story

Webs in the Attic

I sit at the kitchen table waiting for thoughts to come.
So far none’s forthcoming; I’m hoping there’ll be some.
Time is quickly passing as I stare off into space.
If wasting time were a sport I know I’d win the race.
~
But words don’t run on tracks and thoughts know no time.
But if patience is a virtue then waiting is no crime.
Procrastination is a different thing, results will find away.
It’s a choice that we make to give away our say.
~
Yesterdays’ may be gone but our actions will remain.
Mistakes made along the way will leave a lasting stain.
We wake each day to change, thinking everything’s the same.
But time moves only forward and tomorrows’ we cannot tame.
~
We’ll take our deepest breath and dive in head first.
We try to make the biggest splash to satisfy our thirst.
The volumes fill up fast, their content is our own.
The good we see in others reflects on how we’ve grown.
~
The time is getting late and I’m fading fast.
Why must the future wait while sleeping off the past?
So I’ll wait another day for something new to write.
The winter blues are passing and mornings looking bright.
~
Optimism’s on the rise though heights often chill.
Pessimism is an easy fall but the bottom is no thrill.
Windows will soon be open and fresh starts will appear.
And those webs in the attic just need the spring to clear.

~*~
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Sanctuary

On the lookout for my last place to dwell,
some were OK, some looked like hell.
Seen a grand old home in a bad part town,
but it was too high and they wouldn’t come down.
~
We saw one so scary, ghosts wouldn’t live there.
I’m picky I know but I think that I’m fair.
My home now is charming; I’ve been here for years.
Saying goodbye I’ll probably shed tears.
~
I’m close to a harbor and a quaint Main street.
My neighbors are close but mostly discrete.
I have no garage and I’d like some land.
I’d prefer something wooded to the beach sand.
~
Though a lakeside retreat would surely be fun,
I’d soon be drowned paying for one.
I’d like something older and properly restored.
I don’t need a hobby cos I’m never bored.
~
I don’t need a compound or a pasture for beasts.
But a barn would be nice to house family feast.
So the search goes on, but I’ve no worries or fright.
It’s like finding true love; you know when it’s right.

~*~
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Dreaming Tomorrows

Another day of quitting to quit,
another day to feel like a twit.
My morning had started pretty well,
but as the day warmed so did my hell.
~
So I jumped in my car to cool my head,
but took a wrong turn and to the store I sped.
I bought some milk and tobacco too.
Then I limped home and smoked till blue.
~
Tomorrow’s gladly another day.
I’ll rise optimistic with demons at bay.
Boiling water the urges will swell.
The heat will be on then back to hell.
~
Will I submit or stand and fight?
The battle lost the end’s in sight.
But now it’s to bed to dream as I do.
Will there be many or be just a few?

~*~
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In the Dark

A brother and sister went for a walk.
They laughed out loud and had a talk.
Time flew by as they hiked the trail.
They sat for a break but their lunch was stale.
~
The shadows grew long as the sun sank low.
Which way was home, they didn’t know.
With all seeming lost there’s no place to hide.
If light’s to be seen they’ve only stars to guide.
~
Paths disappear beneath feet unseen.
Hands reach out for some space between.
The sounds of night are now loud and clear.
Eyes open wide seeing nothing but fear.
~
Imagination filled their weary heads.
The siblings now dreamt of their cozy beds.
But attention’s gone when fantasy’s there.
The pair separate and nightmares they share.
~
Shrieks and howls soon filled the wood.
The children screamed as they should.
Hours melted and death was thought.
Then a flashlight seen and home they’re brought.
~
The End

~*~
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Seconds Count

I woke up early and wasted time,
scribbled some words but none that rhyme.
There’s stories told again and again.
And I’ll have another but I know not when.
~
My body rose from a cozy bed.
Thoughts poured from my sleepy head.
But with no order there’s no start.
And with no meaning there is no art.
~
While mindless dribble flows with ease,
like foggy memories of the open seas.
Or of early years spent flat broke,
when thinking time was just a joke.
~
But love was found and a child born.
A father lost and mothers mourn.
Successes found and maturity spurred.
Sickness consumed then depression prospered.
~
The future then seen through the eyes of one.
Oblivion felt and life seemed done.
Years pass by but seconds count.
And to rise again, love’s paramount.

~*~
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Retrierment

A late morning pleasant surprise,
when a chance glance spied loving eyes.
Hands soon touch and our lips soon meet,
our brains tingle to our heart’s beat.

