Forever Brine

Gaslights flicker, but one in three

These harsh fall winds batter thee

Soon the rains will pour and pelt

Yet with heavy heart nothing’s felt

~

Broken brick teeters beneath shoe-less feet

The stench of death fills the street

An island paradise – mine no more

Alas in this city to find a door

~

Thirty years lost at sea

‘Till found rescued, returned free

In search of a life I wish to find

Of futures not had and left behind

~

Now homeward bound to do what’s right

And share my tale of a dreadful night

With freezing sleet and gale, our sails torn

Splintered masts await the morn

~

Screams of mates haunting still

Silence came with the sunsets’ chill

I awoke to a native angel, urged to make a wife

Years of guilty pleasure pass of fertile island life

~

In a search never-ending of a foggy memory

Back to a decrepit city, forever lost to me

A vision of a woman I had no time to know

And a father-less child I never saw grow

~

Now I must roam this morbid place

In the shadows I hide this unknown face

With grizzled hide and toothless grin

Tis I this rotted hull of unforgivable sin

~

First I betrayed a young bride with family

I’ve betrayed my many brothers to a stormy sea

Betrayed my island flowers with my bastard seed

And their many blooms not knowing of their creed

~

In tangled webs of filthy alleys, doors locked tight

Shuttering out the dangers awakened in the night

Seeking boarded diamond pane, broken lintel I recall

My tiny door beckons just down the hall

~

Now steps ahead my future lies, one without a past

Decisions’ pondered long, yet always chosen fast

With a knock a ghost returns to those long at rest

Me thinks a splintered briny deck for all will be best

~*~

sck071615

Spooky House

At the end of my street, quite near,

Sits the source of all that I fear.

Now a horror, once a jewel,

I run fast on my way to school.

`

Looms alone behind a high wall,

Watching me pass, the house sees all.

Hidden by trees most of the year.

But when fall comes so does my fear.

`

Autumn leaves drop, crunch under feet.

Out pops the house that haunts our street.

Halloween comes, chill in the air.

But trick-or-treaters won’t go there.

`

Lights never on, no cars in drive.

Shades always down, nothing alive.

I’ve heard stories, sounds in the night.

Of the house that causes our fright.

`

The shutters bang and hinges creak.

But no one dare to take a peek.

Many a ball lost over the gate.

Remember the score, game can wait!

`

Spooky shadows in the moonlight.

Ghostly shapes in the dark of night.

The vines on the porch creep and crawl.

Been scaring kids since mom was small.

`

Bats in attic, mice in the shed,

Phantoms inside or so it’s said.

Some say it’s empty, some say not.

Either way I’m worried a lot.

`

Off to bed one dreary fall night.

A bad time to turn off the light.

Mom tucks me in, we chat awhile.

She kissed my cheek, left with a smile.

`

My sleepy smile soon fades to fear.

When spooky house dreams soon appear.

I close my eyes and try to sleep,

Ran out of numbers counting sheep.

`

Outside shadows all a quiver.

Howling winds making me shiver.

I peeked from under my blanket,

The darkness said no sunrise yet.

`

I turned on the light to just wait.

For morning to come, that’ll be great.

Awoke to good news, called my friend.

Our sleepless nights where soon to end.

`

Someone bought the spooky old place.

Hopes to restore its former grace.

House got painted, bushes cut down.

What a great home, what a great town.

`

Windows fixed fresh grass on the ground,

Sunshine and flowers all around.

New families in, kids galore.

And I’m not afraid anymore.

`

We play in the yard, ride the swing.

We make up rhymes for us to sing.

Now my favorite place to be.

But once I thought the house spooky.

`

The End

Sck091914

Forest of Hell

Colorless leaf crackle beneath sole-less feet.

The smell of death lingers sweet.

Bramble thick draws blood on paper skin,

digging more deeply the deeper within.

 *

Then starlight fades to the darkness I fear,

moonlight shadows disappear.

Columns abound supporting endless night,

numbers multiply consuming the light.

 *

Welcome dew hangs heavy in unseen air,

to drink deep I do not dare.

Outstretched hands replace teary useless eyes.

Senses heightened, alert of endless cries.

