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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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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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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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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