Easter’s Egging

~*~

The church bell rang and doors flung wide.

We raised our heads and ran outside.

Sitting’s done, now’s time for fun.

Our Easter egg hunt has now begun.

.

It’s a perfect day with bright sunshine.

Our baskets ready we waited in line.

Till all were scattered on the count of three,

in every direction kids ran free.

.

I ran first to my favorite tree.

I found it’s the favorite of not just me.

So off to the hedge where eggs always found,

none’s left there so to the playground.

.

While the others searched I rode the swing.

When they had gone I heard birds sing.

I glanced to the trees and sounds nearby.

Then off jumped I and into the sky.

.

I landed in sand on two feet and one hand,

then a tumble or two and up I stand.

I turned to the fence where tall trees grew-

to search for a prize of an egg or two.

.

The chirps grew louder with each step I took.

Did they tell me to leave or tell me to look?

I kneeled near bushes and peeked below.

I stuck in my hand as far as would go.

.

Feeling around for a tasty surprise,

I pulled out an egg but smaller in size.

Holding tight it felt warm to the touch.

Then I knew why that bird chirped so much.

.

Gently I put the egg down on the ground,

took a few steps back not making a sound.

A whistle blew, the hunt was now done.

But silently I waited in the midday sun.

.

My basket is broken and clothes dirty and torn.

I knew I’d face my mother’s scorn.

But there’s more to life than clothes un-ripped.

There are some events that can’t be skipped.

.

There’s saving the things that you love.

Then a bird swooped down from above

She tapped the shell lightly with her beak.

A tiny head popped out to take a peek.

.

The mom  nudged her chick back into the bush.

Her frightful chirping turned to a shush

Then another whistle blew, louder than ever.

To stay any longer just wouldn’t be clever.

.

I hurried back, joining up with the rest.

Our search was now over finding the best.

My cousin won second, they had four.

I found just one but I think I won more.

~*~

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http://www.childrens-stories.net/featured-childrens-story/featured-childrens-story.htm

Sensing Love

Her sight is the vision I long to see.
Her voice is my music when she’s away from me.
Her essence I draw when I breathe the air.
The taste of her lips I will not share.
~
My soul is warmed with her every touch.
My balance is kept when she’s my crutch.
I’ve a of place in time and space, bound now as one.
Intertwined, our infinity has now begun.

~*~
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One Counts, Two Adds

I rose today and the sky was blue.
I count my blessings; I know I’ve a few.
The love of another is by my side.
She’ll wake soon to a smile wide.
~
Our health is good and optimism’s high.
Our family’s well, no need to cry.
We’ll share our morning as we always do.
We’ll sip our coffees and maybe two.
~
Our time together is as never before.
Our bond grows stronger awaiting a cure.
We’ve music and art to fill our head.
We’ve cuddling and chatting when in bed.
~
We’ve some windows to see this world green.
We’ve books galore for the time between.
We watch the news and shed our tears.
We’ll hold each other to ease our fears.
~
We’ll laugh a little when it feels right.
We’ll end our day with a kiss goodnight.
The world’s now different outside our door,
though life goes on much as before.
~
The needs of others we’ll not neglect.
We’ll do our part to not infect.
Together as one or two or all,
our blessings shared we’ll rise to the call.

~*~
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Renaissance

I’m going to write a poem so everyone feels good.
I’ll make it bright and cheery as I know I should.
Peculiar times upon us, isolation’s now the norm.
But spring is out in force; soon we’ll all feel warm.
~
Trees are soon to blossom, grass is soon to green.
Flowers will share their colors, bees will tend their queen.
Nature shares her secrets, life does rise again.
Birds are already singing, though we’ve a bigger brain.
~
The future has no guide; we live from day to day.
Optimism is our key to find a better way.
Life will throw some curves and everyone has a pitch.
Some may catch a virus, some will find their niche.
~
Love is in our heart, compassion’s in our soul.
Thoughts fill our heads, they make us feel whole.
The earth will stay in motion; the sun will rise and fall.
Time’s now to show our mettle and share with one and all.

