little things

Waiting Season

In like a lion and out a lamb,
Spring is needed; February can scram.
March isn’t great but it could be worse,
at least it’s the end of our winter’s curse.
~
April’s deceiving, warmth we presume.
May is delightful, life is in bloom.
June is my favorite, the days extra-long.
July is summer with nights full of song.
~
August is hot and September’s up for debate.
October’s chilly but the colors are great.
November and December are both full of cheer.
Then I wait for the lamb to start my new year.

~*~
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don’t read this

Nearing the pit of the pendulums’ path

Forces of nature care not of their wrath

The weight of the world pivots within

Knows not when to stop or where to begin

~

The highs never reaching a stable peak

These highs too high to which I seek

Delves of darkness seem never to end

Rises resisted rapidly descend

~

Familiar patterns now drawn in time

Thus manifested in delusional rhyme

With feathered hand to soar and blind

To my ravenous return in stillness of mind

~*~

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Must Be Love Haikus

It must be love when

passions can’t be expressed in

haiku’s of amore

~

It must be love when

our hearts beat faster by a

footstep at the door

~

It must be love when

broken hearts are aching yet

we love all the more

~

It must be love when

burning hearts blaze hotter than

science can measure

~

It must be love when

our hearts are left shattered yet

chests still hold treasure

~

It must be love when

all life appears inspired

and our hearts feel pure

`

It must be love when

only a greater failure

seems to reassure

`

It must be love when

our hurting hearts are healed with

love – the only cure

~

It must be love when

hearts and minds know not, but it

Must Be Love – for sure

`

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Soft and Hard

Valentine’s day is tomorrow, what am I to do?
Candy’s getting old and it’s to cold for the zoo.
Flowers too soon wilt and never will surprise.
Dinner’s always nice, but no burger, shake and fries.
~
Jewelry’s too expensive and ends up in a drawer.
Lingerie’s always fun when it ends up on the floor.
Romance will be expected, so don’t forget the card.
Valentine’s day is tomorrow, it shouldn’t be so hard.

~*~
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Becoming Becoming

Valentine’s Day is coming,
it’s time to make a plan.
Get those wheels turning,
show her you’re her man.
~
Perhaps a romantic dinner,
the dishes then are done.
Then take her dancing,
you’re sure to have some fun.
~
Don’t forget the flowers,
some candy and a card.
Leave yourself a note,
it shouldn’t be that hard.
~
Treat her extra special,
stare into her eyes.
Tell her you’re the luckiest,
and she’s the grand prize.
~
Tell her that you love her,
show her in every way.
Make her your Valentines,
each and every day!

~*~
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Too Cold To Go Outside

I woke today – weatherman lied.

I rolled over and I sighed.

Couldn’t sleep, eyes open wide.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

There’ll be no swing set or slide.

There’ll be no walk or bike ride.

There’ll be no kites to be flied.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

Today we have to play inside.

We’ll think of things never tried.

Stocking feet on floors we’ll glide.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

We’ll build a fort for us to hide.

We’ll play dress up – you be bride.

Explore jungles – I’ll be guide.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

Time to dig a path that’s wide.

Getting dressed, boot laces tied.

Wind so stingy I almost cried.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

All’s warm, coats hung to be dried.

Find crayons, colors I’ve eyed.

Draw pictures for the fridge with pride.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

Icy world all is gray sky-ed.

Plants droopy, looks like they died.

Bay frozen we’ll see no tide.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

Now sleep, teddies at my side.

Cold nights end, take it in stride.

Spring soon then winter we’ll chide.

When not too cold to go outside.

~*~

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Uncommon Sense

Punch the clock, kiss time away

Let’s all have a common sensical day

We’ll strive to attain the white picket fence

From this thing called common sense

 ~

Though no more than society’s rigidity

Saying that everyone had better agree

And if you don’t than you must be lacking

But hey – screw them! You don’t need their backing

 ~

Give it your all, do your best then see who’s slacking

Now get off the fence it’s time to get cracking

And when someone says you lack common sense

Say thanks, I’d rather be uncommon than dense

 ~

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Morning Triku #69

Rings True

.

Mutually daring

Quintessentially caring

Lovingly sharing

~

.

Howling

.

Up before sunrise

Down by noon, dreading blue skies

Awaiting the moon

~

.

Dimensionally Stable

.

Having thought outside

The box for so long, I’ve now

Become Tripolar

~*~

.

