Could Have Been

‘Twas the dawn of the new,
where a seaside village grew.
Novice and native confused.
From each the other felt used.

Forests deep or oceans wide,
betwixt’s unknown, where demons hide.
Hovels cluster to brave surrounds.
Perils beckon with all new sounds.

Ships multiply within the decade.
Promises broken to many made.
Seeds planted and families grown,
with the first of the babes now on their own.

One such named Sam while out to fetch wood,
kept up with his mom, best he could.
Yet he dallied about and lost his way,
the first of many an enlightening day.

Surrounded by darkness, Sam was afraid,
he awaited death from his errors made.
The silence broken by crackling leaf,
eaten or captured will soon end his grief.

There in the moonlight to Sam’s surprise,
a scared young squaw was before his eyes.
Sam huddled close with his new friend Fawn.
They shared the warmth till the new day’s dawn.

Their words spoken with only a glance,
parting as friends made by chance.
Fawn pointed toward Sam’s path home.
He turned to thank her, yet she did roam.

Sam soon safe, years soon pass.
Herds dwindle, slaughtered in mass.
Danger dies when dangers burn,
for dreams of freedom we all yearn.

With hardy to fore, lessor the back,
prey’s all around for the attack.
Muskets in hand they hunt the beast.
The fallen the joy of this autumnal feast.

Alone in the wood, sun’s fading fast,
Sam’s in a daze lost in the past.
He sat and pondered without any fear,
recalling Fawn, his long lost dear.

Thanks to her, Sam’s here today,
assisting her ruin to make his way.
The silence broken by crackling leaf,
there stood his Fawn, ending his grief.

Sam rose in the moonlight reflecting her eyes.
Her pain carved deep by years of cries.
The pair ventured north, far as they could.
Their legend ends there and all was good.

~*~

Sck113015

Cold Fuzz

It’s been a month or maybe more,
it could be less but I’m not sure.
Perspective’s fuzzy, mind’s a blank,
creativity’s done and mood sank.
~
At least today I wrote a thing,
I hoped that some joy it’d bring.
I wasn’t wrong though it’s not great,
reflecting on these times of late.
~
Perhaps tomorrow will improve;
I’ll jump out of bed in the groove.
I’ll run downstairs to greet the sun,
damn this chill, let’s awake the fun.

~*~
SCK112320

Posthumous Futures

~

To all the writers never known
To the few from which we’ve grown
From their words the future’s sown
Rearranged to call our own

~

To all of those that do it now
From palette pure to graven brow
Investing all we dare allow
Divesting that we can’t avow

~

Time records in poem and prose
Imagined journeys no one knows
From euphoric highs to deadly lows
The tide of emotion forever flows

~

Looking back at history
Or hypothesizing infinity
Sensations felt we can’t see
Ink bled sets us free

~

Where to start, that depends
Our time alone shared with friends
Yet all stories must have ends
Well submerged is where life blends

~

Write the dark to see the light
Time always wins the fight
And when you lay awake tonight
Rest assured our future’s bright

~*~

Sck112315

Shunned for life

Instantaneous conception

Darkened suspension

Quintessential isolation

Thrusted illumination

Blissful termination

Trusted dedication

Explored dimension

Forced memorization

Infinite confusion

Rising tension

Tense deliberation

Lofty ambition

Numbing frustration

Occasional jubilation

Generational creation

Much tribulation

Restful justification

Deserved relaxation

Diminishing pension

Perpetual hibernation

But so far mostly fun

Sck120812

None Today

~

There’ll be no daily sonnet today.

Thought has wandered and gone astray.

Nimble quill won’t dance on parchment bare,

seducing lonely on table near.

 

The well is dry from which I must drink.

Chair is empty were journeys to think.

No inky tears shed, blotted or smeared.

No blackened hands bloodied and feared.

 

Letters scrambled all over my mind.

Their chosen order I cannot find.

Brittle wax puddle proves candles death.

The darkness swallows my daylights breath.

 

Blindness shackles a masked and heavy head.

I shrink into my unwanted bed.

Heart and soul content for tomorrow.

When ink, I hope, once more will flow

~*~

sck082614

A Poet’s Desire

~

If I could turn my words into the finest wine

We’d sail on those balmy seas until the end of time

If I could print money on all the paper that I use

Our sky would rain confetti any time you choose

~

If my wishes granted for all that I desire

We’d spent our moonlit evenings cuddled by a fire

If my fantasies could ever be reality

All I’d ever need is for you to be with me.

~*~

Sck101214

Why

Why do writers write,

why do lovers fight,

why the lonely night?

