motivation

Morning Triku VII

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Morning

Woke today – all’s gray

Sunshine bright  next to me lay

Gray has gone away

~

Children

Children born – then grow

For parents fast – children slow

Clocks tick – parents know

~

Chains

Chains that bond or bind

Two links needed for a bond

Only us to bind

~

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Day ?

Oh no it’s Saturday!

My vacation’s nearly done.

I mostly sat around.

But I had a little fun.

~

Bird sat a parrot,

a story previously told.

Also saw my Ena, 

who’s nearly two years old.

~

We got a lot of rain.

So I didn’t cut the grass.

I didn’t trim the bushes,

I gave myself a pass.

~

I didn’t do much writing, 

but forced a little bit.

I called it all a journal, 

thought surely not a hit.

~

Back to work on monday.

I really can’t complain.

If I had more time, 

I’d probably go insane.

~*~

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Hats Off to Summer

On this morning’s walk

while enjoying the breeze

I passed by a garden

and started to sneeze

~

I think my thinking cap

Must have blown away

I’ve searched frantically

all morning and day

~

Without my cap

my thought’s gone astray

The pretty blue sky

has now turned to gray

~

I tried an umbrella

that didn’t work

I wore a helmet

but felt like a jerk

~

Without my cap

my writing will end

I guess today

I’ll have to pretend

~*~

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Swap Meet

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*

We’re off to the swap meet today.

Dad says its work, I say its play.

Mom thinks it’s all a bunch of junk.

Who needs an old cast iron skunk?

~

Every year since I was two.

Seen the toes of many a shoe.

In my wagon with squeaky wheel,

once pulled string from an old fly reel.

~

Saw a ship of wood, bone and hair.

Dad got nervous, said don’t go there!

Great memories of dad and me.

I wish that mom would come and see.

~

Up before dawn, first at the gate.

If you’re not first, well than you’re late.

I think that second’s also OK.

Don’t follow, go the other way.

~

A laugh a push a yawn and sneeze.

New spring pollen made someone wheeze.

We’re squashed on the fence right up front.

Soon we’ll start a new treasure hunt.

~

The gate opens, I think we won.

I don’t care; I’m here to have fun.

We see faces we’ve seen before.

But the new ones are a lot more.

~

Soon the sun will rise in the sky.

Down the rows with treasures stacked high.

A day of fun, ready to learn,

Something new at every turn.

~

We pass the women in her shawl.

Sits alone, sells nothing at all.

Walking past, I’d wave and say hi.

But never did I catch her eye.

~

But now I’m ten, no chaperon.

Maybe she smiled because I’m grown.

She waved me over to come right in.

Glad to see her never seen grin.

~

I gazed into lots of old stuff,

even the best looked kind of rough.

She told me stories of each thing,

corner chair and ancient nose ring.

~

“I never sell my things of old.

They can’t be enjoyed when they’re sold,

loan things to friends once in a while,

like you” she said with a big smile.

~

“I’ve watched you pass since you were small.

On your dads’ shoulders, eight feet tall.

I’ve seen you smile and watched you grow.

Each time passing you’d say hello.

~

Walking past, eyes open wide.

You never dared to come inside.

Talking to strangers is unwise.

If I scare you, I apologize.”

~

She gave me a book that’s quite small,

not too many pages at all.

The book kept dreams lost in your head,

while you were sleeping in your bed.

~

She opened the book to page three.

Then whispered some secrets to me.

“Dreams are wishes stuck in your head.

They only come out when in bed.

~

Sleeping soundly, eyes shut tight,

mind wondering all through the night.

When you wake to start a new day,

write down those dreams before you play.

~

Follow your heart wherever it goes.

Record your trip in lovely prose.

Don’t stop writing until you’re done.

It’s never work when it’s all fun.

~

First open the book carefully.

Than close your eyes and wait to see,

all your dreams will come back to you.

But it might take a week or two.

~

Just be patient, don’t ever fret.

All things good you never forget.

I need not tell you anymore,

complete instructions on page four.”

~

She found a box, it fit just right.

I couldn’t wait to sleep that night.

Tied it up with ribbon and bow.

She gave me hug, told me to go.

~

It’s been a long winter since then.

Yes I’ve used up many a pen.

I wake each morning at sunrise.

Wipe the night’s sleepys from my eyes

~

Mom saw me writing early one day.

She asked to see, what could I say?

Together we both read out loud.

We laughed and hugged, she said she’s proud.

~

Now up after dawn, we’re not late.

Family’s first, treasure can wait.

Another year, there’s much to see,

at the swap meet; mom dad and me.

