work

Tis

Loving’s easy to fall’s hard.
“Tis the life of this old bard”
Futures await a new sunrise.
Honesty’s seen feeling lies.
~
Eyes gaze upon another’s soul.
Walls unscaled take a toll.
When “I love you” whispered,
volume’s to oft heard.
~
The vision’s carried in the heart.
We’re to shed with care, as an art.
A curse, demon, gift or friend,
a love of love can never end.
~
Wheels turn, neutrals unknown.
Reverse a journey and forward’s grown.
Loving’s easy, to find’s hard.
“Tis the life of this old bard”

~*~
SCK110418

Presently Overly Scattered

A thought a glance a word or line.
What will inspire tomorrows’ rhyme?
It could be anguish or love, death or a bug.
Maybe it’s the past, future or running out of time.
~
Or maybe not, sometimes the present forgot.
A mind’s sometime scattered with distraction sublime.
Walls can be high and we leap or crash.
This time time leapt for today’s tomorrow’s rhyme.

~*~
SCK101718

Out of the Woods

Inner roots entrenched un-nurtured.
Branches straggled poetic, undeterred.
Once lost in space above the din,
depths blurred visions within.
*
Years consumed by sheer ambivalence.
The forest’s unseen, unseen for relevance.
The knowable hidden for unknown fear.
Darkness sweeps focus clear.
*
Cloud’s parting from the blues of green.
Sunbeams felt, sky’s now seen.
Whilst logging life milled in rhyme,
nothing’s saved, saved for next time.

~*~
SCK100918

Never Too Late

My darling works early today.
I think of her smiling when on her way.
But I woke up late without a rhyme.
Her alarm will ring and I’m out of time.
.
But those wheels will turn.
And pencils I’ll burn.
Words will appear from the blue,
then rearranged to say “I love you”.
.
I send her a text, her phone will beep.
She’ll reach for it, fresh from sleep.
Her day then starts knowing I care.
And in my heart she’ll always be there.

~*~
SCK082418

Reality

I woke today without a brain
Could be the heat or the rain
Could be the chill or maybe I’m old
Could be work and getting things sold

But as I ponder with coffee nearby
I can see the blue that hides in the sky
It makes me realize all we don’t see
It makes me happy someone loves me

My sweetheart slumbers miles away
But together we’ll be later today
My brain needn’t function to love or feel
And when we kiss these feelings are real

~*~
SCK082118

Morning Triku #173 ~ Occasional Hubrisity

~*~
Just an Expression

At last old enough
for age to be an excuse
to freely express
~

Heads or Tails

With age comes wisdom
but all things are relative
so wise up not ass
~

Poetic License

Deep down a dipshit
lying in wait to squirt forth
and conquer an ode
~

Earth, Wind and Fire

It’s the last haiku
till syllables dance with lines
in three dimensions

~*~
SCK081018

Sun & Clouds

A sunrise missed and my mind’s askew.
Coffee and pencil’s here, but I know not what to do.

My darling sleeps while this morning I write.
And this world awakens from dreams of last night.

I’ve thoughts of love and work, the when and past.
But now the coffee’s cold, cos our time goes fast.

Then scribbled words on the page appear.
Or some cloudy premonitions clearly I fear.

This day’s unsure and maybe more rain.
Thought always we know the sun rises again.

~*~
SCK080518

Leaderlessness

A pad in lap a hand set free.
A mind wanders for words to see.
Emotions enhanced, troubles relieved.
Time unconditional, imagination believed.

Notes of nowhere, deciphering dared.
Scribbles scrawl, reluctance repaired.
Visions doodle in a borderless plane.
Consumed is all in a leaderless reign.

~*~
SCK071218

Purgatory and Main

.
Poetic purgatory’s a place between,
the best of all verse never to be seen.
Visions undefinable, feelings unfelt
and sensations inconceivable, when
squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, squoze,
jumbled noise and random shapes,
blurry sounds and perception escapes.

Normalcy‘s all a part of prose.
Unheard the whispers whose echo grows,
frequency seldom as anyone knows.
Oh no, no, no and so the rhythm comes and goes.
Mind distracted by orderly thought.
Moments rest all for naught.
Escapers of dreams always caught.

Then times sold, image bought and change sought,
until the dollars sign to buy an eternity.
Though sense is never free, so why, why, why –
Why won’t desires die?

~

sck081017

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.

~*~

sck053116