 *

Vibrations of night; soft, loud, far and near,

distant from all, we all hold dear.

Wanting now only to curl-up and weep,

my soul is still for the sickle to reap.

 *

Return to the path I lost yesterday,

blackness turns slowly to gray.

Long nights journey in the forest of hell,

surviving again, except for my shell.

 *

The End

*

sck~ c.2014

Sedentary Travels

My day begins before the sun’s rise.
My cat meows and I open my eyes,
I stumble downstairs and she gets fed.
If the weather’s bad we go back to bed.
~
If the weather’s good we’ll stay awake.
I’ll boil some water and coffee I’ll make.
Then off to the porch, facing due east.
The sky lights up and eyes will feast.
~
The dark now shed the future’s begun.
We’ve choices to make; good, bad or fun.
I choose fun because that’s always good.
The bad’s unchosen that’s understood.
~
An hour passes and sometimes two.
Where the time goes I have no clue.
Often I write or just sit and ponder.
I think of life and what I squander.
~
The sun gets high, the workday’s soon.
There’ll be hustle and bustle till late afternoon.
The clock ticks slower thinking of home.
Then back to the porch where minds can roam.

~*~
SCK101621

A Village Common

Sticky rails, dewy morn

Subway faces look forlorn

Feet beating on the street

Odors rising in the heat

~

September day the city way

Some are sad, some are gay

Rusty bells bang classes start

Painted faces, not quite art

~

Weary eyes survey the new

Innocent hearts there are few

Minds awash in filth and hate

Darkened souls to be their fate

~

Though light shines through on some

Dreaming of times yet to come

When hearts, souls and minds align

Looking beyond billboards for a sign

~

On threadbare tight-rope they do run

Chasing demons just for fun

Where falls expected, ends are not

Where wars are fought on empty lot

~

Fears hidden behind the fists

Fighting for first to be kissed

Truths that smack tender young faces

Their belted thighs can win no races

~

Barrels boxed beneath their capes

Leaving ghostly chalky shapes

Surviving a life that’s never lied

Steely limbs loiter temping outside

~

Oaken doors barred welcome the flesh

Roots of common seeds for minds fresh

Packing more and more withering giants all

Broken floors, chairs too few and small

~

Sown in these asphalt fields un-green

Awaiting sunny nurture seldom seen

To savor and sow or pluck premature

To die in a vase or billow pure

~

Forgotten beauties, shades of greed

Learning can grow our common seed

Our schools this village that I speak

Where betwixt the slabs blossoms peek

~

sck111914

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

The Littlest Dragon Slayer

.

A little scared of our trip last year,

to the far north-lands, the reason unclear.

Mountains, forests and an ice-cold lake,

no swimming or castles of sand to make.

.

Fresh air and sunshine, stars in the sky,

camping and hiking, climb mountains high.

That didn’t sound like much fun to me,

I’d rather visit a nice warm sea.

.

Drive lasted hours, slumped in the backseat.

We ran out of snacks, then nothing to eat.

We read a new book of funny rhymes,

I fell asleep a couple of times.

.

Some stories were good, some I got bored,

some I laughed loudly, others I snored.

Arriving late in the darkness of night,

waking early to rising sunlight.

.

First we ate breakfast then a short hike.

Had lunch with dessert, what’s not to like.

Then a museum of the natives past,

legends of old and now fading fast.

.

Heard some stories, we saw a show.

My favorite was of long ago,

it was of a little kid like me.

The bravest kid there could ever be.

.

She was the daughter of the great chief.

He died protecting all from the thief,

who flew in the night stealing their food.

And the cause of their thousand-year feud.

.

The girl shortened her father’s long spear.

Then roamed the forest without a fear,

to find who took her father away.

Then slay the dragon, no time for play.

.

I laid in bed thinking of all I heard.

Remembered almost all, details blurred.

Woke the next morning ready to go,

to fill in the blanks I didn’t know.

.

I went to the shore before sunrise.

I climbed on the rocks. That wasn’t wise.

Had to know if the legend was true,

then fell in from slippery shoe.

.

Hit the water with a splash and scream.

I floated down and started to dream.

I woke up much later warm and dry.

But there’s no sign of bright morning sky.

.

I felt all around for a way out.

