~
My pens compression
Unfortunately suited
For stress and tension
~*~
sck040816
~
My pens compression
Unfortunately suited
For stress and tension
~*~
sck040816
~*~
May forever’s forever bloom
May our presence never gloom
May your eyes see all truly kind.
May your lips say love is blind
~
May your words rest on my ears
May your heart beat back the fears
May your hands reach, touch and hold
May your mind color all bright and bold
~
Yet May’s may not blossom forever
Nor April and June’s Spring together
May all our seasons forever glow
And may our love forever grow
~*~
sck040716
~*~
A blanket of white for early Spring
Pink and yellow pop, chilly birds sing
Grass unseen for another day
Tis’ an April morn; the New England way
~*~
sck040516
~
The well hanged and hung
Share not knotty trysts with twists
Yet each flop when done
~*~
sck040316
~*~
Titans rise from mounds of trash.
Soon is seen the survivalist stash.
A garbage economy flush in dirty cash.
The mind’s to waste, throats to slash.
~
Industries shuttered and our cities ablaze.
Fields untilled, nil remains to graze.
Warmth reeks, skies awash in the haze.
All’s left to dream of those good old days.
~*~
sck040316
~
If you’re in no hurry to go
then I’m in no hurry to stay
I’ll pack up my belongings
and be out by the end of the day
.
You can’t ever keep a job
Or even wash the clothes
Our meals served at the drive-thru
That’s where the money goes
.
The few dollars that remain
Is always spent on ink
The few hours that we share
Always your time to think
.
You lock yourself in a room
There you laugh, scream and cry
While I long for the silence
When one of us will die
.
If not for crumpled notes
Our stove would be always cold
Your hot and chilled emotions
Once steamy have gotten old
.
We haven’t kissed in a week
There’s been no love for a year
I’ve now begun to wonder
If love was ever there
.
Now you say you wrote a poem
That all the world should see
It’s a poem of love and devotion
But this one’s just for me
.
If these words of passion
Are as true as you say
Rumpled sheets await
There’s no need to leave today
.
But if they’re not
as all other times before
My future will unfold
beyond your paper door
~*~
sck032916
~
Children see a world through eyes that are our own
Blinded to other views until their eyes have grown
Knowledge then divides when education is on loan
Cooperation’s needed to set a civil tone
Problems fester when we all moan and groan
Productive solutions are forever unknown
Fearing that someone will cast the first stone
Waiting for others to throw the first bone
Passing on peace or a big steaming cone
Time’s now for grown-ups to show they’ve grown
Let’s save this place we all see as our own
~*~
Sck032716
*
Some hearts warm, some cold,
yet all share a bloody thirst.
Circulating both love and hate,
who’s to shout or shoot first?
.
This darkness of man held in a hand,
yet the voice has never killed.
Though orders cried for more to die,
by others brave and skilled.
.
Organs strewn and heads hewn,
the victors’ lust begins.
Checks cashed then all gets smashed,
the big brass always wins
.
Mothers cry and babies die,
someone wins a pin.
The degree to which this hell’s risen,
is all an unforgiveable sin.
.
Some hearts warm and some are cold,
why can’t we try to neutralize?
Let’s build on our commonality,
returning joy to our children’s eyes.
~*~
sck032416
~
Ocean currents and changing tide,
the clash of titans to decide.
Which way do the swells and waves go?
All’s swirling and crashing to and fro.
.
The eons of time cannot choose,
who will win or who will lose.
Twice a day their battle rages,
as always has throughout the ages.
~*~
sck032316
~
Yesterday’s blooms now a lonely stalk
All’s blustery fodder for tomorrow’s talk
Morning blizzard then an afternoon walk
A brilliant sunset with full moonrise
Shaded snow defiant still lies
Twas our early spring surprise
~*~
sck032116
~
To live another
twenty years is half life in
the middle ages
~*~
sck032116
~
Population grown
with four men per one thousand
women, less lessens
~*~
sck031816
~
A lad from the Queens there was
He toyed with politics, just because
His following’s heated yet degrees are few
All’s yugely impressed by the size of his shoe
Cos that’s what a little red cap does
~*~
sck031716
Mornings fog this St. Paddy’s day
A chill in the air but spring’s on the way
Life’s returning from winter’s ghost
Time’s now, don your greens – share a toast
Rejoice with old friends and make some new
Tis the day Irish luck’s with all of you
We’ll bloom together, all’s chosen
All living green and having fun
Soon our days filled with sun
Saints all, when all are one
*
Sck031715
~
Rest, relax, reflect,
reorganize and resolve,
restore and repeat.
~*~
sck031416
~
Seedlings placed by chance or hand,
burst to thrust from loam and sand.
Their journey skyward a jagged path,
intertwining askew betwixt slatted lath.
.
With thorny fingers, not meant to reveal,
oft misread yet intensions are real.
Twisting and weaving through space and time,
trellis clung for their treacherous climb.
.
They’ve hands of green to catch the rays,
holding the light for cloudy days.
Or drenches, droughts and starless nights,
all’s risen anew to new morning heights.
.
Weathering a diverse world of adversity,
timely teachings taught of tolerance and tenacity.
Evolving resolve for dependence together,
blooms beckon bees and birds of a feather.
.
Golden treasure’s deep to entice and please,
fragrant allure’s cast to the breeze.
Sights and scents sensed by all.
Colors await next seasons call.
.
Days grow shorter, stems grow long,
primed for pruning though nothing wrong.
Bunched and bundled, arrayed and displayed,
till petals drop there a table laid.
.
Brushed in hand returned to land,
budding foundation where others may stand.
Cohesive nature’s expressive of art,
cycles revolve all back to start.
.
And this rose but a metaphor for all that’s living,
words remind literally of what life’s giving.
~*~
sck022916
~
Unfortunately
the easiest thing there is
to not do is write
~*~
sck022716
~
At an English peak and the new lost
a short turn’s taken at the gambrels cross.
Trees tall to recall centuries of the past
from carriage path to autos passing fast.
.
Reminiscent a lane with styles to fade
hillside perched and often made.
With a gentle rise to never waiver
our walks through time long to savor.
~*~
sck022716
~
A crocus risen
to a February sun
withers with its moon
~*~
sck022716
~
The irony of
inherent intelligence
is idiocy
~*~
sck022616
~
The pencil is drawn
To pen and inks permanence
Yet only quills fly
~*~
sck022516
~
All’s to mesh, slip smooth or grind
Creating thus the human bind
Opinions for all and of each
Lines drawn within arm’s reach
Decisive haste a conclusion brings
As the butterfly flaps its wings
~*~
Sck022116