`

Why do we ask why,

why must we say good bye,

why must we even try?

`

Why do demons taunt,

why do ghosts haunt,

why does beauty flaunt?

`

Why do dragons fly,

why’s the moon so high,

why does all life die?

`

Why dream of things afar,

why does life leave a scar,

why is why who we are.

`

Sck111014

Bountiful

~

Summer’s at its end, no paths leading home,

memories haunt, hunger leads wherever he does roam.

The hazy starlight setting, the sun’s ready to rise.

A frightened little orphan wipes dreams from sleepy eyes.

~

Soon the bells will ring calling all’s return.

The timid sure to flounder, the hardy always earn.

Darting through the alleys, the bay comes in view.

Ships aplenty ply the piers promising something new.

~

Upon these docks seabirds feast,

sharing the waste with all other beast.

Flies swarm, rats persist and hungry dogs bark.

There are many unseen faces lurking in the dark.

~

Survivors all, as is he, sharing the spoils of a bountiful sea,

no masters’ switch or mothers’ screams when a life is free.

Two pockets and a mouth full will feed for a day.

Fancy cord or carved wood may even bring some pay.

~

Scavenging for a morsel, a meal comes in sight.

Tis crated fruits from afar, a taste of pure delight.

Brushing off the larvae and peeling rotted skin,

sweet sensations pass the lips, a smile grows within.

~

Then giggles gurgled from his blissful throat.

Till greed consumes and bellies bloat.

Euphoria swells and inhibitions subside.

The bustle begins there’s no need to hide.

~

While hunger had made his mind alert.

Gluttony now makes his body inert.

Guard lowered, feet slow to run,

this young boys’ journey’s now just begun.

~

Sailors seized the well fed thief.

Then shackled aboard to ease their grief,

a gift for the captain from his loyal crew.

A cabin boy’s needed, there’s much to do.

~

Soon underway and far from land,

the mate unlocks the orphans’ hand.

The boy then runs toward sun and air.

On deck he cries watching land disappear.

~

Formalities scant then forced to chores,

His long nights stowed behind locked doors.

They voyaged south where weather’s warm,

when the waters grew bumpy ahead of a storm.

~

The captain commanded his capable crew.

And the boy was forgotten with so much to do.

The bright sun fell with the dark rising sea.

Freedom escapes when nowhere to flee.

~

The howling winds and roaring waves,

called heroes and fools to watery graves.

The skipper stood bravely at his battered helm,

barking out orders to all in his realm.

~

He called for his servant to secure a line tight.

The boy climbed too high, falling into the night.

The bosons’ pipe blew and bells rang out,

muffling the sounds of the orphans last shout.

~

The boy sank fast with his final breath.

When suddenly snatched by the jaws of death.

In a cage of tooth and tongue for seat,

waiting was he to be something’s treat

~

Swimming as fast as ever she could,

the serpent’s intensions were soon understood.

Diving through darkness then leaps in the air.

A long journey had, till the weather was fair.

~

He awoke on a beach, the serpent close by.

Being baked in hot sand to be eaten and die.

Before he could run the beast came near.

She patted his head and said “Have no fear.”

~

She gazed into his scared little eyes.

Assuring him serpent myths were lies.

“We’re not all monsters or killers you see,

though maybe a few but certainly not me.”

~

“Serpents get angry when harpoons fly their way,

or when dragged ashore for a tasty fillet.

Bounties are had that pay by the pound,

riches await when a big serpents found.”

~

The new friends chatted the rest of the day.

They shared their pasts till no more to say.

Dozing they snuggled on a bed of soft leaf,

dreaming of a life without any grief.

~

Wakened to sunshine and breakfast pre-made.

The grinning pair feasted on greens in the shade.

Then time for a swim in their private lagoon.

They frolicked together till the rising full moon.

~

Days and weeks then years soon past,

the happy young boy was growing fast.

The pair traveled the oceans and faraway lands,

their life’s serene with no demands.

~

They ate and slept and played on a whim,

till the boy grew curious of others like him.

He asked many questions, to the serpent unknown,

her boy a young man, now twice grown.

~

His name, he had none, he could recall.

He was always called boy and that was all.

The serpent, a serpent, there’s no need for a name.

The boy called her mum just the same.

~

The wise serpent knew their time couldn’t last,

The boy’s now a man and still growing fast.

Mum was ashamed of keeping the boy,

to coddle and cuddle and treat like a toy.

~

They played together, she watched him grow,

all the time knowing he’d eventually go.

A plan was hatched she couldn’t admit.