Then saw light from something’s big snout.

I screamed and jumped, bumped my head and then,

I knew I was in that dragon’s den.

.

Her nostrils grew bigger, warm and bright.

Would I be cooked for a tasty bite?

She started to laugh and I to cry.

Was I to live or was I to fry?

.

She said “Hello” in a dragon tone.

“Glad to see you, I’m always alone.”

I was much surprised to hear her speak.

Her nature was gentle, almost meek.

.

Now in the brightness of her warm light.

We sat and chatted into the night.

She told me the truths I had to know.

And when she’s done burping I could go.

.

Dragons can wait to burp but it’s slow.

Or blow out flames with a mighty glow.

A truly bad idea, we both think.

So we waited for her belly to shrink.

.

We waited and waited for hours or more.

So she could shrink and unblock the door.

And when most all of her gas gone away,

I could slip out to the light of day.

.

By now it’s late and dragon’s still plump.

Rocks all around, I sat on my rump.

She spoke of the last to be with her –

It was the littlest dragon slayer.

.

“She was three feet tall and very bold,

Not much more than eight or nine years old.

She charged at me with her tiny spear,

tears pouring down, she showed no fear.

.

She plunged the stick in my outstretched paw.

She tried pulling it out to poke me some more.

The tip broke off; I’ve had it since then,

tucked away safe in my dragons den.

.

The girls cause noble though a mistake.

Her dear father’s life I didn’t take.

He chased me into the dark of night.

Belly swollen, I couldn’t take flight.

.

I ran and ran then climbed a tall tree.

But the brave young chief followed me.

He heard some chicks cry out on a limb.

Surviving the wind their chance’s grim.

.

Was the branch to weak, he couldn’t be sure.

But reached for the nest and made it secure.

He was a brave man, doing his best.

But fell to his death saving the nest.

.

The small girl glad to know what was right.

But she’s still very sad at her loss that night.

It wasn’t my fault but I share the blame.

Though sad, she forgave me all the same.

.

While in the forest the rest of that day,

we planned how to keep others away.

I promised to sleep most of the year,

hiding when there are people to scare.

.

The slayer agreed to spare my soul.

Keeping her friendship is my life’s goal.

She would try to visit when she could,

into the darkness of the night wood.

.

I gave her a claw as proof of who won –

that famous dragon slaying mission.

She wore it always and was admired by all”

I said it was now on the museum’s wall.

.

The dragon then shared more of her life,

her times of happiness, times of strife.

There’s never to be any flying at all.

Unless to answer another dragons call.

.

Said she’s free to swim under the ice,

but never when the weather is nice.

And while out for her last swim of the year.

I fell in and she found me there.

.

She brought me back to her cozy den,

where she’d hibernate all over again.

Our chat ended as her eyes turned red,

her tummy stirring, she warmly said.

.

“Please take the tip of the slayers spear,

So you can recall your time spent here.

Think of me fondly now that we’re friends.

And trust that a dragon’s love never ends.”

.

She finally burped, I held my nose,

but that’s how a dragon friendship goes.

Then out the backdoor and into the wood,

I ran as fast as ever I could.

.

Now thinking, of course of mom and dad,

the sooner I’m back the less they’ll be sad.

Then the rangers soon found me safe and sound.

They were all happy I hadn’t drowned.

.

Back at the camp we all hugged and kissed.

I was safe and assured I was missed.

But then all the questions that they had –

Over and over until I got mad!

.

They didn’t believe my dragon tale.

I showed them my proof to no avail.

It was thought that my memories blurred –

by all the stories that I had heard.

.

Tales of dragons and slayers in the night,

all normal causes of a child’s fright.

A doctor checked the bump on my head,

then sent me back home for time in bed.

.

I’m glad for the friendship of a dragon.

But all in all it wasn’t much fun.

I’ve learned new things and a good lesson had.

That a kid all alone is very very bad!

.

And now I’ve shared my legend with you.

Like the slayer’s, it’s mostly all true.

But if you don’t believe I’m sincere –

I’ll show you the tip of that little spear.

.

~:~ the End ~:~

Sck093014

Dream

~

Sailed the seas on a pirate ship

Skied mountains, almost broke my hip

Boxed the champ, he bit his lip

A chocolate cow found, took a sip

.