~*~
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Nothing’s for Sure, For Sure

Fire on the horizon, a new day’s underway.
But this day is different, people are home to stay.
The stores are nearly empty, confusion fills the space.
Traffic’s surely lacking when nowhere left to race.
~
There are lines at the gun shop, an armored petri-dish,
Some will shoot their mouths off, some might get their wish.
Sickness fills our minds while numbers fill our eyes.
Panic’s sure to follow dissecting truth from lies.
~
Money is an issue, sure to bring more pain.
Deviants soon will pounce hoping they will gain.
Time now stands still, waiting for relief.
For some that time will come, for others just more grief.
~
Death tolls surely rising, we each just wait to see.
Who will wake tomorrow, who will be set free.
But today the sun has risen, for all another start.
A cure will be forthcoming, but for now we’ve just our heart.
~
The time is now to reassess and take stock of our needs.
The spring is upon us, let’s plant some better seeds.
Growth is sure to come, though different than the past.
The world is now much smaller, let’s make the goodwill last.

~*~
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Believe It Why Not

I have a plan to save mankind.
I’ve just a few things left to find.
First is a place we all can hide.
It’ll need big windows to feel outside.
~
Next is food, but we can’t be too picky,
just nothing too spicy, gooey or sticky.
There’s coffee, for sure with sugar and cream,
then a really big bed for all to dream.
~
We’ll need some music so bring guitars.
Smoking’s optional but no cigars.
There’s no heavy drinking or hard drugs.
No need for violence or unruly thugs.
~
There will be no jail or a court.
So bring no weapons of any sort.
We’ll all need to promise to get along.
It sounds pretty easy, what can go wrong.
~
You’ll never find a happier place.
It’ll fill up fast so reserve your space.
Now one last thing before I take leave;
it’s best not come if you can’t believe.

~*~
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This, That and the Other

Morning, noon or night,
I have my guiding light.
Never to diminish,
she’s always shining bright.
~
Hot, cold and in-between,
temperatures rise when she’s seen.
Her vision’s always warming,
she is my beautiful queen.
~
Fast, slow or standing still,
always there to share goodwill.
Her movements make me quiver,
she’s my daily thrill.
~
Here, there and everywhere,
my troubles all disappear.
The future’s now in sight,
our love is crystal clear.

~*~
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Dynamic Static

The light of day now masks the dark.
Anxiously I await the mornings’ spark.
I watched the sunrise in the sky.
But all’s not bright and I know not why.
~
My pencil stays sharp as my coffee gets cold.
The day is young but the wait’s getting old.
Thoughts are pulsing through my mind.
Though a common thread I cannot find.
~
The world’s in turmoil but I am well.
Sales are soaring but the markets fell.
Patience grows short while lines grow long.
The weak sucked in when winds blow strong.
~
Yet we’ll charge ahead into the unknown,
every interaction affecting our own.
Each breath a conduit to another’s life.
All will share their joy and strife.
~
A new day’s begun, much as before,
we’ve only a guess of what’s in store.
The time is now to show our concern.
The window’s open to see if we learn.

~*~
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Be the Wind

The will of the wind with the air that be,

summons the roar from a silent sea.

When this air too shall roar,

a mighty sea bombards a shore

~

When the wind and sea collude-

all’s consumed all the more.

Can a roaring wind be silenced-

 or will it roar for evermore?

~

A question answered best in rhyme;

The shores are life, the sea is time.

The air is those around us, crying to be free.

And the wind with its will – a roaring poet be.

*

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A Chain of Very Fortunate Events

Homeward bound, a cloudy sky an unfamiliar cobbled street

Silence surrounds the many blank faces guarded by rushing feet

Fading sunlight shaded a forgotten old brick doorway

When a sudden squall and bolt of light brightened that gloomy day

 ~

A twist of fate, strangers meet to escape the pending drench

Glances are avoided, awkward silence used as defense

Then nervous words about weather answered with a smile

Glowing cheeks made me wish for the rain to stay awhile

 ~

We shared stories of our lives, some laughs and some tears

Our hands shared pockets to ward off chill and our many fears

Time flew, the storm had passed yet we noticed none

Matted hair and soggy feet we splashed into the long set sun

 ~

 Awkward silence once again, I truly felt ashamed

Blissful hours past and we never shared our names

Blushing, I asked hers and she responded with mischief in her eyes

“I’d rather not tell you anymore for now, but ask again at sunrise”