Dancing feet scale heavenly stairs,
heights achieved lessen our cares.
Breathing’s heavy, our pillows soft,
troubles behind when two’s aloft.

The clock will run as we both lay,
pleasantly surprised for today.
Age needn’t be a time to whine,
just take a nap and you’ll be fine.

~*~
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Buggered

Every glitch finds a way;
to fix itself or wreck the day.
Sometime things don’t work as planned.
Sometime plans must be panned.
~
A cat with fleas is truly bad.
A ruined trip is surely sad.
Heads in a tizzy, tensions on high,
sometime maybes just won’t fly.
~
But some time things do work out.
And all ends well where there was doubt.
The cat’s O.K. and the kid’s on her jet.
And a story’s to tell, this I’ll bet.

~*~
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Good Day Anyway

When I don’t feel great, I get up too late.
And the sun’s now high in the sky.
~
The day’s now begun, but with hours less fun.
And I’m finding not much to say.
~
With coffee and torch, I head for the porch,
awaiting that first smoke of the day.
~
The music’s down low, the words start to flow.
And time’s now starting to fly.
~
I raise my head, thankfully not dead.
No need to question why.
~
With love all around, my two feet on the ground,
I see there’s no better way.

~*~
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Foggy but Clear

Counting the seconds before the rain,
morning fog has fogged my brain.
The hour early but work is waiting,
I have to go there’s no debating.
~
My love slumbers while I think.
Her morning poem is on the brink.
Minutes pass without a word.
But not to write would be absurd.
~
I see her sleeping in my mind.
A more equal love I’ll never find.
Nightly visions I wish to keep,
I dream of her when I’m asleep.
~
Another hour just slipped past,
she’ll soon awake so I’ll write fast.
Though nothing deep in her poem today,
fortunately words aren’t love anyway.

~*~
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Serendipity

A busy day has just begun;
I got up late, no time for fun.
So it’s off to work in a flash,
I’d rather not but I need the cash.
~
The time is near when time’s my own.
I’m not too old but surely grown.
Retirement’s to be my second chance.
I’ll write all day and enjoy romance.
~
I’ll still get up early, I like the dawn.
I’ll take out the dog to pee on the lawn.
The sun will rise and words will flow.
There’ll be no rushing, I’ve nowhere to go.
~
But that time’s a few weeks away,
my feelings then I cannot say.
But I’m thinking I’ll yell YIPPY!
Then go home for a life of serendipity.

~*~
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Our Time

The clock’s ticking, our time is near.
My heart beats louder, soon she’ll be here.
Hugs await and we’ll chat of our day.
Work’s done now time’s our way.
~
Gentle kisses between laughter we share.
Loving eyes show each other we care.
The sun will set, to paradise we’ll go.
Entwined we doze beneath the stars aglow.

~*~
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What a Rush

I got up late and have no time,
no time to ponder or to rhyme.
But I got some rest and that’s good.
But I didn’t write like I should.
~
My love won’t wake to poetry,
no token of love made by me.
Just hugs and kisses will have to do.
And the simple words “I love you”
~
I’ll hold her tight before I go,
then some more to let her know.
Words are conjured in the mind,
then sculpted on paper when time’s to find.
~
Time is precious and not to waste,
love endures no need for haste.
Sometimes heads are full of mush.
But the future’s ours, no need to rush.

~*~
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A Hint of Poetry

There’s poetry for hate and for love.
There are poems for hawks and the dove.
Some are short, some quite long,
some add music and make a song.
~
There are poems that are happy but many are sad.
There’s poetry that’s good while none really bad.
Some poems rhyme and others not,
some just a little, some rhymesalot.
~
There’s effort made to make you smile.
There are jokes thrown in once in a while.
Sometimes yes and sometimes no,
some get posted and others go.
~
There’s poetry that’s biographical.
There are funny poems but this one laughable.
Someday I’ll write a book for print,
someday when I get a hint.

~*~
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Love and Death, Life and Breath

The universe dark when afraid,
atoms pulse and bonds made.
The voice within will rise and fall,
a poet’s obsession is defining all.
~
Heartbeats heard of passerby,
all’s to feel or question why.
Understood or criticized,
words writ, spoken or surmised.
~
Eye’s see truth and tell no lies,
somewhere, always are bright blue skies.
To write of life is to ponder death.
To be loved is sharing breath.

