nature

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.

~*~
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The Wizard of Windham

The wizard of Windham lived on the hill.
His walls of stone are standing there still.
The roof’s now long gone as is the tower,
once a symbol of the wizard’s great power.
~
His age was unknown, a millennium guessed.
The first settlers awed, but some less impressed.
The natives too could never agree.
Were his acts wizardly or wise fakery?
~
The questions delayed with new problems brewing.
The settlers flourished and the natives were stewing.
Agreements were made and boarders were mapped.
The hill was the place where both overlapped.
~
The wizard then asked to choice just one side.
The wizard then answered with a grin, big and wide.
“I’ll choose no side as the hill is my own,
each stone hand-placed, a thousand years grown.”
~
“My family, you see, arose from these grounds.
We speak and we hear all natures’ sounds.
The grasses here grow tall to tickle my feet.
And the berries are delicious because I like sweet.”
~
The chiefs convinced as he spoke of their legends.
Each then agreed it’s best to be friends.
The settlers too thought that was best.
A treaty was signed and they all now could rest.
~
Years then passed with the wizard unseen.
But his tower stood proud on its hill of green.
The settlers now settled and their families grew.
The natives moved on leaving now but a few.
~
A new generation, now triple in size,
gazed at the hill with big greedy eyes.
The treaty forgotten as was the wizard.
They planned to start building after the blizzard.
~
The long winter passed, the spring brought more rain.
That summer was scorching, then autumn again.
Builders were hired that following spring.
A fortress they’d build with a big banquet wing.
~
Wagons were loaded and the horses well fed.
The mayor woke early from his big comfy bed.
A speech he’d planned for that very day.
But storm clouds moved in and the sky turned gray.
~
His speech was canceled but the builders went ahead.
The mayor scurried home then back to bed.
Rain soon started then followed by hail.
The wagons got stuck on the wet slippery trail.
~
The work then delayed until the skies cleared.
Months soon passed, much longer than feared.
Rumors spread of the wizards return;
if magic he has come summer they’ll burn.
~
By early June the sky hinted of blue,
the trail now firm and the grass green and new.
The builders then called to make a new start.
The horses led forward pulling wagon and cart.
~
The trail narrowed at the base of the hill.
Then the horses all stopped and just stood still.
The builders got scared and ran back to town.
The mayor got fired for being a clown.
~
Some say the wizard had gotten his way.
That legend lives on to this very day.
Does the wizard still live, well nobody knows.
But his hill’s still green as the little town grows.

~*~
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If 2 Be

If to live a life of fantasy,
immortality bound and trouble free.
Never to be a wannabe,
desires fulfilled by decree.
What would they be, Oh what would they be?
~
To be an explorer on the open sea,
nature bound and living free,
the entire world I would see.
I’d fulfill life’s destiny.
Where would it be, where would it be?
~
An artist perhaps, filling the world with glee,
history bound and creating free,
painting for all a new reality.
Or I’ll write a song with perfect harmony.
How will it be, how will it be?
~
Maybe a billionaire on a shopping spree,
luxury bound and spending free,
rolling about with bling and scree.
Or I’d give it all away to charity.
What would it be, what would it be?
~
A philosopher would be great, solving life’s mystery,
intellectually bound and thinking free,
cleaning up mankind’s debris.
And debate all who disagree.
When will it be, when will it be?
~
But I’m not, I’m just me,
homeward bound and mostly free,
curious of complexity.
Loving and loved I guarantee.
Who could it be, who could it be, it’s you and me!

~*~
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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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Music to My Ears

Lulled by music without a sound,
sleep arises when feet leave the ground.
The high notes soar, the low notes pound,
harmony’s felt all around.
~
Eyes closed with visions bright,
darkness consumes, and we call it night.
Stars shine with guiding light,
our sun awakens a new day’s sight.
~
Hidden worlds then unseen,
reality just time between.
There’s months of white and of green,
pastel shades fill the scene.
~
Ghosts of the past by our side,
together we travel far and wide.
Upon their wings, how high we glide,
melody’s echo like a changing tide.
~
Life is lived never alone,
spirits follow on their own.
Reminding us what to atone,
joining then when we’re grown.
~
Death’s a part of paying dues,
we only cry when we lose.
The future is for us to choose,
we’re still singing, singing the blues.