 ~

The sun rose on chilly toes long ago, never to forget –

It was a dark cobbled street where once strangers met

 ~

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System Stalled

Like a boat without a dock,
it’s another week of writer’s block.
I drift around aimlessly,
tossed about on a wordless sea.
~
The sun still rises every day.
But all the thought’s gone astray.
The tides do rise and again will fall.
It’s sink or swim because that’s all.
~
Equipped with pen and a pad,
afloat I’ll stay and won’t be sad.
The pages will fill, soaked in sweat.
The ink will dry with no regret.
~
The sands of time will shift once more.
My anchor will drop on a distant shore.
The vistas there will all be new.
Perspectives’ will change, as they do.
~
Horizons are always just ahead.
The breeze will lead to where we’re led.
I can’t complain, this journey’s been good.
So I’ll keep thrashing as we should.

~*~
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Flight Lesson

~

With the first bird tweet before sunrise
An eager young fairy opened her eyes
Impatient she was to explore a new day
To discover new things, have fun and play

Silently venturing from the hollow of her tree
Taking the leap to be fluttering free
She soared through the dark above the treetops
Seeing first the sun shine on morning bunny hops

Reaching new heights she dove for the green
There twisting and turning through branch barely seen
She then came to a stop with forest floor near
Where she sat on a twig spying something unclear

The rays of dawn peaked betwixt shadowed leaf
A lone beam shone on a nest wove beyond belief
Twas silken hung with shimmers and wiggles
Whence out pops a butterfly to bright eyes and giggles

The pair swiftly flew off, with each a new friend
A flight of fancy they hoped without end
Their forest was waking from the dark of night
Ferns were unfurling to welcome the light

Morning blossoms blooming’s a colorful treat
Dew drop reflections fragrantly sweet
The bumble bee’s buzz in search they roam
Lady bugs lingering wished to be home

Crickets stopped chirping, they’re done for the day
The squirrels and chipmunks have come out to play
Frolicking freely time quickly passed by
Their world growing smaller the higher they fly

Sensing danger circling above
The butterfly thought a game the fairy would love
For his instinct foretold of a life to be short
All else he knew the fairy had taught

He said “wait down below, I’ll hide and you seek”
“But count to a thousand before you peek.”
The adventurous fairy dove quick for the wood
The brave butterfly flew higher than was good

Counting’s completed, now’s time to discover
She opened her eyes while humming birds hover
She asked of them if a butterfly was seen
One with big wings of red, yellow and green

The little birds knew not of his hiding place
Sadness now shaded the young fairy’s face
She searched high and low, both left and right
Her sight’s now shrinking in falling sunlight

Shadows grow longer with the moons turn to rise
A blanket of stars soon covered sleepy eyes
The quiet night passing, she dreamt of her tree
And the nightmare had unprepared to be free

Awakening again to a song she knows well
Birds summon the sun as the pale moon fell
The fairy sat patient on a stump by a stream
Butterfly! Oh butterfly she did loudly scream

The butterfly didn’t hear her mournful cry
Though the echo carried through valley and sky
Her parents did hear their lost child’s voice
Soon by her side they all did rejoice

The young fairy’s joy soon returned to tears
She spoke of the butterfly and of her fears
Her parents assured her he lost his way
But would surely return somehow, someday

The family swiftly flew back to their cozy home
A place shared with others in a honey comb
The fairy now waves to the butterflies, they in return
For keeping friends close is what she did learn

~*~

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Sleepy Town

Dusk shrouds foggy walks
Whispers heard when no one talks
The old town hall shines felicity
Its library shares the pageantry

Main Street bristles with conspicuous zeal
Spirits roam unseen when unreal
Tales abound of young maidens kissed
Faces unknown for souls unmissed

Yarns be spun of their tiny cove
Time surrounds, the mind does rove
Behind every door lie stories untold
Life in a village three hundred years old

High on the hill sits a Queen Anne alone
She’s peaks of copper and footing of stone
Her windows boarded to hide the view
Abandoned by the town, seen by few

The home once a school for wayward boys
Most had no families, none knew of toys
A cagey couple was completely in charge
Both small in stature yet looming large

The mistress taught letters with pointer or switch
The master kept numbers making them rich
Gruel’s fed to the students, the master’s meat
The boys froze; the pair warmed by their heat

Ablaze was the furnace ahead of each storm
The lads safely locked in their cold attic dorm.
Their sniffles and sneezes all kept at bay
The masters swept all the sickness away

Each year had runaways, never to be found
Searches end at the edge of school ground
Then came a young man sheltered in error
He promptly escaped and reported the terror

Inquires made, investigations were had
The masters left freely, the mayor glad
The school was closed with little fanfare
The boys sent away with little a care

Rumors lost from days long past
Horrors are hidden all too fast
No more’s said of the young boys plight
And another sun sets on a sleepy town’s night

~*~

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A Village Uncommon

~*~

Birds are first to welcome the day.