If her boy found out he’d have a fit.

~

She would swim close to shore then into the bay.

She’d crash on the beach for her boy’s big payday.

A hero he’d be and rewarded a bounty vast.

But she had to be quick for her nerve to last.

~

The day was perfect and the sky was clear.

Boy was napping when land came near.

The plan underway, Mum turned the last bend.

The town grew closer, her life soon to end.

~

Flapping her flippers as fast as she could,

splashes seen as she knew they would.

With one last thrust she lunged for the land.

The boy awakened when thrown to the sand.

~

The town folk scattered, guards quick to arrive.

None had seen a serpent alive.

Bruised and battered the boy came to.

Quickly he knew what he had to do.

~

He knew his friend would have a plan.

The boy’s time was now to be a man

Fearlessly facing his many foes,

standing with mum to shield their arrows.

~

He called for the general to make a deal.

“Spare your feasts now for many a meal.

Or a battle we will have with much to lose.

Life or death sir is for you now to choose.”

~

The general perplexed requested his king.

A long hour past, mum started to sing.

The crowds joined in and fears were eased.

The deal was sealed and all were pleased.

~

The general was spared potential bloodshed.

The serpent was spared her intelligent head.

The boy made an admiral though a scant crew,

with a fleet of just one and we all know who.

~

His beloved town prospered, called the boy Beau.

Replacing the name he didn’t know.

Beau got married, had many a young.

The eldest’s in a band with a grand mum who sung.

~

The End

~*~

SCK092015

Wood of Gray

Rocks and trees look the same in a wood of gray.

They share a darkened sky that wraps a fallen day.

Crackles and snaps taint silent air with sound.

Where collages of colors melt into the ground.

~

Then the chilly breeze and the early night,

That awakens all to the same hazy light.

Seasons end when another begins,

Some icy cold with freezing winds.

~

Some blooming buds and misty showers,

turning tiny seeds into mighty towers.

These longer days we all must grow,

then starlit nights will be aglow.

~

With heat enough to turn green red.

Then yellows float to golden bed.

To share their dreams in patchwork mind,

of sunny times with shade that’s kind.

~

 To rest among where fallen lay,

and ponder together this wood of gray.

~*~

sck110614

Cats with Balls

Balls of yarn in a basket rest,
tightly wound await their quest.
Cats a-pouncing, a playful pest,
balls unwound are surely messed.
~
But if to be a ball at rest,
is to be without life’s zest.
To unwind, we humans blessed.
Perhaps the cat does know best.
~
But we’re not cats, as you’ve guessed.
And if to pounce we’re addressed.
Our winding road we’re obsessed.
And our time is surely pressed.
~
But like a basket we welcome guest,
receiving all to our cozy nest.
Though when full we get stressed,
perhaps to knit, but surely I jest.
~
Our paths in life we can request.
Our destinations we manifest.
But our time we must invest.
Or simply the litter we’ll digest.

~*~
SCK061120

Symptomatic

The day was young and the coffee’s old.
The season’s new and the outside’s cold.
The inside’s warm so in I’ll stay.
I’m not feeling well this chilly day.
~
I brewed some more and drink it all.
Saving none then duty did call.
Then back to bed, or at least I thought.
I forgot what excess has often taught.
~
I tossed and turned for a little too long.
Then to the bathroom, but nothing’s wrong.
I needed a tissue for a sneeze I felt coming.
Proven right the sensation was numbing.
~
My plans now nixed, the sniffles persisted.
Medicine taken, their side-effects listed.
I’ve started to doze and none too soon.
Please wake me up before the spring moon.

~*~
SCK092320

What’s Up Doc?

~

I think we should all have bunny ears,

designating our merits over the years.

Lengths long lost hurting others,

heights higher helping sisters and brothers.

~

Success’s measured in fractions of a hair.

A few points added for additional flair.

Color’s welcome, natural’s best.

Blue’s unseen when none’s stressed.

~

A bunny ear board could endorse promotions.

The bunny brigade would enforce demotions.

The lazy whither though no harm’s done.

Evil ones snipped for they deserve none.

~

Straight-up or floppy, some tied in a knot,

eerie presentations always say a lot.

Sadness droops and lies alert,

the bigger the hop the less inert.

~

Nothing’s unheard of or misunderstood,

when all’s heard and all heard is good.

A world’s more sharing when more’s the same,

less careless flipping of coins for the game.

~

Life could be more than winning the bet,

when what you see is what you get.

That’s why I think we should all grow a pair.

Then tend our garden with the greatest of care.

~*~

Sck040116