~ And with each box we’ve many strikes. Some were used when we were tykes. The rest we save for those rainy days, when again they’ll guide our ways. ~ Jumbled metaphors run through my mind. A start or end I can not find. Perhaps now stopping is best. It’s getting late, I need some rest.
The sun’s rising on a happy note. Music’s low, eyes open to what she wrote. Spirit’s high and excitement’s felt. Colorful words shared and dwelt. ~ The sky’s brightening to pastel hues. Old snow absorbs winter’s blues. Each day wanes its frosty reflection. Moments are waiting of pure perfection. ~ Warming’s new, thawing on its way. Lives freshly created every day. Images stage what’s perceived. Minds arrange what’s deceived. ~ Visions form words, words become visions. Answer’s clear but for decisions. As is the suns rise and fall, without doubt. Our projection, this day’s about.
There once was a once upon a time.
Actually there’s many and some do rhyme.
So here it goes another like the rest.
It might not be the worst but won’t be the best.
Once upon a time there was;
bees in a garden sharing a buzz.
They flutter high and they flutter low,
they flit where they need to go.
They all know each other, each by name.
But humans think they’re all the same.
Unwittingly perhaps, speciesists are we,
but they don’t need us as we need the bee.
They grow our food and sweeten our tea,
an absolute necessity, don’t you agree?
So next time you see one, share their buzz.
Cos without them our once will be was.
I feel a storm a brewin’
And thoughts, they are a stewin’
Seems procrastination ain’t so great
Time it seems just won’t wait
Youthful dreamin’ put on hold
Earnin’s first, I’ve been told
While the future does still beckon
It’s path though I’ve yet to reckon
But my guitar needs a playin’
And my hips need a swayin’
My pencil needs more dancin’
And of course there’s more romancin’
So much to do, so little time left to waste
Ponderin’s ahead, no need for haste
I am after all a master procrastinator
So I’ll get old, but just a little bit later
Suspended in the depths of gloom and despair,
there death is longed and life’s feared.
Where darkness consumes all’s lost,
with one breath the line crossed.
But that’s not today and that’s good.
The sun’s shining as it should.
The air chilled but warming’s near.
Spring’s now longed, none’s to fear.
Thanks to all my many a friend.
My heart and mind’s on the mend.
The road behind bumpy and long,
twists and turns, some wrong.
Paths ahead are better viewed;
time’s taught life’s skewed.
All that’s known is there’s usually doubt.
But the ups and downs average out.
Like suns and moons we all rise and set.
And with changing seasons we freeze or sweat.
Grounding’s found in what’s always there,
the love of friends with time we share.
Though I hope not permanent,
I’ve chosen to experiment.
A change in course is needed,
or soon to be defeated.
Continued escape or actual rest,
sleep will be my ultimate test.
Nights a daze and days are night.
Wake must I to dream what’s right.
Torn by a future unknown,
and times gone now to own,
reflections of the past have all been seen.
Death looms, the now in between.
Better days will come with the bad.
Some day’s happy, others sad.
Success or failure is for us to see.
Probing’s always costly but results free.
Through willow filtered sunshine, I feel your reflections and you mine. With introversion my biggest fear, with hidden face my love I declare. ~ In glistening pools of gentle light, my heart waves to the mind’s fright. If lives written our columns divide, moments unmirrored to cast aside. ~ Hands ever closer the time does drift, the moon creates our daily shift. In the dark our eyes meet, together enlightened tomorrows we’ll greet.
There once an old dude, who was quite crude, the town folk thought him rude. ~ After many a year in love he fell, his flame however said “go to hell”. His desires she’d never quell. ~ A stormy winter slowly passed by. Accustomed to rejection, the dude wasn’t shy. And persistent he was to always ask why. ~ The spring finally came, his flame stayed the same, himself the dude thought to blame. ~ The summer surely hot, the dude surely not, his cool long since shot. ~ Autumn’s bluster in the air, his flame did flicker, he did flare. The time had tempered each with care. ~ With a Christmas snow soon to arrive, fire and ice made water to dive. His flame’s heart thawed and their love did thrive.