Second’s the stable boy, warm in his hay,

next the rooster with a cockle-doodle–do.

The sun then knows it’s time to shine through.

.

The day’s now begun on this little village farm,

sounds are awakened, no need for alarm.

Chores are done first before breakfast’s had.

The boy gets scraps for which he’s glad.

.

He then fetches water to fill troughs high,

looking down he reflects on the sky.

The birds passing by all wave hello.

The boy too would like somewhere to go.

.

His only companions where pigs in the barn,

a colt in the stall and a blanket of yarn.

The pigs are noisy but warm at night.

The colt’s always worried something’s not right.

.

The boy and the colt are both small for their age.

The colt’s awkward stance was more prone for a stage.

The boy’s body covered in hair but none on his head.

His face more pale than a ghost long dead.

.

He was missing teeth, what’s left are brown.

When out to run errands he’d limp back from town.

He was bullied by piers, pitied by the rest,

that’s why the barn is where he liked best.

.

The barn’s on a farm the boy’s aunt owned.

The pigs are theirs but the rest boarded or loaned.

The crops all prospered by the boy’s hard work,

though all profits were spent on his cousin the jerk.

.

The jerk had a sister the boy thought faire,

as did  all the mirrors where she did stare.

The boy’s aunt was mean and her husband’s a brute.

They all wore frowns but the dog was cute.

.

On the boy’s return to the barn for the night,

he was much surprised by a most curious sight.

Pigs were in a circle the colt standing tall.

The hens in the middle said nothing at all.

.

The lonely stable boy was their only concern.

So a plan was hatched for the love he earned.

The colt too had thoughts in his growing mind.

There’s something, somewhere he needs to find.

.

Then suddenly a change right before their eyes.

Within the hour the colt doubled in size.

The bumps on his shoulders grew larger too

As did his hooves, now too big for their shoe.

.

The discussion’s now over and all agreed.

The boy and the colt should both be freed.

Some details whispered and the time was set,

for a barnyard adventure to never forget.

.

The boy donned his blanket like superman’s cape,

then mounted the colt for their great escape.

First are hugs all around before they depart.

Then the barn doors cracked for the plan to start.

.

The hens muffled the rooster so time was bought.

The sheep flocked to the door as they were taught.

The ducks then quacked to cause a commotion.

And the brute awakened without a clue or a notion.

.

Pigs started oinking and the cows crashed the gate.

The little dog barked but it was too late.

The boy and colt ran fast past the posts,

waving goodbye to their ungracious hosts.

.

A tear was shed for the friends left behind.

But his blanket’s aroma would always remind.

The pair dashed down the lane by the hedge-row.

Then flew over the hills where the uncommon go.

.

In search of a world thought fantasy.

A place imagined by you and me.

A place where all’s different and the same,

where none is wrong or to blame.

.

This place called fantasy’s not make-believe.

It’s a place that’s real we feel and perceive.

As the pair now see how much they’ve grown.

They come into view of a sight unknown.

.

Not commonly known this uncommon sight,

there welcomed warmly in the setting sunlight.

The Uncommons filled their common and a party had.

There all are different and all are glad.

.

A one-legged sprinter hopped by to say hi,

as did the unicorn and an eagle with one eye.

A lady strolled over who walked on her hands.

Her arms so long they dragged in the sands.

.

Her daughter followed and sparks then flew.

The boy didn’t know that there could be two.

His Pegasus introduced with shakes all around.

Their hands all touching made a warm clapping sound.

.

Hugs soon followed and a tasty dinner had.

The boy almost forgot he was ever sad.

He cuddled a tiny kitten that roars really loud.

And played with two-legged puppies that only bowed.

.

There are two-headed snakes and a toothless beaver,

also the tail-less mouse from his aunt’s cleaver.

Here everyone’s loved and their love they share,

who wouldn’t love a giant dancing bear.

.

These commons are full of Uncommons galore.

