story

Sleepy Town

Dusk shrouds foggy walks
Whispers heard when no one talks
The old town hall shines felicity
Its library shares the pageantry

Main Street bristles with conspicuous zeal
Spirits roam unseen when unreal
Tales abound of young maidens kissed
Faces unknown for souls unmissed

Yarns be spun of their tiny cove
Time surrounds, the mind does rove
Behind every door lie stories untold
Life in a village three hundred years old

High on the hill sits a Queen Anne alone
She’s peaks of copper and footing of stone
Her windows boarded to hide the view
Abandoned by the town, seen by few

The home once a school for wayward boys
Most had no families, none knew of toys
A cagey couple was completely in charge
Both small in stature yet looming large

The mistress taught letters with pointer or switch
The master kept numbers making them rich
Gruel’s fed to the students, the master’s meat
The boys froze; the pair warmed by their heat

Ablaze was the furnace ahead of each storm
The lads safely locked in their cold attic dorm.
Their sniffles and sneezes all kept at bay
The masters swept all the sickness away

Each year had runaways, never to be found
Searches end at the edge of school ground
Then came a young man sheltered in error
He promptly escaped and reported the terror

Inquires made, investigations were had
The masters left freely, the mayor glad
The school was closed with little fanfare
The boys sent away with little a care

Rumors lost from days long past
Horrors are hidden all too fast
No more’s said of the young boys plight
And another sun sets on a sleepy town’s night

~*~

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The seas choppy there’s no port in sight.
A paradise found disappeared overnight.
Alone on the bridge now’s time to reflect.
When a course assured why reject?

Charts bear no point with a destination behind.
And the oceans small in space I find.
A tern overhead I’ve still to hope.
For the sailor, line’s life, there is no rope.

~*~
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On a Roll

Her scent lingers, I flushed away.
I sense the push of another shitty day.
She polluted my mind and soiled my bed.
Leave me alone, get out of my head!
~
We fed our needs and ate our cake.
Her outside sweet, her inside’s fake.
Her taste and touch I felt were real.
Now pinched cheeks is all I feel.
~
My hand shades so not so crass,
this burst of gas I hope to pass.
And groan some notes for a while,
refreshing again this steaming pile.
~
Time trickles naturally.
But stand I must eventually.
A gentle pull will clear the residue.
Her memory wiped but some sticks like glue.

~*~
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Nightlife

I woke to a light I hadn’t seen,
in a place I’ve never been.
My head hurt but that’s not all,
who I was I couldn’t recall.
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I lay in a bed but I don’t know whose.
I wiggled my feet and felt no shoes.
I could hear voices behind the door.
It sounded like two, could’ve been more.
~
A lady came in, she helped me sit up.
She gave me some pills in a little cup.
I’ve now sat alone for months on end.
All I could do was read and pretend.
~
My name’s now Bond, I’ve sailed the sea.
Pirate’s no match for a cowboy like me.
I live in a castle that sits on the moon.
I rocket to work then home before noon.
~
My queen awaits in a crown that glows.
We’ve treasure to share wrapped in ribbon and bows.
The unicorn ran off when gently untied.
A possum was sleeping, we thought they died.
~
The band started playing,
the whole world was swaying.
We dined with guest from all over the map.
And with the stars we all took a nap.
~
I woke to birds singing in trees nearby.
The day’s bright, not a cloud in the sky.
Though things are never as they seem,
I just fell asleep but rose to a dream.

~*~
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A Brief History of Dragons

The earth still brewing,
new life was stewing.
Flora askew and fauna still new,
eat or be eaten was all they knew.
~
The ground untested, sulfur’s in the air.
Crazed creatures wandered unaware;
creepy crawly slithery things,
swimmers of seas and fliers with wings.
~
But tucked cozily in palaces of awe,
dragons feasted and pondered what they saw.
Intruders were meals, some thrown back.
And gardening was their tasty snack.
~
Millennia past but for the dragon too soon,
change was afoot with the handy baboon.
Their hordes grew and quickly spread.
The plundering’s swift but never to be fed.
~
The dragon’s numbers always small,
just a few thousand and that is all.
They’re all very patient and very, very smart.
Some of the elders saw this planet’s start.
~
A meeting was had, all without doubt.
The dragons decided to wait this breed out.
They hibernate now till mankind’s last blunder.
When happily woke to darkness and thunder.