~*~
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Gone Fish’n

A boat ride changed my life,
the sun soon to rise.
The air brisk, I didn’t care,
answers await my eyes.
~
The sky begins to glow,
my vision’s now in view.
Time seemed to stop,
my life’s now to do.
~
My feet hit the ground,
head stuck in the clouds.
Peace finally at hand,
no bustling of the crowds.
~
The gulls sang me welcome,
the trees waved hello.
A path leads me forward,
my future to bestow.
~
Day turned into night,
stars guide my way.
Memories flood my mind,
the past, I have no say.
~
Questions were abound,
slumber won the race.
Awakened by a breeze,
little kisses on my face.
~
My plan now in limbo,
storm clouds filled the skies.
My lesson was then learned,
truth’s behind the eyes.
~*~
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Sedentary Travels

My day begins before the sun’s rise.
My cat meows and I open my eyes,
I stumble downstairs and she gets fed.
If the weather’s bad we go back to bed.
~
If the weather’s good we’ll stay awake.
I’ll boil some water and coffee I’ll make.
Then off to the porch, facing due east.
The sky lights up and eyes will feast.
~
The dark now shed the future’s begun.
We’ve choices to make; good, bad or fun.
I choose fun because that’s always good.
The bad’s unchosen that’s understood.
~
An hour passes and sometimes two.
Where the time goes I have no clue.
Often I write or just sit and ponder.
I think of life and what I squander.
~
The sun gets high, the workday’s soon.
There’ll be hustle and bustle till late afternoon.
The clock ticks slower thinking of home.
Then back to the porch where minds can roam.

~*~
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Morning Triku #169 ~ Haiku Theoreticallish

haiku theoreticallish

~*~
Our Wrinkle in Time

Work is what we do,
when not doing what we want.
Like death but with pay.

~
Constant Ripples

Time is space between.
Between matters and doesn’t.
Distance less with light.

~
Perpetual Emotion

Love is energy.
Hearts, minds and bodies unite.
Time accelerates.

~*~
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Stuck in the Middle with Me

Having reached the pinnacle of mediocrity,
the vista’s not quite what I thought it to be.
Valleys dwelt, sunlight shading overtime,
peaks overshadowed by this risers’ climb.
~
Tomorrows sculpted with what’s on hand,
rocky paths forged with mud and sand.
Yesterdays cleansed by the will of the sea;
darkness consumed by a will to be free.
~
Years like seconds cast to the breeze,
a gales awaiting, each day a tease.
But to wake I shall, today I did.
I’m halfway there, but again just mid.

~*~
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Dream Love

Only dreamers live the life they choice.
Only gamblers have a life to lose.
With every word there’s a cost.
With every second a second’s lost.
~
Every child has a dream to live.
Every parent has a life to give.
And for every wish there’s a smile.
But only love makes it all worthwhile.

~*~
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Poultry Dreams

In the name of man’s greed and chicken feed,
a farmer hatched his scheme to succeed.
He’d create a chicken with numerous wings.
Then, he too, could soar with the like’s kings.
~
Wings sell well but they sell way too cheap.
But if he had more the more he would reap.
He mortgaged his house and sold his truck.
He kept his old dog who brought him luck.
~
His wife kicked him out to sleep in the hay.
The breeding was started the very next day.
Time quickly passed and soon it was a year.
Most thought him a fool, although sincere.
~
With a cock-a-doodle-do he rose with the sun.
The day would be his, full of pride, joy and fun.
He sprinted to the house to fetch his ex-wife,
who had recently remarried to start a new life.
~
They walked to the barn, after some yelling.
The closer they got the more they were smelling.
With the odor intense, the farmer opened the door.
And with one big swoosh his hopes were no more.
~
His most wonderous chickens all flew the coop.
And the poor farmer left with only their poop.
The lesson of course being evolution’s not a race.
And those who disbelieve get egg on their face.

~*~
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Seconds

Awaiting the sunrise,
starlight fills sleepy eyes,
coffee’s brewing brighter skies.
~
I feel today’s a happy day.
Clearing is the persistent gray.
And spring’s finally on its way.
~
Summer’s next, heart’s to thaw.
The beats of two inspire with awe.
Sunset’s as one an unimagined draw.
~
With a change of hue fall we’ll thirst,
a future’s quenched well-rehearsed.
But I think I need my second cup first.

~*~
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Rest in Fleece

One more month and spring is here.
When freezing to death’s no longer a fear.
We’ll pack our sweaters, hats and coats.
Soon the bay will fill with boats.
~
Flowers will bloom and temps will rise.
Trees will green before longing eyes.
Days get longer, nights a bit cool.
But now we wait, because time’s cruel.
~
I don’t hate winter or the cold.
But those months are growing old.
I do like autumn but spring is still best.
So for one more month I’ll just rest.

~*~
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