Though anyone’s welcome, there’s room for more.

The boy’s party ran late and he rose with the sun.

Then all’s back to normal in a village uncommon.

~*~

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Forever Brine

Gaslights flicker, but one in three

These harsh fall winds batter thee

Soon the rains will pour and pelt

Yet with heavy heart nothing’s felt

~

Broken brick teeters beneath shoe-less feet

The stench of death fills the street

An island paradise – mine no more

Alas in this city to find a door

~

Thirty years lost at sea

‘Till found rescued, returned free

In search of a life I wish to find

Of futures not had and left behind

~

Now homeward bound to do what’s right

And share my tale of a dreadful night

With freezing sleet and gale, our sails torn

Splintered masts await the morn

~

Screams of mates haunting still

Silence came with the sunsets’ chill

I awoke to a native angel, urged to make a wife

Years of guilty pleasure pass of fertile island life

~

In a search never-ending of a foggy memory

Back to a decrepit city, forever lost to me

A vision of a woman I had no time to know

And a father-less child I never saw grow

~

Now I must roam this morbid place

In the shadows I hide this unknown face

With grizzled hide and toothless grin

Tis I this rotted hull of unforgivable sin

~

First I betrayed a young bride with family

I’ve betrayed my many brothers to a stormy sea

Betrayed my island flowers with my bastard seed

And their many blooms not knowing of their creed

~

In tangled webs of filthy alleys, doors locked tight

Shuttering out the dangers awakened in the night

Seeking boarded diamond pane, broken lintel I recall

My tiny door beckons just down the hall

~

Now steps ahead my future lies, one without a past

Decisions’ pondered long, yet always chosen fast

With a knock a ghost returns to those long at rest

Me thinks a splintered briny deck for all will be best

~*~

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Magic Carpet

~

Full moon’s high in my window pane,

a sleepless night yet again.

I think of what that old moon’s seen,

and the billions of days in-between.

.

Billions of stories it could share.

But few like grandma’s can compare.

Her life began long, long ago.

Raised in places few ever know.

.

In forests, jungles and never-ending plains,

there were exotic cities and quiet country lanes.

Naturalist nurtured traversing the globe,

her parents explorers and professors in robes.

.

She too attended their university,

majoring, of course, in anthropology.

She graduated at the very top of her class.

Then returning to a high mountain pass.

.

A place where dear friends made, one nevermore,

new will be made though not as before.

For the sisterly love they both did share,

her dowry passed from generations with care.

.

Their rug was presented for the mutual esteem,

more cherished than a simple weaving would  seem.

With sheep twists dyed and hands knotting all day,

life’s artful history’s made to give, barter or pray.

.

That winter spent mourning by choice and terrain.

Gram then ventured east with the new spring rain.

Her path soon ended on a long Pacific beach,

her life of the past now far out of reach.

.

She then called upon as never before.

She volunteered proudly as a nurse in the war.

Through years of blood, pain and tears she served,

refusing all the medals and honors deserved.

.

Though her true love was found slumped on a cot,

they soon returned home, where time was forgot.

Gramps got better and a new family sown.

their many shared scars were never to be shown.

.

Her old rug was placed by hearth and chest,

each full of stories though not all are best.

It’s a place we’d sit to hear grandma recall,

sometimes a place to do nothing at all.

.

So I tip-toed downstairs since sleep no option,

I’ll rest on that rug where dreams are begun.

It’s where secrets are shared and magic seen,

then a place for relaxing time in-between.

.

Once sewn as a bag keeping safe, precious things.

It’s been many a blanket with a picnic to bring.

It’s been a shawl in the cold and hood in the rain –

and a comfy pillow on the overnight train.

.

Adventures had in time that’s flown,

together worn from long years grown.

This rug’s grandma’s confidant and oldest friend,

soaring together their wove lives transcend.

.

Though colors now faded, ends torn and frayed,

beauty more timeless cannot be remade.

And when the winds do bellow just right,

we’re drawn up the flue and into the night.

.

Holding fast and climbing high,

we touched the stars in our moonlit sky.

We’d see twinkling lights in our town below,

then off to the hills where roads don’t go.

.

Over the wood, back to the place we all live,

where the door’s always open and love’s to give.

There blissful slumbers had snug as a bug,

whilst wrapped with a hug in grandmas old rug.

.

