Don’t Know

I need a formula to know when best to write.
I write randomly most every day and night.
Rarely is it very good but sometimes it’s all right.


In search of inspiration everywhere I go.
Some hit in an instant, some never show.
Moods always vary as the poems reflect.
The good and bad, I think are quite easy to detect.


Sometime when feeling good I’ve nothing good to write.
That ticks me off assuring a terrible night.
But when feeling down writing helps me feel all right.


Yet the time is spent either way,
though always writing of yesterday.
Where’s the balance, it’s there I’ll go.
So if anybody knows, please let me know.


don’t read this

Nearing the pit of the pendulums’ path

Forces of nature care not of their wrath

The weight of the world pivots within

Knows not when to stop or where to begin


The highs never reaching a stable peak

These highs too high to which I seek

Delves of darkness seem never to end

Rises resisted rapidly descend


Familiar patterns now drawn in time

Thus manifested in delusional rhyme

With feathered hand to soar and blind

To my ravenous return of stillness in mind



Closed (temporarily)

Due to insecurity

This life of mine cannot be free

Brain’s cluttered with negative stuff

This uphill charge – I’ve had enough


Words all mean different things

Too many choices a sentence brings

Paragraphs explode exponentially

Random letters pour down on me


The sun comes out, I work indoors

On my day off it rains for sure

All my pencils say “NO” today

They too are tired of writing gray


My mind now wanders to parts unknown

Surrounded by friends, feeling alone

With aging body and child’s mind

A place to fit I’ve yet to find


I’m sorry for wasting your precious time

I guess it best to end this rhyme



Tick, Tock, Tick…

Once upon a time, almost never twice
You chance upon something, feels real nice
It makes you feel better than you really are
All wounds seem to heal, leaving little scar


Time passes, cracks begin to show
Cuts re-open; ooze, fester and flow
Till’ hands pure re-mold the cast
Mind’s reset, ticking fast


Bells ring, rings true
True’s just another shade of blue
Blue bells, bells ring, birds sing
Trees to swing, around again to spring


Ride the arc, end the wait, start the climb
Rise and fall, once again, upon this time
The ground is hard, the heavens nice
Journey’s there, never twice



Poetry in Mime

                              ,                    .
                  ,                   –                 .

              ,                  ,                   .


A Cynic View

I warn you now I have no clue

Where this poem is going to

Or if it is a poem at all

I can’t decide, you make the call


Trees fallen for me to rhyme

Till out of space, bounds, breath and time

Out to lunch and there I’ll join you

We’ll rearrange words on life’s menu


Time is free, food is not

Sleep spent in dollars per spot

Feet walk, wheels run

Hands make wings to the sun


Voices singing for all who hear

Through buds growing in the ear

Tiny wires dangle from there

Yet no-one seems to give a care


With tablet and Wi-Fi at the ready

Media replaced good ole teddy

Designer binkies between the lips

Smartphones at the fingertips


Toddlers hunched, stroller bound

Multi cup-holders and Dolby sound

Of course a visor to shield the sun

The big glowing face that was once fun


Now a menace to one and all

Best to stay in until the fall

When leafy suburbs bags abound

Full of leaves, once on the ground


Cleared from lawns to keep them green

Exchanged with poisons in-between

Until the snow, when all’s forgotten

Of summer days way back when


When sunny skies made all seem bright

Laughter filling playful moonlight

Now games played with only thumbs

Killing the most for the biggest sums


Some might win the rest will lose

Most can’t, but some will choose

Now we’ve all a choice to make

Was it ever real or just a real fake?


Or if it ever will be, or ever was

Or just maybe it is – just because



Springs Both Ways

My grass gets tall, I don’t care
My neighbor’s old, I have no fear
A porch to sit, a pen to push
A comfy cushion for my tush


Singing birdies in the bush
A barking dog, I whisper “shush”
A gentle breeze across my face
A stolen moment from the human race


My mind’s racing to outer-space
Thoughts flowing at breakneck pace
A blink of an eye, I hit a wall
My brain is blank, nothing at all