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Fiscal New Year

The mistletoe’s gone for another year.
Alarm bells ringing bring no cheer.
The party’s over, Monday’s arrived,
the holiday’s done, at least I survived.
~
Back to normal I must now go.
Work I must to pay what I owe.
Bills are coming and debts surely grew.
Saving’s diminished; it’s time to make new.
~
Coffee is drunk but the mood is sober.
I’ve interest to pay, maybe done by October.
A resolution I’ve made to end this spree.
But Valentines is coming and gifts there will be.
~
So returns I’ll exchange as sales are waiting,
There are deals galore, no time for debating.
There’s much to do to start this New Year.
Hopefully by spring my plan will be clear.

~*~
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Shardatan

You think you know someone, then they turn.
Their actions are hurtful and cause for concern.
I know you have problems, as we all do.
I too have problems, but I wouldn’t steal from you.
~
I try not to hate, but sometimes it’s hard.
I try to find goodness, no more than a chard.
But when shards get smaller, they’re hard to find.
When shards unfound the friendship’s behind.
~
Your shard is now minuscule, as are you.
You screwed the wrong person, I know what to do.
I’ll do the right thing; that’s no match for a thief.
And when karma befalls, I’ll laugh with relief.

~*~
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Inspirational Choices

Euphoria inspires –
with quills of flyers.
Flourishes unite,
consumed we write.

Paid is the price,
life owed thrice.
Costly is consummation;
self, others or inspiration.

Haunted by desire,
time’s no higher.
Wedges divide,
in space we hide.

Sharing time, hearts and minds,
rightly seen writing blinds.
Is balance a lever to be had,
none ever being sad?

Parts whole, time’s inspired,
forwards given give required.
Love conjures unknowns within,
any choice a choice to begin.

~*~
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Springing Into Action

Mowers, blowers and flame throwers, it’s time to clean my yard.
Spring is here, just once a year, so it’s really not that hard.
Leaves and weeds and other debris will all just disappear.
And it only takes an hour or so, but my neighbors all live in fear.
~
The police get called and a laugh we share, when the yelling’s done.
The officer gave the thrower a try and had never had such fun.
The smoke finally clears; my work is done; it’s time now to relax.
I think I’ll wear shorts today and take off these flame-proof slacks.

~*~
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Keep the Change

Yesterday’s banked, tomorrow’s free.
Value’s relative but worth you’ll see.
Invest yourself and profits soar.
Share goodwill and you’ll get more.
~
Money’s made and money’s lost.
The time that’s spent is the cost.
There are no rain checks or returns.
The change that’s kept is what one earns.
~
Rich or poor, young or old,
forget the bull you’ve been sold.
I’m here to say, without a doubt;
love is what this life’s about.

~*~
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To Two Too

Compelled to create an abstract,
with words yet to exist.
Visions created of realism,
with lines all amiss.

Leaving photographic memories,
questioning negative beliefs.
Setting free thoughts drawn out,
frame-less shapes hung in relief .

Day is night on canvas white,
rainbow palettes breathing life.
The bull’s tempered with a knife.
Clouds grow with strokes of blue.

Heat is felt with a brush of teeth.
Cold repelled under layered coats.
Bloody ink beats forever free.
Pages fill black ultimately.

All is done at infinity,
Beyond now we can’t see
Stories tell meaning depends.
Writing starts abstraction ends.

~*~
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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.

~*~
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Morning Triku #169 ~ Haiku Theoreticallish

haiku theoreticallish

~*~
Our Wrinkle in Time

Work is what we do,
when not doing what we want.
Like death but with pay.

~
Constant Ripples

Time is space between.
Between matters and doesn’t.
Distance less with light.

~
Perpetual Emotion

Love is energy.
Hearts, minds and bodies unite.
Time accelerates.

