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”
Outside my window perched in a tree
Tis a winged demon that caws at me
At me it caws and caws all day
Till darkness consumes then caws go away
Tis then a candle lit, awaiting peace
Creative spark await release
The hourly chime hourly chides
This spark within creatively hides
Searching I pace in this tiny room
From shadow to shadow returning to gloom
Going in circles around in a square
Till wearily I slump back into my chair
Through random lacy limbs I spy the moon
With gentle breezes the patterns I swoon
Patterns swooning dance on dingy walls
The net surrounds and the demon calls
Consciousness concedes, silence relieves
In the dark the dark the mind believes
Rest and wait or rise and scream
Choices few at the edge of a dream
Wax drippings lapping pages bled
Of serpentine spine and heavy head
Blackness cloaks the demons night
Their quills aplenty shade the light
Demon, oh demon please let me be
Yet still they tap, tapping for me
Tap tap tapping on my foggy pane
Tap, tap tapping with no refrain
Without refrain demons tap in kind
Tapping demons tap, tapping my mind
Is this tapping, tapping to remind?
Or is it tapping to seek and find?
Oh demon cloaked with hidden face
To take from you is my disgrace
Your gifts adored left on my sill
Yet to rest on your back I am still
To be only still is reverse
Dive or fall, a lover’s curse
To soar or sink is to immerse
The spirit wishes to guide the verse
This spirit and I of common goal
Each to rise from the hole
One to fly, one to scratch and claw
Each may fall, one to caw, caw, caw
Our bond’s made to find a link
If to trade my soul I wish to think
I wish to think another’s ink
Of golden quills and wine to drink
In gilded glass I wish to wink
Then step away until I shrink
Till all is gone with a blink
But for the ink, I wish to think
I think I think, I think I see
I think I see light shines on me
Sight and sound now distortion free
The path’s clear toward tranquility
If to be a final rest, now’s to be the time
Drifting in an open mind is to be sublime
Or if to rise and most joyfully find
I’ve awakened as a different kind
To be warm of heart and cool of mind
Forward moving and never behind
Of filigree hands to align and chime
Tis then the taps return, tapping in time
Taps on the window from arms of the past
To embrace their grip the future’s cast
When cracks appear in my shield of glazing
The demon swoops for the dawns hazing
With inky beak and beating wings
Caw, caw, caw the demon sings
They dance upon the empty pages
Quills ablaze their fire rages
Then morning breaks the lidded seal
Illuminating all thought real
Am I to be taken or to consume?
Or wake to sunlight returning to gloom
Betwixt the shadows exposed by the light
Tis demons craft conjured last night
With nary a blotch nor stroke askew
Flawless leaf scribed by I know not who
I dare not share these words unknown
Through my window they have flown
The prize of demons cawing in a tree
Thus return I must this gift given me
Summer’s at its end, no paths leading home,
memories haunt, hunger leads wherever he does roam.
The hazy starlight setting, the sun’s ready to rise.
A frightened little orphan wipes dreams from sleepy eyes.
Soon the bells will ring calling all’s return.
The timid sure to flounder, the hardy always earn.
Darting through the alleys, the bay comes in view.
Ships aplenty ply the piers promising something new.
Upon these docks seabirds feast,
sharing the waste with all other beast.
Flies swarm, rats persist and hungry dogs bark.
There are many unseen faces lurking in the dark.
Survivors all, as is he, sharing the spoils of a bountiful sea,
no masters’ switch or mothers’ screams when a life is free.
Two pockets and a mouth full will feed for a day.
Fancy cord or carved wood may even bring some pay.
Scavenging for a morsel, a meal comes in sight.
Tis crated fruits from afar, a taste of pure delight.
Brushing off the larvae and peeling rotted skin,
sweet sensations pass the lips, a smile grows within.
Then giggles gurgled from his blissful throat.
Till greed consumes and bellies bloat.
Euphoria swells and inhibitions subside.
The bustle begins there’s no need to hide.
While hunger had made his mind alert.
Gluttony now makes his body inert.
Guard lowered, feet slow to run,
this young boys’ journey’s now just begun.
Sailors seized the well fed thief.
Then shackled aboard to ease their grief,
a gift for the captain from his loyal crew.
A cabin boy’s needed, there’s much to do.
Soon underway and far from land,
the mate unlocks the orphans’ hand.
The boy then runs toward sun and air.
On deck he cries watching land disappear.
Formalities scant then forced to chores,
His long nights stowed behind locked doors.
They voyaged south where weather’s warm,
when the waters grew bumpy ahead of a storm.
The captain commanded his capable crew.
And the boy was forgotten with so much to do.
The bright sun fell with the dark rising sea.
Freedom escapes when nowhere to flee.
The howling winds and roaring waves,
called heroes and fools to watery graves.