~*~
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Gusts

From native seeds to distant seas,
hurricanes to cool breeze,
grassy hills and tumbleweeds,
adrift, aloof, alone and seeking needs.
~
Dreams traded seeking goals,
time’s journeys thickens souls.
Changes changed every day,
pasts to pass, seconds stay.
~
Even odds equal greater,
of each the others creator.
Clouds lift and fog clears,
sunshine brightens lost years.
~
Eyes meet and hands hold,
minds meld and lives unfold.
Vision’s clear, to each we please.
Fusion warms a cool breeze.

~*~
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No Words

An unexpected journey has begun;
it starts each day with the rising sun.
Two fates collided with a rush,
our worries faded into a hush.
~
I wake each day with a smile,
surely to glow all the while.
My first thought is only you,
now silly dreams just won’t do.
~
Our minds, they are in sync,
I sense what you think.
I know what you’re feeling,
our souls now reeling.
~
Our days now made more bright,
we’ll tingle till our last kiss goodnight.
And I, now a poet speechless and dreams won’t do.
And my heart now and forever beats for only you.

~*~
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Whom Me

There’s another me I’ve yet to see.
And this other me won’t let this one be.
Both see with my eyes and screw with my head.
But only one’s good, the other better off dead.
~
Never certain whom will wake,
or the trouble they will make.
Their highs often go way, way too far,
their lows always leaving a scar.
~
I need to know from where this comes,
who eats cake and who gets crumbs?
This rollercoaster must soon stop,
but then a merry-go-round I will hop.
~
I’m forcing this poem for a change,
may not be good but surely strange.
And maybe someday we can all agree,
whom the f*** is the real me.

~*~
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Make Poems Great Again

A fetish for takers and feckless of makers,
believers of fakers and the muckrakers,
a sea of red buttons seen from above,
swaying to orange for whom they love.
~
The air is heated with hate that’s spewed.
But that’s cool if already screwed.
Mirrors shine on what’s not there,
while reflection dulls what’s to fear.
~
A line in the ocean’s making waves,
digging ever deeper graves.
Float if be as bobbing naves,
but beware or soon be slaves.
~
No half or full with no cup,
once buried there is no up.
What lies below lies above,
only truth can raise all with love.

~*~
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Sunday

As the time grows near,
anticipation grows to fear.
First meetings are always hard,
but at least a page for the bard.
~
Black or white or shades of plaid,
good or bad an experience had.
A pleasant day and a pleasant lunch,
tomorrow’s unknown, but a hunch.
~
Sparks yet to fly,
there’s no twinkle in the eye,
a goodbye hug with space between,
love at first sight not felt or seen.
~
A future call will say it all,
will there be a summer or a fall.
Days ahead, there’s a bunch,
more pleasant times and yet another lunch.

~*~
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Just Barely a Story

This is just a story so please bear in mind,
I’m barely a writer so please be kind.
I’m trying not to write of beer, bears or being bare,
though a nude, drunken bear a fun story to share.
~
Sometimes inspiration flows.
Other times it’s I don’t knows.
Some days the sun shines bright.
Others, it’s forever night.
~
Now back to bears, just a quick sidebar.
It won’t take long, I won’t go far.
Once upon a time there were surely more than three.
And some lived in houses like you and me?
~
The thought of that requires consideration,
but better still observation.
So with the flow starting to show,
it’s off to the forest I go.
~
Hours pass and sleep consumes.
The night unseen and sunshine resumes.
A hearty breakfast with tea and honey,
yesterday’s dread now seems funny.
~
Oh! I have to stop; I’ve run out of time.
I found their beer and I’m full of rhyme.
But now imagining fear because near are the bear.
I’ll find my clothes later, I don’t care.

~*~
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Dwelling

The sun’s rising on a happy note.
Music’s low, eyes open to what she wrote.
Spirit’s high and excitement’s felt.
Colorful words shared and dwelt.
~
The sky’s brightening to pastel hues.
Old snow absorbs winter’s blues.
Each day wanes its frosty reflection.
Moments are waiting of pure perfection.
~
Warming’s new, thawing on its way.
Lives freshly created every day.
Images stage what’s perceived.
Minds arrange what’s deceived.
~
Visions form words, words become visions.
Answer’s clear but for decisions.
As is the suns rise and fall, without doubt.
Our projection, this day’s about.

~*~
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