writing

A Little Proof

The forest is gone where once a home.
A people lost, now destined to roam.
Legends of old speak of their race,
though only of blurs, never a face.
~
Smaller than dwarves, bigger than fairies,
their language mistaken for frantic canaries,
they’re easily missed being so small.
A full grown adult’s barely twelve inches tall.
~
Their numbers blossomed to one hundred per tree.
Nature, their home, they could be no more free.
They chose to stay hidden, out of harm’s way.
The choice wasn’t theirs, they learned the hard way.
~
The giants invaded with axes in hand.
They chopped and cut for towns they had planned.
Centuries have passed and the invasion persists.
The Liluns survived but only few still exist.
~
They still choose to hide and that’s probably good.
As the giants don’t always do as they should.
Their wishes fulfilled at whatever the cost.
This story’s the proof of the many who’ve lost.

~*~
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A Day on the Farm

The sun’s our clock, rooster alarm.

Up to start a day on the farm.

Fresh air and sunshine all long day.

Eat our breakfast then on our way.

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I put on my boots, coat and hat.

And find a glove under the cat.

Out the door to the bunnies hutch.

They eat  pellets they don’t like much.

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My dog follows, opens the door.

Sometimes gone for hours or more.

Jumping high, trips latch with paw.

The cutest thing I ever saw.

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Next we’re off to feed the plump hens.

Gather eggs, clean muddy pig pens.

We’ll hose it down then slop the sows.

Grab our pails and milk the cows.

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Feed the mare, sleeps in the sable.

I’ll ride her soon when I’m able.

First she’s brushed then gets oats and hay.

We do all these things twice a day

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In the garden, vegetables grow.

Sprout from seeds we plant in a row.

Water well, pluck weeds in between.

Shoe away pests when they’re seen.

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When all the digging and feeding’s through.

There’s still more on a farm to do.

Pick fresh fruit for mom’s best jelly.

Yummy sweet, wiggles in my belly.

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Orange balloons float above ground.

Pumpkin pies shared all around.

Our beans are red and peas are green.

The tastiest rainbows ever seen.

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Life on the farm is so much fun.

Little to do when work is done.

Get up early, busy all day.

We eat our supper then hit the hay.

*

The End

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The Fragrance of Fickle Follies

Where jester’s king and knights a daze,
sunsets fade to a mushroom haze.
In castles walled the future’s stalled,
the heat of the moment is to forever scald.
~
When dollars found is sense lost,
we’re all to share the eventual cost.
For horizons lured never reached,
minds obstructed always breached.
~
Yet an open mind like and open gate,
frees the fears, ignorance and hate.
And whilst moats are filled from the waste within,
their funny stench is where their ends begin.

~*~
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Simply Grand

One thousand kisses each morning,
a thousand more every night,
ten thousand more in between,
fulfill our days delight.
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One thousand thoughts about her,
a thousand dreams I’ve known,
ten thousand days or more,
we’ll never be alone.
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“I love you” a thousand times spoken,
thousands more I’ve heard,
infinity is our goal,
any less is simply absurd.

~*~
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Complete

The sun yet risen, the sky yet blue.
Yet my day grows brighter in my view.
A dream begins when I open my eyes.
The truth is seen as she lies.
~
Truth is felt with a gentle kiss.
She pulls me closer to share the bliss.
I feel her breath, our heartbeats in sync.
Our body’s one, none to think.
~
But if thoughts be had none compare.
A fantasy found, in love we stare.
Temperatures rise in the new dawns glow.
Our senses awaken, whispers flow.
~
Visions guide our pleasures sought.
Tomorrow’s now, time has taught.
Our love given is love received.
And another day we’ve achieved.

~*~
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Penning Passions

Another love poem that’s just for you.
It’s another love poem cos it’s what I do.
Though these poems are special in every way,
they’re inspired by our love each and every day.
~
I write each one from deep in my heart.
And each second with you is another’s start.
The passion spills with each word I write.
The passion inspired each and every night.
~
The sun will rise on a good day, for sure.
I’ll wake with zeal to pen you ever more.
You’ll wake to a kiss and my morning creation.
We’ll snuggle close feeling ever more inspiration.