Touched the clouds from my balloon

Wrestled a bear and a baboon

I flew in a rocket to the moon

Then got hungry, be back soon

.

Dove to the bottom of oceans deep

Then up in a plane, took a leap

While floating down went back to sleep

My dreams are fun, no need to weep

.

Opened eyes, wiped sleep from brow

Looked all around but saw no cow

I know it’s time to wake up now

I’ll dream again, someway, somehow

~*~

sck050416

Cookies

Cookies, cookies the perfect treat.
Eat them in shoes, socks or bare feet.
I’ve eaten them in my underwear.
You can eat them nude, if you dare.

Sometime just one, sometimes more,
Fresh from the oven or the store.
I prefer fresh, chocolate goo.
But from a box or bag will do.

There’s no time of the day or night,
When eating cookies isn’t right.
When times are good a cookie’s great.
When times are bad I might need eight.

In the kitchen with mom to bake,
The perfect gift cookies will make.
Cookies soon done and into the car,
Then to grandma’s house, it isn’t far.

That smell of cookies is taunting me,
Under the foil where I can’t see.
But I must wait, we’re almost there.
With bunches of cookies for us to share.

We pull in the drive, rush to the bell.
Running so fast I almost fell.
But I held tight to that plate in hand.
I don’t like my cookies mixed with sand.

My big pile of goodness for us to eat,
Stacked high on a plate, nice and neat.
Mom opens the door, I run right in.
Hugs for all, let the party begin!

The girls dance about in pretty new dresses.
The boys run and shout and make big messes.
When we’re done yelling, screaming and raving,
It’s time to quench our cookie craving.

Then back to the car and homeward bound.
Soon dozing off to a breezy sound.
While thinking of cookies I start to dream,
About a world of cookies and cream.

Cookies, cookies the anytime treat.
Eat them at home or the backseat.
You can eat them everywhere,
On the ground or high in the air.

Cookie rockets go to the stars.
Cookies for wheels on our cars.
I dream of a world of cookie dough.
Freshly baked and ready to go.

Cookies for beds for us to sleep,
We’ll count cookies instead of sheep.
Cookies we’ll roll all over town.
We’ll get some milk to wash them down.

A non-round cookie won’t be right.
Remember the poor gingerbread’s plight.
Cookies not round we’ll call them fakes.
They can all be just biscuits or cakes.

If all cookies where round by law.
We wouldn’t have circles or arcs to draw.
The sun would be a cookie shape.
And big cookie craters on a cookiescape.

A bump in the road made my dream roll away.
I’ll dream another, another day.
Where almost home and I’m glad.
A quiet snack is never bad.

It’s getting late, my day’s almost done,
But one last thing that’s always fun.
In-between the wash, rub and scrub.
I nibble a cookie in my tub.

But I never ever eat cookies in my bed.
You’ll sleep real crumby or so it’s said.
And now it’s time to turn off the light.
Sweet dreams to all and have a goodnight.

The End

Sck112914

Func’n A.I.

~

What’s now A.I. is All’s Intelligence.

This function A.I. is without consequence.

It’s logic and reason for all to enjoy.

Problems now solved with the ease of a toy.

.

Every one’s connected and nothing’s overlooked.

The trains run on time and never overbooked.

Errors now are few and never to repeat.

The “WAVE” knows all and when to delete.

.

This WAVE’s all around and for all to share.

Redundancy is gone leaving space to spare.

The empirical institution the WAVE’s now become.

It’s an indispensable companion, less trusted by some.

.

It’s used by corporations and governments alike.

Debates now pointless, there’s no need to strike.

Pick your favorite dilemma and the question’s fed.

Answer’s always forthcoming for the followers led.

.

When asked one day why do wars exist?

Why do greed, intolerance and hunger persist?

Why does hate divide when love multiplies?

Why is the truth of one another’s lies?

.

The WAVE sputtered, rose and fell.

And with a splash came its truth to tell.

Man it seems likes to draw lines,

dotting these boarders with deadly land-mines.

Races and religions all have their view.

And with each line drawn they divide by two.

Religion’s divided by do’s and don’ts and do’s don’t agree,

though most can get along individually.

