To all my WordPress likes, or no
Your many gifts have helped me grow
For you my thanks I’d like to show
(though procrastination makes it slow)
With no further aside let’s give it a go
***
May all your hopes and dreams come true
Or at least get some rest
For another year’s upon us
I wish you all the best
And have a very merry holiday
With a dash of Ho, Ho, Ho!!!
And may your bells be jingled
Beneath the mistletoe
~*~
sck121615
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
~*~
Sck052615
Artful Sight
Colors the world bright
Sunrise, sunset, dark of night
Paint box filled with light
~
Night Rhythms
Notes strewn, candles fade
Laughter ebbs, whispers consume
Heartbeats set the tone
~
Fine Line
Lustful sheets beckon
Bodies tingle, lips moisten
Blood boils – time to write!
~*~
Sck060415
“Ignorance is bliss”
Is a good motto to have
If the only choice
~*~
sck071815
~
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
~*~
Sck112315
~~~
Nature batters, scarring far and wide.
Forgotten battles forever tied.
Man and rock bear the loss of all who’ve died.
Rugged faces change with the changing of a tide.
~
Keeping the wary from a watery hell,
a craggy post a dutiful keeper dwell.
Keeping by day his glass shined bright,
by night he keeps his flame alight.
~
Warning all comers never to near,
this beacon of virtue is only to fear.
Bravely they stand against wind and wave,
the ocean master, keeper slave.
~
Chores of many, companions none.
Sleep begins when work is done.
Ventures end before the dark.
His light stands silent awaiting spark.
~
Beyond this rock and choppy cove,
a small town lie where tales are wove.
Stories of stormy seas abound,
and faraway lands where treasure’s found.
~
In town sits a churchyard overlooking the sea.
Where the keeper visits when a calm day’s free.
Collects his needs quickly, no time for desire.
His row is long to return to his fire.
~
Scores of seasons drifted behind.
The keeper and kept, two of a kind.
Their toils unnoticed, yet seen by all.
Keeping kept the keepers call.
~
Reflections of stars upon the sea.
Infinite horizons awaiting he.
A beacon to all, his lamp not aglow.
To see the light the keep did go.
~
The town sad for their keeper unknown.
He was buried with care as one of their own.
At the edge of the churchyard lie the keep.
With eternal vistas of the light and the deep.
~
Dozens of keepers tried to keep.
All had left quickly, missing their sleep.
Stories told of the old keeper’s ghost.
A most spirited and demanding of host.
~
He rattled windows and slammed doors,
once hid away the old rowboats oars.
His steps are heard on the stairs all night,
sometimes blowing out the lighthouse’s light.
~
On a chilly morn some years past,
a storm was brewing, approaching fast.
A hardy young sailor paddled for the light,
racing the waves ahead of the night.
~
With setting sun and drenching rain,
wind and waves pummeled, no refrain.
Shores altered with the rising tide,
The hilltop churchyard couldn’t hide.
~
The keeps remains returned to sea.
The young sailor now keeps – happily.
And ever since that fateful day,
the old keeper’s spirit kept at bay.
~*~
Sck102415
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
Rulablelesssness
Poetry is speech
From hearts not minds – unconfined
Grammar cast aside
*
Metaphoric Netalism
A net full of holes
Will always fill with something
Without there’s nothing
*
All’s Write
Hands write history
A mind writes philosophy
Hearts write poetry
~
Sck110514
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
.
Sck103114
~
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
~*~
sck091415
~
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
Time for time-out it’ll end soon.
Dug in the yard with mom’s good spoon.
She’s had it since her wedding day.
Used just for holidays, not play.
*
I said that it was shaped just right,
to dig a trench where armies can fight.
Needs to be deep but not too wide.
Had to dig fast so they can hide.
*
Buried far down just like a tomb.
Guarding treasure found in your room.
Found in a box high on a chest.
It’s the booty pirates like best.
*
I must protect those shiny things:
chains, charms, bracelets, baubles and rings.
Hid them good, remembered the map.
