Inspiration

Well, Almost

We live on a sphere, well almost,
surrounded by air, they the host.
Warmed by a star, pulled by a moon.
We’ve day and night, both come too soon.
~
We’ve loads of life but most unseen,
covered in rock, water and green.
There’s lots of smells, feelings and sounds.
We’ve love and laughter, yet danger surrounds.
~
Failures abound, they’re always free.
We’re fully exposed to freely see.
We can be tasteful, and risk being eaten.
We can be colorful but risk a bad beaten.
~
Lie, cheat and steal and then freely boast.
We’ve the freedom to choose, well almost.
We’ve still time to finish what we start.
Well, almost there; war or art?
~*~
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Summer’s Last

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Intrepid petunia, November gray,

a ray of life on an autumn day.

Standing lonely in a planter on a porch,

the season of gold’s solemn torch.

On a canvas of gray grows a shadow of white,

sunbeams focus ‘til called by night.

Her lasting beauty our sun is drawn,

through lonely nights to kiss at dawn.

Soon to be tucked in bed of snow,

a winter slumber awaiting springs glow

*

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Picture’s Read

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Life creates the lines we wear.
They’re traced upon the face we share.
Smiles turned up spread everyday joy.
Pouty faces think heart’s a toy.
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Lips arced down build no bridges.
Crinkled brows scaled ridges.
Eyes bright glow through the night,
eyes down dwelt shade their light.
~
Enthusiasm shines with a spark.
Heartache shines in the dark.
Time wrinkles the more we press.
Smooth is felt, not a guess.
~
Directions clear when maps unfold.
Routes we’ve drawn, our story told.
Hellos leave more to see.
Loves image is good bye free.
~
I wish for the lines of long ago.
I wish to watch that of another grow.
A fateful glance we’re sure to know,
little things make the big picture show.

~*~
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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.
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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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Seasons

Spring

Life blossoms shedding care

Day’s grow longer, nights dear

Not too hot, not too cold

Perfect time, young or old

Summer

Always warm, always fun

Life outside in the sun

Day’s long, grass grows tall

Night’s breeze welcome by all

Autumn

Full of color, golden bed

On the ground, leaves shed

Getting shorter, day’s fair

Night’s crisp, chill in the air

Winter

World of white, weather bold

Day’s short, nights long and cold

Holidays, many friends

Bittersweet when it ends

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Electrons float in endless flight.
Space’s gray, no day or night.
Infinity lurks out of sight.
.
Elements blend or violently clash.
Random moment’s atoms smash.
Fusion bonds fission’s ash.
.
Core pulls, heat spurred.
Nucleus form, orbits dared.
Love holds a time shared.

~*~
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But Seriously

She fills me up with all things good.
I eat and drink as I should.
Her loving nature knows no bounds.
Sometimes we kiss to giggling sounds.
~
She feeds us well and treats me right.
Her love’s returned each day and night.
We doze embraced and wake the same.
When disturbed the cat’s to blame.
~
She fuels my fire and quenches desire.
Her talents awe and inspire.
Fun is had every moment we share.
But a love more serious is beyond compare.

~*~
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Morning Triku #179 ~ Love, Time and Little Things

Possibly

With love all things are
possible, without, all things
are merely more things.
~

Irony

Ironically,
the most valuable time
is free time spent well.
~

Little Things

Transportation is
moving things. Transition is
the movement of minds.

~*~
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Shared Beauty

Baby blue and pink,
the colors of our birth.
Beauty shared at sunset,
all around this earth.
~
As these colors fade,
stars soon will shine.
Beauty, too, can change,
when our views align.
~
Though our views may vary,
our vision’s all the same.
Raise our children to be free,
to live their lives peacefully.

~*~
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Startin’

Oh, what to do, oh what to do?
My day is free, and the sky is blue.
There’s chores to do, my list is long.
My old guitar needs a new song.
~
I’ve coffee for sippin’, a chair for sittin’,
and that morning sun’s warmin’ my heart.
The birds are singin’ and peace it’s bringin’,
so far, a mesmerizin’ start.

~*~
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Back and Forth

The pros and cons of death
are the ins and outs of breath.
The ups and downs of life
are the this and that’s of strife.

