poetry

Ten, Nine, Eight …

Much surprised by the calendar today.
Valentines’ is less than a month away.
I’ve thoughts to think and things to buy.
There’s flowers and candy, gladly no pie.
~
I should be ready; it comes every year.
A showing of love to make things clear.
A poem’s expected and that means stress.
My pencil’s dull and my mind’s a mess.
~
The time is short, and my list is long.
I’ve much to do and can’t be wrong.
I love to write but when I choose.
When I’m forced I get the blues.
~
That’s much like life, at least for me.
I’m at my best when I’m free,
sharing a life with my best friend.
We’ll laugh and love until the end.
~
She makes my life a joy to live.
So something special I’ll need to give.
These next few weeks won’t be much fun.
Then again, I might be done.

~*~
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Too Cold To Go Outside

I woke today – weatherman lied.

I rolled over and I sighed.

Couldn’t sleep, eyes open wide.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

There’ll be no swing set or slide.

There’ll be no walk or bike ride.

There’ll be no kites to be flied.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

Today we have to play inside.

We’ll think of things never tried.

Stocking feet on floors we’ll glide.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

We’ll build a fort for us to hide.

We’ll play dress up – you be bride.

Explore jungles – I’ll be guide.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

Time to dig a path that’s wide.

Getting dressed, boot laces tied.

Wind so stingy I almost cried.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

All’s warm, coats hung to be dried.

Find crayons, colors I’ve eyed.

Draw pictures for the fridge with pride.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

Icy world all is gray sky-ed.

Plants droopy, looks like they died.

Bay frozen we’ll see no tide.

It’s too cold to go outside.

~

Now sleep, teddies at my side.

Cold nights end, take it in stride.

Spring soon then winter we’ll chide.

When not too cold to go outside.

~*~

sck092414

Uncommon Sense

Punch the clock, kiss time away

Let’s all have a common sensical day

We’ll strive to attain the white picket fence

From this thing called common sense

 ~

Though no more than society’s rigidity

Saying that everyone had better agree

And if you don’t than you must be lacking

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

 ~

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

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

And when someone says you lack common sense

Say thanks, I’d rather be uncommon than dense

 ~

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Morning Triku #69

Rings True

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Mutually daring

Quintessentially caring

Lovingly sharing

~

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Howling

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Up before sunrise

Down by noon, dreading blue skies

Awaiting the moon

~

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Dimensionally Stable

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Having thought outside

The box for so long, I’ve now

Become Tripolar

~*~

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Winded

Tis the wind that taps my glass.
I close my eyes with hope to pass.
Tis the wind beats on my door.
I cower and cover till no more.
~
Tis the wind that haunts my home.
Forever it lurks where I roam.
Tis the wind that rattles my brain.
Run do I, none to gain.
~
Tis the wind wherever I go.
Till ash am I then it to follow.
Tis this wind shall set me free.
Scattered safely I shall be.
~*~

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Morning Triku #63

Too Little Rhyme ~

Life is Poetry

Some is good and some is bad

Most we’ll never see

*

Forever’s Never Last ~

Our writing is the

Exercise that forces us

To live fitfully

*

Con-Tent ~

Home’s where our stuff’s stored

A store is where our stuff’s bought

Bought’s where our heart’s sold

~*~

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Middling Thoughts

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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Almost Optimism

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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Guns, Gods & Greed

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Sowing a hideous seed, nourished with gas dug from our past.

Shoot first ask questions last. But hurry they’re going fast.

Guns, gods and greed

Suckled breast corporate laced, plastic faces our world graced.

We share with all what we waste from our piles made of haste.

Winner takes all, just make the call. Man is big the earth small.

Enemies don’t grieve, faith does not deceive.

Much to achieve, just believe.

Guns, gods and greed

The seed grown, seeds of their own, on the wind they’ll be blown.

 Or from our hands they’ll be thrown all to cast the final stone.

Spreading death, division and despair – when thrice comes to bear.

The end may be near, a warning shot we’ll never hear.

But never fear.

Guns, gods and greed

Raise our arms to the skies, pop goes the fireflies.

Screams drown out the cries.

Close your eyes daylight dies, truth within, outside lies.

We laugh at others strife. Define who’s to be a wife.

Skewer the peace with our knife.

But soon we’ll all be saved – from life.

Guns, gods and greed

The  End

Steve Kittell 2014

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

~

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Snowflakes

 If no two snowflakes are the same,

When melted do they come back again?

How do all the storm clouds know,

What each other makes for snow?

 **

Though thought all different, ingredients same

Freely floating flakes, cousins of rain

Minuscule crystals suspended in lines

Destiny’s same – the kiss of sunshine

 *

Just another of natures’ follies, like we all

The higher the cloud, the faster the fall

The longer the blizzard, the deeper the strife

The hotter the day, the shorter the life

 .

Do we really care if snowflakes are the same?

Or are we just repeating an old silly game?

A game that can never ever be won –

When all the pieces melt in the sun

~*~

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Book of Dreams

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A page from my book of dreams;

a tale of love, or so it seems.

I wake each day the dream doesn’t end.

Will she ever love me or shall I just pretend?

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Technicolor visions and her scent in the air

Awaken from this dream I could never dare.

Her touch always welcome on my trembling skin.

When she says she loves me, my life will then begin.

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Encounters of the flesh, too few to ever last.

Music of her voice now echoes of the past.

Sunlit voids surround were daylight once was bright.

Now only darkness brightens our rendezvouses of night.

~*~

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Morning Triku II

My Love

A look, touch – A kiss

Hands, bodies – Tactile bliss

Love – Nothing’s amiss

 ~

My Friend

Heart strings stroked feel heat

Neck caressed long and sweet

Rhythm head to feet

 ~

Begin’d

How humans learned

They died for knowledge yearned

Trial and error’d

 

~*~

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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

The End       sck081514

Imagine Resolution

The dawn of a new year,
its light yet to shine.
Seconds unresolved,
awaiting times’ design.
~
The future shares no clues,
the past our only guide.
Imagination moves us forward.
Darkness is where we hide.
~
Fractions divide realities.
Dawn varies on this sphere.
When your sun arises;
imagine a peaceful new year.

~*~
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