~*~
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Egg Waits

Awaiting a shells fateful date,
eggs alone beat in wait.
When a pair scrambles to meet,
futures fertile swim to greet.
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Pairs joined to each a share,
new is made over easy with care.
Hatched a recipe for pure delight,
sliding from heat, home plate’s in sight.
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Yet time fragile, forking’s no joke,
bad luck befallen bound by yoke.
Getting fried never rehearsed.
And the wait answers which came first.

~*~
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Morning Triku #170 ~ Straightish Forward

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~*~
Of Interest to All

The value of life
is not what’s made of given.
But time spent liven.
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The Bind

If love was defined
and the worlds’ hopes undenied
the poet side lined.
~

Go!

Destinations drive.
Life’s intersections give route.
All roads lead somewhere.

~*~
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Relies

There’s a quiet in the darkness,
our sun yet to rise.
Beauty’s still in hiding,
only truth’s before our eyes.
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Soon the dawn will beckon,
shedding the world’s disguise.
Silence then a memory,
light exposing the lies.
~
The world now filled with sunshine,
always a pleasant surprise.
Then we wait for the sunset,
again to feel we’re wise.
~
By day we have distraction,
evenings we revise.
Sleep brings us solace,
giving strength to ask the whys.
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Questions fill our heads,
life’s answers we surmise.
Half asleep or awake,
tomorrow is our prize.

~*~
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Breathless

breathless

Summer’s last breathe breathes the chill of fall.
I wait to answer while I wait to call.
Do we both anxiously check our phone?
Who’ll call first, who’s alone.
~
Does she weep, does she wonder?
Does she care or does she wander?
What is she thinking? I’d love to know.
A mere breathe and my breeze will blow.
~
And the waves of emotion may roll or crash,
castles of sand always gone with a splash.
Beach balls aloft have destinations to guess.
And I left to fill another, till breathless.

~*~
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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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Fickle Things

Most can speak yet few can sing, 
because fate can be a fickle thing.
But if by chance or if it by fate, 
results will come and will not wait.
~*~
We all get sick though not our yearning.
Some get battered by never learning.
Most get better most get well, 
for some it lingers, feeling like hell.
~*~
Whilst a moderate wind sets a boat’s pace, 
a mighty gale will end their race.
And the autumn breeze’s enjoyed by all.
But pray for calm to end our fall.

~*~
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Hot and Cold Memories

We all walked to school without a care.
We stopped at the store with pennies to share.
Cats and dogs always ran free.
Trees were claimed by them and me.
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We rode our bikes like we were all nuts.
Our hands and knees came home with cuts.
Bikes had brakes most of the time,
or slowed by sneakers covered in grime.
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Any spot with grass was called a yard.
We swam in places with no lifeguard.
Snowballs were made no matter the cost.
We wore socks on our hands when gloves were lost.
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We all had to fight every once in a while.
Our moms would yell but dads would smile.
Rooms were shared and sometimes beds,
smelly feet tickling their brother’s heads.
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Then junior high came and we had to change.
Our hair grew long and our clothes got strange.
Many smoked cigarettes and other stuff.
There were lots of choices but enough was enough.
~
Childhood then ended and the troubles began.
When the problems started most of us ran.
Some now have passed; some did well,
but all fondly remembered though it was hell.

~*~
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A Slap in the Hindsight

When I was just a small boy,
perhaps seven or eight,
I didn’t want to go to bed;
I wanted to stay up late.
~
But when I’d sneak back downstairs,
for some TV and a snack,
my mom would be there waiting.
And boy I’d get a smack.
~
That seems so long ago now,
and my how things progressed.
Slaps have been reconsidered,
now more creatively addressed.
~
The mischief too has waned,
but I still stay up too late.
The TV no longer excites me,
but man the snacks are great.
~
It’s funny what’s remembered,
and how it shapes our thought.
I’ve learned many lessons well;
now glad to be often caught.
~
My mom now long since passed,
her sacrifices never ignored.
I really was a bratty kid,
but at least mom was never bored.

~*~
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Past Tense

Imagine adventure, step back in time.
Halls with doors, surprises mine.
Ghostly greetings with every blink,
the past behind we’re led to think.
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Spirits pass spirits on.
Spirit’s off spirit’s gone.
Souls see the soul-less be.
Soul’s sense, soul’s free.
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Minds absorb, till out of time.
Tour’s done, step back in line.
Entry’s open, time to depart.
Life awaits, make the start.