The skipper stood bravely at his battered helm,
barking out orders to all in his realm.
He called for his servant to secure a line tight.
The boy climbed too high, falling into the night.
The bosons’ pipe blew and bells rang out,
muffling the sounds of the orphans last shout.
The boy sank fast with his final breath.
When suddenly snatched by the jaws of death.
In a cage of tooth and tongue for seat,
waiting was he to be something’s treat
Swimming as fast as ever she could,
the serpent’s intensions were soon understood.
Diving through darkness then leaps in the air.
A long journey had, till the weather was fair.
He awoke on a beach, the serpent close by.
Being baked in hot sand to be eaten and die.
Before he could run the beast came near.
She patted his head and said “Have no fear.”
She gazed into his scared little eyes.
Assuring him serpent myths were lies.
“We’re not all monsters or killers you see,
though maybe a few but certainly not me.”
“Serpents get angry when harpoons fly their way,
or when dragged ashore for a tasty fillet.
Bounties are had that pay by the pound,
riches await when a big serpents found.”
The new friends chatted the rest of the day.
They shared their pasts till no more to say.
Dozing they snuggled on a bed of soft leaf,
dreaming of a life without any grief.
Wakened to sunshine and breakfast pre-made.
The grinning pair feasted on greens in the shade.
Then time for a swim in their private lagoon.
They frolicked together till the rising full moon.
Days and weeks then years soon past,
the happy young boy was growing fast.
The pair traveled the oceans and faraway lands,
their life’s serene with no demands.
They ate and slept and played on a whim,
till the boy grew curious of others like him.
He asked many questions, to the serpent unknown,
her boy a young man, now twice grown.
His name, he had none, he could recall.
He was always called boy and that was all.
The serpent, a serpent, there’s no need for a name.
The boy called her mum just the same.
The wise serpent knew their time couldn’t last,
The boy’s now a man and still growing fast.
Mum was ashamed of keeping the boy,
to coddle and cuddle and treat like a toy.
They played together, she watched him grow,
all the time knowing he’d eventually go.
A plan was hatched she couldn’t admit.
If her boy found out he’d have a fit.
She would swim close to shore then into the bay.
She’d crash on the beach for her boy’s big payday.
A hero he’d be and rewarded a bounty vast.
But she had to be quick for her nerve to last.
The day was perfect and the sky was clear.
Boy was napping when land came near.
The plan underway, Mum turned the last bend.
The town grew closer, her life soon to end.
Flapping her flippers as fast as she could,
splashes seen as she knew they would.
With one last thrust she lunged for the land.
The boy awakened when thrown to the sand.
The town folk scattered, guards quick to arrive.
None had seen a serpent alive.
Bruised and battered the boy came to.
Quickly he knew what he had to do.
He knew his friend would have a plan.
The boy’s time was now to be a man
Fearlessly facing his many foes,
standing with mum to shield their arrows.
He called for the general to make a deal.
“Spare your feasts now for many a meal.
Or a battle we will have with much to lose.
Life or death sir is for you now to choose.”
The general perplexed requested his king.
A long hour past, mum started to sing.
The crowds joined in and fears were eased.
The deal was sealed and all were pleased.
The general was spared potential bloodshed.
The serpent was spared her intelligent head.
The boy made an admiral though a scant crew,
with a fleet of just one and we all know who.
His beloved town prospered, called the boy Beau.
Replacing the name he didn’t know.
Beau got married, had many a young.
The eldest’s in a band with a grand mum who sung.
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
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.
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.
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.
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
Life blossoms shedding care
Day’s grow longer, nights dear
Not too hot, not too cold
Perfect time, young or old
Always warm, always fun
Life outside in the sun
Day’s long, grass grows tall
Night’s breeze welcome by all
Full of color, golden bed
On the ground, leaves shed
Getting shorter, day’s fair
Night’s crisp, chill in the air
World of white, weather bold
Day’s short, nights long and cold
Holidays, many friends
Bittersweet when it ends
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 ~:~
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
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.
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.
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-
Has a Ball
What surrounds us all;
Warms, chills, cries – never dies?
Ever changing skies
Old flames reunite
Fueled and mingling freely
When all becomes ash
Around and around
We all go, around what is
What I’d like to know
Poetry is speech
From hearts not minds – unconfined
Grammar cast aside
A net full of holes
Will always fill with something
Without there’s nothing
Hands write history
A mind writes philosophy
Hearts write poetry
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…
Summer days turn autumn night
Winter days, all is white
Spring returns with natures light
Summer’s daze, all is right
Seasons of love, time’s bright
Love each other, gaze tonight
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
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
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.
No Down Side
not about making things up,
it’s making things work.
If love made as much
as the time I spend writing,
I’d no time to write.
Love is beautiful,
when all else is not. Love is
all when from the heart.