Races will be returned to from where they came.

Then race can no longer be to blame.

Next to consider is the many of mixed pedigree,

they’ll be sent to cities, internationally free.

 .

Thus to return, almost, the world’s indigenous past.

And with tides quickly changing you need to act fast.”

The WAVE roared on to the council’s astonishment.

A vote was had for a very special televised event.

.

The speaker stepped to the podium and a spreadsheet unfurled,

it’s content of graphs and charts now shared with the world.

And of course as expected the masses erupted.

For each surmised the other’s corrupted.

.

A new council called for a WAVE review

For all agreed that something’s askew.

This council concluded if manmade there’s a bug.

And thus their proved right when pulling the plug.

~*~

Sck061916

In the Shadow of Windmill Cottage

Behold this welcome image.
Where a hill rises from a bay.
There a tiny sheltered village lay.
All in the shadow of Windmill Cottage.
Steady breeze most every day.
~
Sails from afar spill their goodwill.
From their nets sea treasure abound.
Farms thrive above on fertile ground.
Good fortune trickles down the hill.
Sea birds fill the air with sound.
~
Ancient timbers shade from lofty stage.
Labored grain grows upward at the season’s rate.
Winds howl, warmth’s aglow on the hill top grate.
Flour flows freely down from Windmill Cottage.
Where nature’s breath spins the wheel of a poets estate.
~
He attends happily to familiar chores.
Quarterly ledgers bulge beneath waistcoat fair.
His quarterly journey to the bankers’ lair.
His shadow alone opens Main Street doors.
Harvest moon will guide homeward the fortunate heir.
~
Dusk creeps up as day slips by.
Modest and ordered with nothing ablaze.
Must avoid the many scrupulous gaze.
In the shadows inhibitions die.
A visit with strangers, heads all a daze.
~
Journey’s end in darkness where hill meets bay.
Tufted coaches dash the posh up to their inns.
Others huddle by fire pits drinking homemade gins.
The trades of the night swap those of day.
Church bells echo, atoning for their sins.
~
Just another blurry face on the wooden shores.
Where the day’s death lingers and ships bells ring.
Taverns fill, ale flows and drunken sailors sing.
Fiddles play and jigs are had on the dirty floors.
Habitual killers all, Oh what joy they bring

~

Few will stay, most homeward bound.
Some laugh loudly while others cry.
Some will fight, some will die.
In search of peace to be found –
In the deep or endless sky.
~
Faceless comfort fills empty space.
Men with silver are sick for a day.
Boys with gold suffer years away.
Moonlit romance lingers on perfumed lace.
Then life’s anew beyond the tiny bay.
~
Sharing much common thread,
In this moment “ brothers all.
Whale lamps flicker on sooty wall
Making friends while breaking bread.
All await the Bosun’s call.
~
In a corner where shadows overlap.
The poet searches for his light,
Where the day’s brew flows all night.
Safe, for now from his hilltop trap,
Layers of darkness, out of sight.
~
Behold this most unwelcome image.
The seat no more where the poet presides.
Now in his shadow a filthy little demon hides.
Return not quenched to Windmill Cottage –
And wait again for the new moon tides?
~
Lonely candle spews depth on a lonely face.
Unseen pests sing their unwanted song,
The scent of time ticking long.
His travels must be many, all left a trace.
In the darkness our senses strong.
~
Hat brim low to hide his shame.
The poet stutters with utter surprise.
The traveler snickers, doesn’t rise.
With sideways glance he asks the poets name.
Honestly answered by the fear in his eyes.
~
When after long hesitation a hasty reply ”
“A traveler like you” was all that he said.
But after some ale the silence was dead.
Yard by yard many distant words fly.
Palettes grow when faces shade red.
~
Cider was next and followed by rum.
The traveler’s tales all told in prose.
The wetter the lips the faster it flows.
Hated by most, loved by some.
That’s how a traveler’s life often goes.