~*~
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New Beginnings and Finished Ends

Today’s a new day, today’s a new start.
When feeling creative everything’s art.
Today’s the day I’ll get back on track.
Yesterday’s gone and now I’m back.
~
I wasn’t blue and that’s always good,
cos when I am I write more than I should.
I wasn’t too busy, I can always make time.
It wasn’t mechanics, I can always rhyme.
~
I’ve got some ideas but scattered are they.
I’ve got lots of words but little to say.
But today’s a new day, then’s now the past.
So write I must, cos today’s ending fast.

~*~
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Pro-Procrastination

The house is quiet and the pets at ease.
The yard awaits, says “mow me please”.
But I’ve things to think and words to rhyme,
because love comes first all of the time.
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The grass can wait and those dishes too.
There’s much to do and hours so few.
So busy I’ll be in La-La land,
love in my heart and pencil in hand.
~
I’ll pen her poetry of love, joy and bliss,
recalling how quick was our one millionth kiss.
I’ll wax poetic and melt in her arms,
though her hotness not needed, just her charms.
~
I’ll say “I love you” in every possible way.
And I’ll say it often every single day,
but words meaningless when actions speak.
So I’ll finish this poem and start my week.

~*~
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Manifestication

I sit and wait for words to flow.
Where they’ll take me I never know.
I’ve danced with stars and commanded the sea.
I’ve chatted with wizards that look just like me.
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My hand’s my wand to wave to and fro.
My mind’s the place we always go.
My eyes have absorbed many a sight.
My ears heard thunder and “I love you, goodnight”.
~
My life’s been shaped by uncertainty,
striving always to be not me.
Seconds have crept and years have flown.
I’ve learned some things best unknown.
~
Yet time is for shaping, both future and past.
The now unmoldable, it happens to fast.
Love has been felt, now again every day.
On carpets we ride and on clouds we lay.
~
Age has taught me many new things;
the less one cries the more one sings.
The more one loves the less there’s hate.
And the more one laughs the happier the mate.

~*~
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Precious Mettle

Off to the mailbox for my monthly check,
when a crashing blow hit my neck.
I woke in a cell filled with other old guys.
We all laughed to find we’re all old spies.
~
An enemy hacked us and addresses found,
We were all then hostages held underground.
Our brains to be picked for treasure long lost,
the knowledge valuable as noted by their cost.
~
Across the hall were ladies we knew,
agents we recognized, but for a few.
A plan was hatched, arthritis be damned!
When a guard comes by they’ll be slammed.
~
We then waited and rested no need to hurry.
Naps are good and we’ve no need to worry.
The ladies then flirted with mature confidence.
The guard withered by worldly effervescence.
~
The code culled we shuffled to get free,
arm in arm in groups of three.
Footsteps heard then alarm bells rang.
Adrenaline soared and up we sprang.
~
Youth’s no match for the well-seasoned mind.
We hid in the shadows for them to find.
One by one the threats were gone.
And soon I’d be home to cut my lawn.
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The weeds a bugger and leaves make a mess.
The grandkids expected, sorry to digress.
Now back to the story, before I forget.
We found the exit but the passage was wet.
~
Those rascals in charge too had a plan.
They’d drown us all like the cruelest hit man.
But optimists they are thinking they’d win.
As experts we’re all with the simple hairpin.
~
The water knee high and their lock we’d picked.
And soon they’d see who’d be tricked.
Gray, white and bald we glistened in the sun.
We strode out together, too old to run.
~
The culprits scrambled but soon were caught.
The lesson learned is time has taught.
And sometime silver is better than gold,
a precious reward growing old.

~*~
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Electrifying

I’ve got nine lives or just wasn’t ready.
I was closing a window, the rain was steady.
Then a big boom and a flash of white light,
I was struck by lightning last Friday night.
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My lights went out but my heart didn’t quit.
The tree nearby suffered the hit.
I owe my life to my old friend.
I survived but it may be their end.
~
It’s bark blew off in a long straight line.
My hand was tingling but I won’t whine.
I turned ghostly white, let out a scream.
My life now charged and I’m living a dream.

~*~
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