~*~
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Up Down Forward

I received a letter on Tuesday, last week.
The handwriting familiar, deserving of a peek,
it was written by me when I am much older.
The language’s strong, I’m certainly much bolder.
~
Curiosity peaked and horror’s at bay.
I couldn’t believe what I had to say.
Mistakes I’ll be making are such a huge sum.
The time I’ll be wasting makes my brain numb.
~
A warning I thought but that didn’t compute.
If anything changed my letter is moot.
It got me so worried I lay awake all night.
Realizing later I did enough things right.

~*~
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We the People

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The Me’s huddled tightly with family alert.
The We’s frolicked freely enjoying dessert.
The Me’s distrustful, their interests first.
The We’s collaborative quenching their thirst.

The Me’s too aligned ruled by a book.
The We’s had comforts the Me’s came and took.
The Me’s dispersed hiding their joy.
The We’s shared all with each girl and boy.

The Me’s sought power devising the divide.
The We’s found solace in a land far and wide.
The Me’s dictate that all is for “Me”
The logic dictates all me’s become we.

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Morning Surprises

Just a few words to start the day,
I started late so I’ve not much to say.
The sun’s rising later and my clock’s askew.
I got up too early but there was nothing to do.
~
So I went back to bed to feel some heat.
I used my cold toes to tickle her feet.
She woke with a shriek from a deep sleep.
She kissed me anyway even though I’m a creep.
~
Our day’s now begun and started with fun.
Although it’s a bit late it’s not yet one.
Now we’ll share our coffee and plan our day.
What happens next I cannot say.

~*~
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Doin’

I feel a storm a brewin’
And thoughts, they are a stewin’
Seems procrastination ain’t so great
Time it seems just won’t wait
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Youthful dreamin’ put on hold
Earnin’s first, I’ve been told
While the future does still beckon
It’s path though I’ve yet to reckon
~
But my guitar needs a playin’
And my hips need a swayin’
My pencil needs more dancin’
And of course there’s more romancin’
~
So much to do, so little time left to waste
Ponderin’s ahead, no need for haste
I am after all a master procrastinator
So I’ll get old, but just a little bit later

~*~
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Me and My Guitar

A rocky road young love traveled,
she hit the brakes and life unraveled.
The music stopped and she left with my car.
The road now waits for me and my guitar.
~
Playing corner gigs for nickels and dimes,
ain’t got much voice but got good rhymes.
For every heart break there’s a song.
Then another and it don’t take long.
~
The sun’s sinking low and hungers on high,
when the loveliest of ladies caught my eye.
With twenty bucks or so in change,
necessity was now in range.
~
The weight of my wealth couldn’t slow me down.
I chased that lady half way cross town.
We shared a laugh and a quick bite.
I asked if I could crash for the night.
~
Her Benz was parked just around the block.
We both jumped in and started to rock.
Till the music stopped and she left with her car.
The road now waits for me and my guitar.

~*~
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Shine On

Back before sneakers where all the craze

Back in my good ole shoe-shinin’ days

Lugged a box that nearly scraped the ground

At six or seven I roamed all over town

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Had a place for quarters one for nickels and dimes

And a pocket for pennies, for change sometimes

So when given a quarter for your ten-cent shines

Make change in pennies, you’ll keep-it most times

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Busy summers at the beach and the bars

I had to be careful because of the cars

I drank lots of soda, learned lots of jokes

Once got caught stealin’ a fresh pack of smokes

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The bartender yelled “I’ll kick your ass”

I ran out of there really fast

I had to be done by the afternoon

Cuz the big kids would be shinin’ there soon

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I charged a dime, the others a quarter

I got the tips and they got the fodder

I once got to shine all afternoon

The big kids had a plan I learned real soon

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They let me shine just to steal my money

They didn’t think my success was funny

I was on my way home when I saw them comin’

They yelled my name and I went runnin’

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With a hand in my pocket to hold up my wealth

Little shiny feet flyin protecting our health

My shine-box banging, bruising knees

So I took a shortcut through the trees

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Then I got grabbed tryin’ to climb a wall

They caught up quick cuz they were tall

I only got hit a couple of times

They left the pennies, took the nickels and dimes

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It was a fight I couldn’t win, but I didn’t lose

Cuz I limped home – quarters in my shoes

 ~

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Adventure Day

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There’ll be no time for play today.