~

I hope to see my new old friend,

I’ll share my news with happy end.

I tried hard and my wish came true.

Now mom comes to the swap meet too!

*

The End

~

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Built To Last

Let’s all build a castle with some turrets and a moat.
Perhaps on an island reached only in a boat.
Built with our experience, we’re heavily fortified.
Nirvana lies within, unseen from the outside.
~
Visitors are always welcome. But your journey will be long.
There is no turning back, there is no being wrong.
When the door does open, quickly do step in.
Grab a stone, climb the stairs; it’s where you will begin.
~
Harmony will fill our time and slumber will fill our needs.
Petty wants and desires found but never feeds.
With the dawn arisen, with cheers we will feast.
The nightmares now are over; we’ve tamed our daily beast.
~
Years may pass and maybe more, but your day will come.
The steps that you’ve chosen are now greater than their sum.
Rising ever higher, the sky will come into view.
The dream is nearly reached but the rest is up to you.

~*~
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Love is

Love is; the poem too long to write.

A canvas painted in light,

blending all the colors white.

 

The song too high to sing.

Timeless symbology of token ring,

endless joy two will bring.

 

A tug of war, win less win more.

Always warm beyond the door,

in sickness there’s no better cure.

 

Too follow and be pursued.

Feeling comfy in the nude.

Subtle glances never misconstrued.

 

Sheets full – to be continued…

 

 

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Wizard Mode

I’m off to see a wizard, the wonderful wizard of odd

It flutters all about waving a feathered rod

But first I’ll take a nice long nap

Wake up then find my thinking cap

 ~

I’ll sharpen my quills like a warrior’s blade

And joust with parchment where magic’s made

Then dig into my helmet, always full of goo

Hopefully to yank out something that is new

 ~

I never know what or if it may be

Until the ink dries then I’ll get to see

What magic has this wizard left?

Something clever or something deft

 ~

Sometimes the words all disappear

Then time has passed, wasted here

Though journeys un-ventured, high or low

Are the adventures you will never know

 ~

So follow your wizard and you will find

Those magical wizards are mostly kind

Though often absent, never fret, I’ve a hunch

Some wizards are just out to lunch

 ~*~

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Posthumous Futures

~

To all the writers never known
To the few from which we’ve grown
From their words the future’s sown
Rearranged to call our own

~

To all of those that do it now
From palette pure to graven brow
Investing all we dare allow
Divesting that we can’t avow

~

Time records in poem and prose
Imagined journeys no one knows
From euphoric highs to deadly lows
The tide of emotion forever flows

~

Looking back at history
Or hypothesizing infinity
Sensations felt we can’t see
Ink bled sets us free

~

Where to start, that depends
Our time alone shared with friends
Yet all stories must have ends
Well submerged is where life blends

~

Write the dark to see the light
Time always wins the fight
And when you lay awake tonight
Rest assured our future’s bright

~*~

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Trying

The harder I try, the harder it seems,

I’ve wasted much, reams and reams.

I’ve tried writing of infinity but couldn’t find an end.

Tried to write of society though I couldn’t offend.

~

I tried to write of death, can’t write in the dark.

Tried writing of youth but lost the spark.

Scribbled of sorrow, tears cleansed the sheets.

Dribbled of conquest but I had no feats.

~

I tried to write of time, that didn’t last.

Wrote of the future, thought of the past.

I’ve written coldly until my lips turned blue.

So I wrote of warmth and penned volumes for you.

~

My heart’s now thawed, boiling blood rises to brain.

Bleeding emotion doesn’t have to cause pain.

A trying life’s journey is what’s inked of late.

Perhaps it is now I’m writing of fate.

 

*

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To Write

towrite

To write of birth is a one-sided view

To write of the past when all is new

To write of life when opinions are plenty

To write of youth that ends at twenty

~

To write of joy is to write of grief

To write of pain is of no relief

To write of boredom is to never be bored

To write of lust like sports is scored

~

To write of love is to love first

To write of hate your mind will burst

To write of fear the fearful not dare

To write without fear is to write without care

~

To write of lies is to confess

To write of death is just a guess

To write of nothing is no life at all

To write is to write is a writer’s call

~*~

 

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My Pencil

My pencil in hand – mind set free
Erasing the chains binding me
Safe in my world of poetry
A better friend there cannot be

No rhyme or reason there’s to flee
No shackles of society
No meter of conformity
No question of sincerity

No judge, jury or guilty plea
No door can stop my slender key
I’ll wander through infinity
Another side of life’s journey

Draw lines that know no boundary
Return with words for all to see
Arrange them well – create beauty
Then thank my little piece of tree

~

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