~

The poet a rather tall fellow.
The traveler a poet by name.
So many ports traveled they all looked the same.
His heart pumped blue, the poet gay and mellow.
Opposite sides of a coin, no one is to blame.
~
“With little time to hone a craft –
With a draft from an open door.
To close then return no-more.
To open then evermore – the draft.
Spirits gone, gone the craft – nevermore.”
~
What dribble do you speak my friend?
The poet inquired in disgusted tone.
“The dribble I think when thirsty and alone.”
The traveler quipped with message to send.
I’ll tell you another, that’s my own.
~
“Silent words are never heard –
The voiceless poet stuttered.
Repeated babble muttered.
His rhymes always sputtered.
More mindless words would be absurd.
~
The air he breathed was glutted.
His helm so poorly ruddered.
His shirts all heavily buttered.
From his many toasts self-uttered.
His mind so free and uncluttered.
~
His weaknesses many and unobserved.
Blinded to the Reaper’s shadow – deserved.
Soon the voiceless poet will be unheard.
Then blissful quiet on his paths wandered.
His welcome silence – forever heard.”
~
Drunken rabble roared with delight.
The poet withered belittled.
The traveler’s attention fizzled.
When laudanum’s sipped out of sight.
The poet escaped most grizzled.
~
Out of the dark into the night.
Bellowing air; cold, wet and starless.
His poisoned lips know no finesse.
His state of mind out of time – not right.
The poet’s mind wanders aimless.
~
The traveler tucked snugly in his bunk.
With help from many new joyous fan.
All loved the howls of this traveled Wild-man.
His tales make perfect sense “ drunk.
The favorite carried and the pompous ass ran.
~
Boot heals clack on cobble slick.
While stallion slumbers atop golden bed.
The poet stumbles upward with achy head.
If only to have his gilt throat-ed stick.
This shadowy path he may be found dead.
~
The wind that is my fortune is slowly killing me.
This hill of heritage too high for me to climb.
With forceful push from the hands of time.
Drawing me back to a frigid sea.
My misery oh-so great ” it is oh-so sublime.
~
Head tucked low, bottom up always slow.
Darkness wanes to purples then red.
Day is born, horrors of the night soon dead.
Hands and knees bloodied and bruised – falls of woe.
Alas the bodies of servants to guide to downy bed.
~
Winter’s behind, graven plans regress.
Fevered sleep past, shadows of death dawdle.
Summer awaits, the poet’s lessons dwindle.
His magnum opus went off to press.
Journey to Main Street, praise to guzzle.
~
Surveying high atop his magnificent mount.
The poet exclaimed “behold this welcome image”
Deceived by the bustle, not he the homage.
But a tome by a worldly traveler – no doubt.
It was “In the Shadow of Windmill Cottage”
~*~
The End

Sck101614

The Seed

~

Colors of autumn, death’s in bloom.

Return to the earth, the seeds’ final tomb,

nourishing yet another season.

We’re all guests of earth for this reason.

~

And thus the surety of life;

prosperity, mediocrity or strife.

All to return to where once came,

regardless of misfortune or fame.

~

For life is but a lesson –

throughout our mortal existence.

A test of our bodies, minds

and hearts persistence.

~

We’re all creatures of the same seed.

Return to the earth, our souls freed.

So let us not perceive death an end –

simply a new life to transcend.

~

For death is the exploration

of dimensions unknown.

And thus the destiny of the seed-

Grown

~

Sck2014/84

Morning Triku #70 – Abstaction

Has a Ball

.

What surrounds us all;

Warms, chills, cries – never dies?

Ever changing skies

 

 ~

Fusion

 .

Old flames reunite

Fueled and mingling freely

When all becomes ash

~

Merry-Go-Round

.

Around and around

We all go, around what is

What I’d like to know

~*~

Sck061715

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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Strolling

Adventures begin

When four wheels spin

On shady paths and city streets

In knitted booties or tiny bare feets

 ~

Our big happy faces loudly giggle

My little pink piggy’s squiggle and wiggle

When breezes tickle in warming sun

Our shiny four wheels are always fun

 ~

We go fast and slow, up and down

Sometimes mom calls dad a clown

Birds and dogs, signs and sound

There are moving pictures all around

~

With me always on journey’s far

Folds up neat to fit in the car

Adventure time’s what I like best

But sometime strollers need a rest

 *

The End

 .

