time

Driftwood

~

Built a boat with boards of wood,

made with junk I knew was good.

Drifted on the seven seas,

searching for the birds and bees.

.

Saw new lands; north, east, south and west,

returning home, thought it best.

My ship now sits on a stand,

fearful of the careless hand.

.

Now if this vessel were too to break,

with scraps of wood I will remake.

Fitted then in a case of glass,

reflecting time for all who pass.

.

And if this glass too shall smash,

its shards of glass tossed to the trash.

With broken sticks pulled from within,

my craft of new will then begin.

~*~

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Distractions

~

Oh tiny ant where do you go?

You dash and flitter to and fro

Treading over floor of wood

In search of something surely good?

.

Oh lowly ant what do you seek?

With every rise another peak

With every gap another turn

Oh tiny ant what do you yearn?

.

Burdens weigh upon your back

Up and down your random track

Your only goal to share with all

Yet chances great you will fall

.

Oh lowly ant where did you go?

There are things I need to know

In a blink you disappear

Homeward bound? Or not I fear

.

Oh tiny ant no more to see

Oh lowly ant you are me

~*~

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Untamable

~

Near two centuries standing tall

Perched upon its foundation wall

Stone and rock stacked one at a time

Cracks are filled with mortar and lime

.

Plantings and pruning’s since time’s begun

Nature’s matured, the house and it one

Repairs are always but never to date

A new one’s found just of late

.

It seems there’s a door that escaped my gaze

It’s probably been there for days and days

It welcomed a visitor though I not aware

There’s plenty of room but I’d rather not share

.

A bed was found of rags and fleece

A trap was set for catch and release

The morning came and the trap’s shut tight

Catching the culprit that roams in the night

.

The walk was had on path well worn

Evicting another, my heart is torn

Bound in plastic to hide from the eye

Soon they’ll welcome the bright blue sky

.

With a careful flick and gentle tap

Out popped an alien from its trap

Oh what to do, Oh what to do

The mouse I caught is a shrew

.

Research was done, panic’s at rest

Contemplations had of what will be best

Plans conceived to search for the door

Or wait for winter when the problem’s no more

~*~

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Ever Pending

~

Pending ending

Time’s descending

But look up must I

The past leaves us grounded

Yet the future’s in the sky

*

Pending ending

Life’s transcending

But look forward must I

Despair is all around

But good does never die

*

Pending ending

Love’s remembering

To never forget must I

Endings pending ever change

And alas must I

~*~

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In Periphery

~

Time’s gone before we see

the entirety of periphery.

Viewing life from afar

speeding past in our car.

.

Vistas ever change

in the given range.

Moving pictures pass

rainbows through the glass.

.

Spreading very thin

the less is seen within.

Edges all around

holding sight and sound.

.

Reflections never last

the future comes to fast.

Viewing life from afar

all’s left is the scar.

~*~

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Spirits Count

~

A chorus flesh without minds to teach.

Organs play within arm’s reach.

Letters penned digit free.

Spirit adds and souls see.

Eyes can taste what ears can’t smell.

Lips walk back where legs won’t dwell.

Hands don’t beat the hearts grip.

Lungs do fill with one last sip.

Blood’s bled for freedom’s speech.

Our number’s noted to later preach.

~*~

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Cell to Pad

~

All have stories, few ever tell,

journeys ventured and desires to quell.

Desires quenched and misgivings had,

good tales abound, few ever bad.

~

Temperatures rise and emotions swell,

tightly bound the poet does dwell.

Here words cascade to drown the sad,

ink flows freely I think I’m glad.

~

For if to spiral back into my hollow shell,

where the sea’s only heard is my living hell.

There verses echo of another passing fad,

when only time notes the page we add.

~*~

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Memorial Cliché

~

 A mean and petty old boss I once had,

made threats to all when he was mad.

“My pen’s mightier than the sword!” he’d say

“Bad recommendations will affect your pay.”

He was always looking to pick a fight.

So with my pen I poked him – to find he’s right.

~*~

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Rags & Riches

~

The millionaire poets, no dollars just sense

Their estates so large too big for a fence

With endless pens to harness the needs

Gardens abound grown from their seeds

~

Though time not made with gold on wrist

Dawn awakes when morning kissed

Wealth’s not held it’s how you see

When life’s embrace forever free

~*~

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