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Morning Triku #63

Too Little Rhyme ~

Life is Poetry

Some is good and some is bad

Most we’ll never see

*

Forever’s Never Last ~

Our writing is the

Exercise that forces us

To live fitfully

*

Con-Tent ~

Home’s where our stuff’s stored

A store is where our stuff’s bought

Bought’s where our heart’s sold

~*~

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Middling Thoughts

I’m too old to paint in tempera, takes too long to dry.

I’m too young to sculpt a headstone, since I won’t soon die.

I’m too old to swim the channel, don’t like being cold and wet.

I’m too young to drown in sorrow with so little to regret.

I’m too old to chase maidens through spring fields anew.

Though now the times just right to share all I have with you.

~

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Almost Optimism

Here’s just another long ass poem,
where pencils wander and minds roam
Wrongly writing a writers spoof,
pretending to act ambivalent and aloof.

Scribbles scribed with thoughts adrift,
begrudging the irony of a weighty gift
A gift when open can amaze and surprise,
when amiss all’s left to despise

Ego and insecurity blend on the page.
The shadows measure, shades gage.
Jumbled words of love, sorrow and joy,
of friendships made or to destroy

Dreams dreamt with eyes shut tight,
while dreams are had in the light.
Time in reflection thoughts bounce then fade.
Intensity’s the source of all that’s made.

Whether hobby, craft, art or obsession,
or a statistically nil reliable profession.
There’s no substitution as far as I can tell,
There’s no on or off switch, no warning bell.

With a drizzle of drudgery and a smatter of haste,
the ink dries anyway, useful or a waste.
When the wining, waling and whimpers wane,
recall and record so something’s to gain.

Just the right words are all that’s required.
Write day and night and be always tired.
And this; not a sonnet or magnificent tome,
but at least it’s another long ass poem.

~*~

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Morning Triku II

My Love

A look, touch – A kiss

Hands, bodies – Tactile bliss

Love – Nothing’s amiss

 ~

My Friend

Heart strings stroked feel heat

Neck caressed long and sweet

Rhythm head to feet

 ~

Begin’d

How humans learned

They died for knowledge yearned

Trial and error’d

 

~*~

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Be the Wind

The will of the wind with the air that be,

summons the roar from a silent sea.

When this air too shall roar,

a mighty sea bombards a shore

~

When the wind and sea collude-

all’s consumed all the more.

Can a roaring wind be silenced-

 or will it roar for evermore?

~

A question answered best in rhyme;

The shores are life, the sea is time.

The air is those around us, crying to be free.

And the wind with its will – a roaring poet be.

*

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Unwritten Sonnet

Thoughts of love, humming notes to an unknown song,

I’ve tried to write it down but the words all came out wrong.

It seems when I think of you all other thoughts go astray.

Emotions and desires jumbled, I can find no words to say.

.

I’ve tried a million times and I’ll try again today,

though time spent together always the better way.

Now pen’s in hand, mindful bliss my heart begins to race,

visions of my fantasy; beauty, elegance and grace.

.

Reminiscent of cascading falls in the jungles of Belize,

the splash of your wavy hair flowing in a summer breeze.

Where rising suns cannot compare to the glow upon your face,

I’m warmed to my very core; the cold has left no trace.

.

With eyes as deep and all-consuming as is the vast Pacific,

their depths so never-ending I can find no phrase specific.

Your subtle lips glistening, a silent language spoken,

still or parted, my semaphore, together I wish unbroken.

.

A brilliance of mind and sharpened wit, a formula to confound

Whilst pure of heart with soulful passions amaze and astound

And when I rest my head to sleep and your image begins to blur,

I envision a ballerina floating through the moonlit air.

.

Touching down on slippered feet, the foundation of my life,

where I’ll dream again of a poem unwritten – for a lovely wife.

~

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First Snow

The first snow of the year
fell while we all slept.
We woke to a world of white;
all’s eerily wind-swept.
~
The outside’s frigid cold,
no need to go out yet.
This storm will last all day,
there’s plenty of time to fret.
~
The sidewalk must be shoveled
and the driveway too.
The steps will need some salt
to track in on my shoe.
~
My cats will be upset;
they’re not going out today.
I’ll give them a little catnip;
I wish I too could play.
~
But soon this day will end
and a fire I’ll then light.
I’ll snuggle with my sweetheart,
cozy through the night.
~
The first snow’s always fun,
a feast for seasoned eyes.
But after that we wait for spring
and warm, clear blue skies.

~*~
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