Because today’s adventure day.

We’re off to clean grandma’s shed.

Door so low dad bumps his head.

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Lots of stuff for us to see.

Each thing has its own history.

There’s: rakes, shovels, mowers and pails,

Tires and wheels, old boat sails.

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A big and rusty nut-less bolt

And a shoe for a shoe-less colt,

Sleds and skis, skates, paddles and oars,

Broken windows and old wood doors.

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Crates and bins, barrels and jars,

guitar made from box of cigars,

Dad’s reaching for things up high.

Mom thumbs a scrapbook, tear in eye.

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The treasure’s you find when you look;

cushion for chair and long lost book,

toy box from when dad was a kid

with missing hinge and broken lid.

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I had to put that one aside.

To fill with treasure that I’ll hide.

And keep it safe for mom and dad

with memories, adventures had.

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Sheds empty, our jobs half way.

Sifting and sorting all long day.

Next are lunch and maybe a nap.

Then spend some time on grandma’s lap.

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To the street go things we don’t use;

hand less clock and half pair of shoes.

Forgotten treasures go away.

Some I’ll keep while others will stay.

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It’s grandma’s play house in the shade.

But in the yard five piles we made.

One to save, two we don’t know,

one’s maybe, the small one can go.

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So many things for grandma to do,

when our shed adventure is through .

She can paint pictures or pot plants,

maybe yoga – go in a trance.

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A final sweep and all is clean.

The nicest shed I’ve ever seen.

Now’s time to put back things to keep.

All stacked neat, not too high or deep.

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The dust is gone that made us sneeze.

But no space left for new hobbies.

Dads hurt his back, moms tummy aches.

From our lunch of burgers and shakes.

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But grandma’s happy and me too.

We’re all glad the mission is through.

Our adventure had, job well done.

Memories made of having fun.

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Dad’s old chest safe under my bed.

Memories tucked safe in my head.

And now’s time to say goodnight.

Adventure’s done, out goes the light.

~*~

The End

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Kick Start

Mornings begin in silence.
The sun is yet to rise.
Sitting in the darkness,
I’ve no need for my disguise.
~
The black fades to purple.
The time comes into view.
Will the focus be clear,
or another shade of blue?
~
Light fills my eyes,
night escapes my head.
Thoughts invade my senses,
grays turn into dread.
~
How will I be seen today?
The mirror reflects my fright.
The clock dictates my future.
Doubts cloud my sight.
~
Daring’s at the ready,
necessity turned up high.
The door cautiously opened.
To fear I welcome good-bye.

~*~
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Patchwork

I woke today in a fog.
But autumn’s now in view.
There’ll be more days of sky high temps,
though fortunately just a few.
~
My body’s burned with a patchwork tan,
the grass a patchwork of brown.
Smiles await bluer skies,
but for now I’ve still a frown.
~
Perhaps today I’ll write a poem,
better than those before.
I used to say that every day,
but now I’m not so sure.
~
Like the seasons, time does change,
creativity comes and goes.
Inspiration’s all around,
but negativity grows and grows.
~
I need a cool crisp morning,
with leaf of red and gold.
Though summers can be wonderful,
this one’s getting old.
~
Maybe it’s just a fantasy,
thinking words will find their way.
Maybe the fantasy’s over,
of being joyous every day.
~
Peering up from my lap,
I see the fog starting to clear.
Though my paper is still blank,
I know a story’s near.
~
My eyes now wide open,
my pencil’s sharp and new.
Optimistically I scribble a word,
the clouds now but few.
~
One word turns to another,
a third leads to a line.
Verses soon will follow,
and again the day is mine.
~
I’m glad this patchwork is over.
And I’m sure that you are too.
I’m thankful for your time today,
my inspiration being you.