~*~
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Morning Triku #176 ~ The Bright Side of Gray

~*~

Too Read

Daily poetry
The soothing of a poets heart
But for lover’s not
~

That’s Not Funny

Self-deprecation
Is laughing at our failings
And with good reason
~

Failing to See a Point

No longer obsessed
By success or of failure
I’m used to failure

~*~
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Just Another Thought

Why must I rise so early from bed?
Why don’t the thoughts leave my head?
Why can’t my answers pass the test?
Why do my dreams never rest?
~
Why does every day need a new start?
Why won’t this passion leave my heart?
No, I don’t want to write anymore!
Unless that’s what all this feeling’s for?

~*~
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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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One of Those (many) Days

Ever have a day when nothing goes right?
You get up late from a sleepless night.
The gray surrounds with no refrain.
The day’s chilly with dreary rain.
.
Inhale some eggs with runny yolks.
Now running behind but out of smokes,
detoured to the store to buy some more.
Rush to work, tip toe through the door.
.
But the boss is there, bad news had.
A report’s disappeared, computer’s bad.
The day runs long, no time for lunch.
Tomorrow’s the same, I’ve a hunch.
.
Then finally home but all alone.
Heat’s off and chilled to the bone.
Boiler’s ready, thermostat’s not.
Batteries needed that I forgot.
.
Hunger’s remembered, cupboards bare.
Cereal found, no milk to spare,
so half a box will have to do.
Nights half over, I’m glad it’s through.

~*~
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Clarity in the Looking Glass

No Hocus Pocus,
time’s to focus.
I’ve faced much dread,
dreams again shed.
~
And I’ll rise from the trash,
of once certainties ash.
There poetic ember burns.
Passion is as passion yearns.
~
A phoenix again will rise,
glowing to dry teary yes.
Where risen to a painted sky.
The muse is I.

~*~
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Morning Triku #171 ~ No Roads an Island

Weathering Heights

With beauty comes love.
With nature comes peace of mind.
Both come change with force.
~

Guess Good

Heaven or hell is.
It’s the instant before death.
Pre and post a guess.
~

No End

Running on empty,
writing talk of walk the walk,
while crawling on full.

~*~
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More Love, Less Stress

In times of worry and feeling stress,
when plans made become a mess,
you’ll find the answers no need to guess.
You’re surrounded by friends, no need to regress.
.
Troubling thoughts we will address,
my care for you I’ll gladly express.
Our love will grow stronger, never less.
And when a hug’s needed I’ll always say yes.

~*~
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Ticking

Work is looming,
my mind is zooming.
The clock is no friend.
The day’s yet started,
yet I wish its end.
~
The future’s bright,
if just to fight.
But time does run.
The race beats on,
to the rising sun.
~
The past’s the guide,
gloom’s to subside.
Better moments await.
Tomorrow we’ll see,
if not too late.

~*~
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Moments Monumental

With each day we do learn,
life is more than we yearn.
Responsibilities never end,
more to share and to lend.
~
We give and take for others sake,
returns in kind for us to make.
Care is given when received.
Truth abounds when not deceived.
~
Time propels, weights constrain,
with each second the past we gain.
Hearts and minds of equal measure,
balance stacked for us to treasure.
~
Skies brighten and again to dim.
Stars don’t shine on a whim.
Thinking love, feeling wise,
tomorrow’s I hear are before our eyes.

~*~
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Oddly Bioanalytical

A poet doomed I’ve started believe’n.
The odds it seems much better than even.
T’was born on an even day, month and year.
And I’m a Libra to boot, if you care.
~
An INFP, I think that means I feel stuff.
And if that alone wasn’t enough,
I’m fair of skin, odd of weight and six feet even.
A poet doomed and my name’s even Steven.

~*~
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Writing on Empty

I worry about writing, I worry when not.
I worry too much, I worry a lot.
The past I feel and the future I see.
Factor’s deduced and nothing’s free.
~
Can it be afforded, an unknowable time?
Can life be spent on rhythm and rhyme?
Can I feel without getting hurt?
Can I grow without eating dirt?
~
Chained to my pen, the outside looms.
In dusty volumes this life entombs.
Can pages torn be chapters shared?
If a binding’s broke should fate be dared?
~
Sheets to the wind, covers tossed.
My quill floats off, I am lost.
Paces excel and alter trips forgot.
Will the sunshine burn, I worry a lot.

~*~
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