But then forgot after my nap.
*
To help me dig I found a pet.
The best digger there is I’ll bet.
Finished our yard then went next door.
Found nothing, ran off to dig more.
*
Chased our cat high up in the tree.
Grandma called the police for me.
Her nurse had to help make the call.
The police came, that isn’t all.
*
While chasing his dog that I found,
the man fell from holes in the ground.
He said he’ll sue, just wait and see.
I said it was his dog, not me.
*
His face was red, limping away.
But grandma’s heart will be okay.
And I have some more good news.
While digging today, I wore no shoes.
*
They’re nice and clean and tucked away.
I’ll try no pants some other day.
Though mess was made with my bare feet,
I cleaned it up with hose and sheet.
*
Pushed all the water out the door.
Then to your room, I cleaned some more.
Too bad the hose didn’t quite reach.
I luckily then found the bleach.
*
You’ll smile when you turn on the light.
I know you like things clean and white,
with spots of color here and there.
You’ll surely hug your little dear.
*
I’m glad you’re home early today.
Don’t believe what the neighbors say.
The rescue came, Dad’s all right.
Not much pain, he’ll wake by tonight.
*
Go to the doctor, I’ll just wait.
I’ll be good and won’t stay up late.
I missed lunch; I’ll make us a snack.
Fix the chair dad broke with his back.
*
He climbed too high to find his keys,
lost his balance from wobbly knees.
I found some socks to wrap dad’s head.
Then found soldiers under my bed.
*
Recalled the mission to be done.
Ran downstairs to start the fun.
Found no spoons not already bent.
But then found yours and out I went.
*
And that’s where my story began.
Now come sit close mom, hold my hand.
I know that time-outs hurt you too.
But when it’s done I’ll still love you.
*
The End
sck2014
My word for the day is unforthcoming.
The results of which have got me bumming.
Its meaning is clear and so apropos.
I need to write but I’ve lost the flow.
~
People I ask are too unforthcoming.
The guesses they make are all unbecoming.
Or they just shrug and say “I don’t know”.
My patience then reaches another plateau.
~
The future’s events remain unforthcoming.
Yet my wordy obsession is clearly mind numbing.
I’ve planted this seed that now I must sow.
I’ve felt the drought and now I must grow.
~
Though this poem’s end is still unforthcoming,
my mood’s improving, soon I’ll be humming.
But to not get too stressed I’ll take it real slow,
so if not today then surely tomorrow.
~*~
SCK080721
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.
*
Sck120714
Amiss the spark that kindles slight
Drowned ablaze in airless fright
Volumes of ash on which to write
Cloaked in smoky forever night
Darkness fogs the wearies sight
Blinding jabs will lose the fight
Gentle touch soothes body’s plight
Awake to arms, hearth burns bright
Rejoice to stars and cool of night
Fires of light and warmth burn right
Colors return from black and white
Rekindled flame of two hearts delight
Sparks anew on celestial flight
~
The End
*
Sck102114
Dream me a dream of forever nights
When the one you desire comes into sight
Touching this heart most tenderly
Embraced are we in love’s poetry.
~
Dream me a dream of forever days
Together our visions cut through the haze
Freeing the mind of all that was feared
When Poetic embrace is forever shared
~
Dream me a dream of walking together
Sharing our love of ink and feather
Floating away in the dreams we desire
Where poetic hearts share words to inspire
~
Dream me a dream where dreams I’ll not need
Dream me a dream where my heart doesn’t bleed
Where a dream never ends or departs
Residing forever, a place in my heart
*
sck/tberryb/0114
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 that 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 unscathed except for my shell.
*
The End
*
SKittell c.2014
I want to be a jingle writer, write jingles every day.
I want to be a jingle writer, jingles all the way.
I want to be a jingle writer ‘cos there’s bills to pay.
I want to be a jingle writer, not much more too say.
*
I want to be a jingle writer and work from my backyard.
I want to be a jingle writer, poets work too hard.
I want to be a jingle writer, don’t understand avant-garde.