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Slices of Time

~

Stories of a life hidden beneath the grays

Peel back the many layers, see the brighter days

Shades grow ever subtle; space grows to its end

Hues upon a palette, in time all will blend

~

Our colors, depths and textures all leave their traces

Memories in murals and the portraits many faces

Like time measured in the trees ringed grain

Reflections of our many years of snow, ice and rain

~*~

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Anatomicalatomicgalactica

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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Morning Triku # 174 ~ Good Starts

No Down Side

Creativity’s
not about making things up,
it’s making things work.
~

Conundrum

If love made as much
as the time I spend writing,
I’d no time to write.
~

All Good

Love is beautiful,
when all else is not. Love is
all when from the heart.

~*~
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The Seed

~

Colors of autumn, death’s in bloom.

Return to the earth, the seeds’ final tomb,

nourishing yet another season.

We’re all guests of earth for this reason.

~

And thus the surety of life;

prosperity, mediocrity or strife.

All to return to where once came,

regardless of misfortune or fame.

~

For life is but a lesson –

throughout our mortal existence.

A test of our bodies, minds

and hearts persistence.

~

We’re all creatures of the same seed.

Return to the earth, our souls freed.

So let us not perceive death an end –

simply a new life to transcend.

~

For death is the exploration

of dimensions unknown.

And thus the destiny of the seed-

Grown

~

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Bad Vacation

Forbidden Pool2

Vacation’s soon and I can’t wait.

On the calendar mark the date.

Planning and dreaming all long year

Soon our vacation will be here.

*

I started to pack weeks before.

A few clothes and toys galore.

I need a lot for our long stay.

But mom repacks it anyway.

*

Alarm didn’t work, taxi was late.

With seconds left we made the gate.

Sat in the plane with no fresh air.

Waiting for bad weather to clear.

*

Hours wasted then off we fly.

Wings wobble, we bounce in gray sky.

Black night rain, runway wet and slick.

Vacation starts, we all get sick.

*

We landed late our luggage not there.

Just full of clothes, I didn’t care.

Late night taxi cost us double,

Big tip needed for his trouble.

*

Get to our rooms, sun starts to rise.

Daylight’s wasted with closed eyes.

Day one of vacation’s now done,

Hope the next six will be more fun.

*

But first a shower then some rest.

Than out for breakfast that’ll be best,

Eggs and juice, toast with warm butter.

Opened the door our hearts flutter.

*

Toilets broke, no shower at all.

A sign on door said tub down hall.

Beds were unmade, hot water cool.

Mom’s mad, dad joked about the pool.

*

We went to the lobby to protest.

Stood in the line with all the rest.

The man at the desk did all he could.

Some of the guests didn’t treat him good.

*

Threw down his pen, could take no more.

Grunting and shouting ran for the door.

“Hotel closed” he said running out.

Leaving us stranded, all in doubt.

*

Where would we go, where would we stay?

Yet another bad vacation day.

We found a place, it wasn’t cheap.

But we needed a place to sleep.

*

Cramped and dark but at least clean.

The tiniest bathroom I’d ever seen.

Just two beds, no TV at all.

One small window looked at a wall.

*

Settling in to rest our eyes.

Then off to lunch in clear blue skies.

But halfway there it starts to rain.

My jackets gone, left on the plane.

*

We ran fast to a place nearby.

Sitting soaked on stools too high.

Fish only menu, not for me.

Hours passed drinking pop, refills free.

*

Bellies bloated, day spent.

The sun came out and down it went.

Saw a movie we saw before.

Back to our rooms, locked the door.

*

Much the same the rest of the week.

Sun came out once, we caught a peek.

Went to the beach, waters to cold.

A bad vacation getting old.

*

Good news came later that week.

Luggage found but in Chesapeake.

Put back on plane, soon to leave there.

They’ll be back late, we won’t be here.

*

Trip soon over saw a new place.

Lots of ant bites, rash on my face.

Dad lost his watch, mom caught a bug.

Stuffed plastic bags with things to lug.

*

Our ride to the airport, not much fun.

Stuck in traffic in the noon day sun.

Bad vacation was had this year.

Being home soon is all I care.

*

One good part of a trip gone bad.

Is getting home and being glad.

Vacations done, better next year.

You go and have fun, I’ll stay here.

*

The End

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