Forward or back, taut or slack,
fast or slow it’s the average we know
Top or bottom leaves in between.
Front and back the rest’s unseen.

Heads or tails the inner hides.
No coin has only just two sides.
Life is choices, more than two.
There’s more to it than me and you.

Books may contain all that’s known.
Everything else we’re on our own.
Soft or hard a landing’s assured.
Highs and lows are endured.

While ponderings spiral unabated,
decision’s made as we waited.
Time’s endless, though ours is not.
Hit or miss, it’s worth a shot.

~*~
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Glorious Glistening Goodness

The sun has risen on a beautiful day.
Why it will be I cannot say?
But I woke at dawn and I feel great.
My house is warm and troubles can wait.
~
The coffee is hot and the music’s down low.
I won’t ponder how the future might go.
For now, all’s good, no problems in sight.
This day is bright and I see the light.

~*~
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Skipper’s Lane

Around the bend from the church on main,
lies a quaint little street, called Skipper’s Lane.
T’was on this path a young lad dwelled,
before the streets’ name or the lad propelled.
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The tale goes: At the head of a cove the sandbar’s long.
The water’s choppy and the currents strong.
A young lad fished, he netted all day.
At sunset he rowed to the town up the bay.
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He traded his catch for supplies and some cash.
He then rowed back home and buried his stash.
Years soon passed and the lad’s now a man.
The time was now to dig up an old can.
~
The cans held his savings, he’s more than a few.
The man, now called Netty, had something to do.
Netty rowed into town, to buy but not sell.
He bought a new boat with a bright shiny bell.
~
He towed the boat home not knowing how to sail.
A year’s practice behind then caught in a gale.
Netty stayed calm, his life, spent afloat.
Home was in sight when he saw a tossed boat.
~
The boat missed the inlet, now blowing out to sea.
Though Netty unsure, he could not leave them be.
Adjusting his sails Netty raced to give aid.
Soaked and battered he would not be afraid.
~
Lost memories filled young Netty’s head.
Recalling the night, he was almost dead.
The sky was black and the water cold.
The ship sat heavy, filled with gold.
~
Remembering screams and cracking wood,
the ship’s bell rang, gone childhood.
The boy hit the water and woke on the shore.
The life he once knew was no more.
~
A crashing wave broke Netty’s trance,
one second more he’d lose his chance.
He leaned on his tiller to bring his boat near.
The boats colliding mustered everyone’s fear.
~
Netty thought quickly and dropped his sheet,
then heaved his net around a cleat.
He pulled and pulled with all his might.
His biggest catch was that stormy night.
~
All returned safely before the sun rose.
Netty now a hero was gifted new clothes.
New friends were made, now one’s Netty’s wife.
Recounting his memories he bought a new life.
~
The gold recovered, Netty bought lots of land.
He built a grand home well away from the sand.
The harbor in view he watches over his fleet.
The town, now prosperous, gave Netty a street.

~*~
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Giggles and Tears of Joy

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I see your inner child; fragile and pure.
I’m the little smitten boy that rolls on your floor.
I give you dandelions every day in the Spring.
Summers had without a care on your backyard swing.

We blow bubbles and dance in tall wet grass.
School years of bliss blossom, too soon to pass.
Stealing first kisses, to the prom, home on-time.
Off to college enriching our minds, soon to be sublime.

We travel the world and fall in love anew.
We eclipse eternity; hand in hand, me and you.

~*~

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Contrasts

I need a new color or maybe a sound.
I need something to get my head off the ground.
High in the clouds is where I should be.
Soaring with eagles; majestic and free.
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Exploring a world where peace is the norm.
A place where everyone survives the storm.
A place where kids all laugh and parents sing.
Where old folks still giggle on the backyard swing.
~
We’ve no need for bombs, guns or war.
We’ll all have love, can’t hurt, can cure.
Oh, What a place this world could be.
If only that eagle, were you and me.

~*~
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Morning Triku #166 ~ We Are

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Grays are Lies

To write with the dawn,
sky’s to rise to brilliant eyes.
To her I am drawn.

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Tests Are

Sunday mornings are:
times of quiet and peaceful rest,
shared zest, feeling best.

~
We Are We

We are as we are.
We’re at the place that we are.
We choose who we are.

~*~
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