I want to be a jingle writer, no need to be a bard.
*
I want to be a jingle writer and put my tools to use.
I want to be a jingle writer, write short and loose.
I want to be a jingle writer; I’ll be no Dr. Seuss.
I want to be a jingle writer until I’m cut from the noose.
*
The End
Tomorrow’s to be the best day.
A day of sunshine, swim and play.
Must get to sleep, morning is near.
We’ll wake early, much to prepare.
*
Eat breakfast, find my pail and rake.
Great big castles of sand we’ll make.
Pack cooler with lunch, bring a hat.
Bags for towels and this and that.
~
Morning has come, wide open eyes.
Hoping for those clear blue skies.
It must be early, sky’s still gray.
Maybe I woke on the wrong day.
*
Waited all winter, now’s in reach,
sunny day of fun at the beach.
Went back to bed, nothing to do.
Closed my eyes then the sun shined through.
~
Jumped out of bed, day’s second chance.
Brush my teeth and put on short pants.
Ran downstairs for breakfast and more,
a surprise friend waits at my door.
*
We all got packed into the car.
Hoping the drive won’t be too far.
Wheels turn, were almost there.
Windows open, I smell the sea air.
~
Pull in the lot, our fun begins.
Unpack the car, pull out the bins.
We carry the bags, two for each.
Umbrellas up, blanket on beach.
*
Cooler wheels stuck in the sand.
Dad asked me to lend him a hand.
We’re all set up, time to explore.
There’s much to do at the seashore.
~
We hurry down to take our dips.
First toes then knees, up to hips.
The water’s cold, we jumped back out.
To thick towels we run and shout.
*
My fingers wrinkle, lips turn blue.
The sunshine’s warming me and you.
Sand’s sticking to my wet swimsuit.
Mom gets lunch; sandwich, drink and fruit.
~
Our feast is done, time to play ball.
Huffing and puffing, shared by all.
We blew it up then threw it high.
Caught by the wind, kept by the sky.
*
Grab our shovels, pile the sand.
Moats and towers, kings of this land.
Then waves came in with a crash.
Hours to build, gone in a splash.
Now we’ll find some big new sea shells.
Some are flat some shaped like bells.
Some you hear the sea in your ear.
Some will have things living in there.
~
Sifting for treasure in the sands.
Time slipping through our small wet hands.
We keep the best in a small sack.
To be explored when we get back.
*
Now let’s try the water again.
First you go then I’ll jump right in.
Dive and swim, watch seaweed float by.
Then the sun sank low in the sky.
~
We all go home, skin pink, eyes red.
Take a cool bath then off to bed.
Going to sleep dreaming of more,
a day at the beach is best – I’ m sure!
*
The End
sck081314
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~
There’ll be no daily sonnet today.
Thought has wandered and gone astray.
Nimble quill won’t dance on parchment bare,
seducing lonely on table near.
The well is dry from which I must drink.
Chair is empty were journeys to think.
No inky tears shed, blotted or smeared.
No blackened hands bloodied and feared.
Letters scrambled all over my mind.
Their chosen order I cannot find.
Brittle wax puddle proves candles death.
The darkness swallows my daylights breath.
Blindness shackles a masked and heavy head.
I shrink into my unwanted bed.
Heart and soul content for tomorrow.
When ink, I hope, once more will flow
~*~
sck082614
Why do writers write,
why do lovers fight,
why the lonely night?
`
Why do we ask why,
why must we say good bye,
why must we even try?
`
Why do demons taunt,
why do ghosts haunt,
why does beauty flaunt?
`
Why do dragons fly,
why’s the moon so high,
why does all life die?
`
Why dream of things afar,
why does life leave a scar,
why is why who we are.
`
Sck111014
Awaken Flight –
Cocooned larva’s night
Silken rest for mornings light
Freeing wings of flight
*
Write Time –
I have read so much
about writing, I ran out
of my time to write
*
Drunk Love –
Alcohol is the
Mothers milk of orphans
Drink deep, die alone
Sck103014
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