~*~

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The Return

Outside my window perched in a tree
Tis a winged demon that caws at me
At me it caws and caws all day
Till darkness consumes then caws go away

Tis then a candle lit, awaiting peace
Creative spark await release
The hourly chime hourly chides
This spark within creatively hides

Searching I pace in this tiny room
From shadow to shadow returning to gloom
Going in circles around in a square
Till wearily I slump back into my chair

Through random lacy limbs I spy the moon
With gentle breezes the patterns I swoon
Patterns swooning dance on dingy walls
The net surrounds and the demon calls

Consciousness concedes, silence relieves
In the dark the dark the mind believes
Rest and wait or rise and scream
Choices few at the edge of a dream

Wax drippings lapping pages bled
Of serpentine spine and heavy head
Blackness cloaks the demons night
Their quills aplenty shade the light

Demon, oh demon please let me be
Yet still they tap, tapping for me
Tap tap tapping on my foggy pane
Tap, tap tapping with no refrain

Without refrain demons tap in kind
Tapping demons tap, tapping my mind
Is this tapping, tapping to remind?
Or is it tapping to seek and find?

Oh demon cloaked with hidden face
To take from you is my disgrace
Your gifts adored left on my sill
Yet to rest on your back I am still

To be only still is reverse
Dive or fall, a lover’s curse
To soar or sink is to immerse
The spirit wishes to guide the verse

This spirit and I of common goal
Each to rise from the hole
One to fly, one to scratch and claw
Each may fall, one to caw, caw, caw

Our bond’s made to find a link
If to trade my soul I wish to think
I wish to think another’s ink
Of golden quills and wine to drink

In gilded glass I wish to wink
Then step away until I shrink
Till all is gone with a blink
But for the ink, I wish to think

I think I think, I think I see
I think I see light shines on me
Sight and sound now distortion free
The path’s clear toward tranquility

If to be a final rest, now’s to be the time
Drifting in an open mind is to be sublime
Or if to rise and most joyfully find
I’ve awakened as a different kind

To be warm of heart and cool of mind
Forward moving and never behind
Of filigree hands to align and chime
Tis then the taps return, tapping in time

Taps on the window from arms of the past
To embrace their grip the future’s cast
When cracks appear in my shield of glazing
The demon swoops for the dawns hazing

With inky beak and beating wings
Caw, caw, caw the demon sings
They dance upon the empty pages
Quills ablaze their fire rages

Then morning breaks the lidded seal
Illuminating all thought real
Am I to be taker or to consume?
Or wake to sunlight returning to gloom

Betwixt the shadows exposed by the light
Tis demons craft conjured last night
With nary a blotch nor stroke askew
Flawless leaf scribed by I know not who

I dare not share these words unknown
Through my window they have flown
The prize of demons cawing in a tree
Thus return I must this gift given me

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In the Shadow of Windmill Cottage

Behold this welcome image,
where a hill rises from a bay.
There a tiny sheltered village lay,
in the shadow of Windmill Cottage.
Pleasant breeze’s most every day.

Sails from afar spill their goodwill.
From their nets sea treasures abound.
Farms thrive above on fertile ground.
Good fortune trickles down the hill.
Sea birds fill the air with sound.

Ancient timbers shade from lofty stage.
Labored grain grows upward at the season’s rate.
Winds howl, warmth’s aglow on the hill-top grate.
Flour flows freely down from Windmill Cottage.
Where nature’s breath spins the wheel of a poets estate.

He attends happily to familiar chores.
Quarterly ledgers bulge beneath waistcoat fair,
a quarterly journey to the bankers’ lair.
His shadow alone opens Main Street doors.
Harvest moon will guide homeward the fortunate heir.

Dusk creeps up as day slips by.
Must avoid the many scrupulous gaze,
modest and ordered with nothing ablaze.
In the shadows inhibitions die.
A visit with strangers, heads all a daze.

Journeys end in darkness where hill meets bay.
Tufted coaches dash the posh up to their inns.
Others huddle by fire pits drinking homemade gins.
The trades of the night swap those of day.
Church bells echo, atoning for their sins.

He’s just another hazy face on the wooden shores.
Where the day’s death lingers and ships bells ring.
Taverns fill, ale flows and drunken sailors sing.
Fiddles play and jigs are had on the dirty floors.
Habitual killers all, Oh what joy they bring.