~*~
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Patience, Persistence and Perspiration

How many colors have you seen?
How many shades in between?
How many seconds till the day is through?
How many more before the day is new?
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How many questions must I ask?
How many answers to complete the task?
How many times can I persist?
How many times can I resist?
~
How many redundancies before I’m done.
How many more was it than one?
How many poems must I write?
How many days will I see night?

~*~
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Spirited

My poor guitar’s in need of strumming.
My morning poem’s not forthcoming.
Seems a house weighs on my brain.
Some might say that I’m insane.
~
But in the hills where trees abound,
behind a stone wall my paradise found.
A storied life I’m sure it’s had.
The next chapter’s mine and I’m glad.
~
Its life began in seventeen twenty.
Surely there are creaks and drafts aplenty.
It’s quite unusual, just one of a few.
It’s also quite large, it’s almost two.
~
Are there spirits? I don’t know.
But if there are I’m sure they’ll show.
And if there’s not that’s OK.
Maybe I’ll be one someday.

~*~
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Bells Taking Their Toll

A day without time and no place to be.
I’ll rise with sun and bathe in the sea.
I’ll watch the grass grow and clouds float by.
I’ll live off the land and breathe in the sky.
~
A day without time sounds great to me.
I’ll live out my life being happy and free.
There will be no pain or any reason to cry.
There’s no compilation or a reason to lie.
~
A day without time is a day full of glee.
There are starlit nights and nothing to flee.
A day without time, I’d sure love to try.
But then the alarm that needs my reply.

~*~
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Urban Lumberjack

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Out sawing logs most proficiently

Till buzzing sounds cut through me

Awakened to a new sunrise

And looming towers in the skies

Guzzled whole bean, huge and black

Sugar stash stole from old knapsack

I grab my Axe then splash my face

Yesterday’s chips bear no trace

Beard’s quaffed perfectly shabby

Pressed flannel plaid looking flabby

Jeans donned with six inch cuff

Pipe’s lit for morning’s puff

In vintage boots scuffed, untied

A new day’s afoot heading outside

A bright spot picked, time to strike

Never as close as I would like

Pickup’s placed alarmed and ready

Loving years rolling steady

Traversing back the jiggles and jogs

Returning home to saw more logs

There distant dogs I hear barking

While alternate side of the street parking

~*~

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Noisy Finish

Word’s a mere generic symbology,
a blip in time of human technology.
Millennia unfolds, meaning’s to learn.
Linguistically labored is the futures concern.

Truth is felt, lies always lurking.
Voices still spirits working.
Sensation’s sensed and souls embrace.
Or silence awaits this human race.

~*~
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Seems to Need

I need a bigger clock,
my watch seems to lie.
The spaces are too small,
and the hands seem to fly.
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I need to see where time goes.
I can’t believe it’s me.
I only scroll a little.
And only when time’s free.
~
But that little watch keeps lying.
It tells me hours have flown past.
The stupid phone agrees.
I think the problems vast.
~
It must be a conspiracy,
drawing people to their laps.
Our future’s passing by,
and we’re now hunched like saps.
~
I’m going to go cold turkey.
When I’m done, we’ll share a toast.
But that I’ll start tomorrow.
Today I need to post.

~*~
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Black and White

Mornings give light.
Emotion fills night.
Eyes force sight.
Legs flee plight.
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Opinions oft slight.
Truth’s never quite.
Souls know right.
Minds will fight.
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Hearts feel blight.
Tomorrows bring fright.
Yesterday lends insight.
Fortitude means might.
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Sparks do ignite.
Love shines bright.
Hands do write.
Life’s to delight.

~*~
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All Ends Dwell

I’m sorry I have no poem today.
I’ve actually started two.
But I have no endings.
So I’ve nothing to share with you.
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Fortunately there are tomorrows.
Perhaps I’ll end them then.
Or maybe this is a metaphor;
for the fickleness of the pen.
~
Many things get started.
Only some will see an end.
But until there’s a conclusion,
a finish, we can pretend.
~
So I’ll pretend my poems are great.
They start off really well.
And I’ll imagine it’s a perfect day.
For the unknown we shouldn’t dwell.

~*~
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