Few will stay, most homeward bound.
Some laugh loudly while others cry.
Some will fight, some will die.
In search of peace to be found,
in the deep or endless sky.

Faceless comfort fills empty space.
Men with silver are sick for a day.
Boys with gold suffer years away.
Moonlit romance lingers on perfumed lace.
Then life’s anew beyond the tiny bay.

Sharing much common thread,
In this moment they’re brothers all.
Whale lamps flicker on sooty wall,
making friends while breaking bread.
All await the Bosun’s call.

In a corner where shadows overlap,
the poet searches for his light.
Here the day’s brew flows all night.
Safe for now from his hilltop trap,
layers of darkness, out of sight.

Behold this most unwelcome image.
The seat no more where the poet presides,
now in his shadow a filthy little demon hides.
Return not quenched to Windmill Cottage –
And wait again for the new moon tides?

Lonely candle spews depth on a lonely face.
Unseen pests sing their unwanted song,
the scent of time ticking long.
His travels must be many, all left a trace.
In the darkness our senses are strong.

His hat brim low to hide the shame.
The poet stutters with utter surprise.
The traveler snickers, doesn’t rise.
With sideways glance he asks the poet’s name.
Honestly answered by the fear in his eyes.

When after long hesitation a hasty reply –
“A traveler like you” was all that he said.
But after some ale the silence was dead.
Yard by yard many distant words fly.
Palettes grow with faces shaded red.

Cider was next and followed by rum.
The traveler’s tales – all told in prose.
The wetter the lips the faster it flows.
He’s hated by most, loved by some.
That’s how a traveler’s life often goes.

The poet proud – a rather long fellow.
The traveler meek – a short poet by name.
So many ports traveled they all looked the same.
His heart pumped blue, the poet gay and mellow.
Opposite sides of a coin, no one is to blame.

“With little time to hone a craft –
with a draft from an open door.
To close then return no-more.
To open then evermore – the draft.
Spirits gone, gone the craft – nevermore.”

“What dribble do you speak my friend?”
The poet inquired in disgusted tone.
“The dribble I think when thirsty and alone.”
The traveler quipped with message to send.
“I’ll tell you another, that’s my own.”

Silent words are never heard –
The voiceless poet stuttered.
Repeated babble muttered.
His rhymes always sputtered.
More mindless words would be absurd.

The air he breathed was glutted.
His helm so poorly ruddered,
his shirts all heavily buttered.
From his many toasts self-uttered.
His mind is so free and uncluttered.

His weaknesses many but unobserved.
Blinded to the Reaper’s shadow – deserved.
Soon the voiceless poet will be unheard.
Then blissful quiet on his paths wandered.
His silence welcome  – forever heard.

Drunken rabble roared with delight.
The poet withered belittled.
The traveler’s attention fizzled.
When laudanum’s sipped out of sight.
The poet escaped most grizzled.

Out of the dark into the night –
bellowing air; cold, wet and starless.
His poisoned lips know no finesse.
His state of mind out of time – not right.
The poet’s mind wanders aimless.

While the traveler tucked snugly in his bunk,
with help from many new joyous fan.
All loved the howls of this traveled wild-man.
His tales make perfect sense – drunk.
The favorite carried and a silent poet ran.

His boot heels clack on cobble slick.
The poet stumbles upward with achy head.
While his stallion slumbers atop golden bed.
If only to have aid from his gilt throat-ed stick.
This shadowy path he may be found dead.

The wind that is my fortune is slowly killing me.
This hill of heritage too high for me to climb,
with forceful push from the hands of time.
Drawing me back to a frigid sea –
my misery oh-so great – it is oh-so sublime.

Head tucked low, bottom up always slow.
Darkness wanes to purples then red.
Day is born, horrors of the night soon dead.
Hands and knees bloodied and bruised – falls of woe.
Alas the bodies of servants to guide to downy bed.

Winter behind, graven plans regress,
fevered sleep past, shadows of death dawdle.
Summer awaits, the poet’s lessons dwindle.
His magnum opus went off to press.
Journey’s soon to Main Street for praise to guzzle.

Surveying high atop his magnificent mount,
the poet exclaimed “behold this welcome image”
Deceived by the bustle – not he the homage.
But a tome by a worldly traveler, no doubt –
“In the Shadow of Windmill Cottage”

The End

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