writing

Virtual Mistletoe

It’s time for another Christmas poem,
cos it’s that time of year.
It’s to be filled with good will,
love and holiday cheer.
*
I could write about Santa,
with his busy little elves,
maybe an ode to their toys,
now cluttering my shelves.
*
I can get sappy for a tree,
our little spire of light,
I could rhyme about nothing,
as I do every night.
*
My purpose was clear,
at the start of this poem.
Blessings received I was to emote,
but that’d be a tome.
*
So now I’ll just end with good will to send.
Happy holidays to all, to all a good friend.
May your new year be one to transcend.
And a kiss to some, but that’ll depend.

~*~
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Ribbons and Bows

The season is upon us,
Christmas is almost here.
Trees are going up,
lights are everywhere.
~
Stores are getting crowded,
traffic’s now a mess.
Shoppers fill the streets,
more than I would guess.
~
Some lists are getting shorter,
mine has far to go.
But no time to worry,
I hope it doesn’t snow!
~
Kids are getting excited;
they know the day is near.
Adults too are frazzled,
overwhelmed by all the cheer.
~
There’re stockings to be filled,
then stockings to explore.
Goodies there are waiting,
a welcome end for sure.

~*~
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Holinight

Pumpkins on the steps,
gravestones on the lawn,
ghouls dancing in the yard.
Keep out before the dawn!
~
Soon it will be the day,
my favorite of the year.
Kids running in the streets,
we’ve treats we love to share.
~
Don’t forget the costumes,
this year I’m a queen.
Mom gave me her wig,
and dad’s not too keen.
~
My brother is a cowboy,
he’s the same every time.
He likes to wear the badge;
in case there is a crime.
~
My dog wears a bow,
it’s black for Halloween.
His bark is really scary,
but he’s never really mean.
~
We’ll go out after supper,
when the sun is going down.
We’ll meet up with a friend;
she just moved into town.
~
I showed her the best streets;
our bags could hold no more.
We all then hurried home,
we didn’t miss a door.
~
Mom will sort our treats;
my brother plays his tricks.
I save the licorice,
and dad likes a mix.

~*~
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The Fallen

Summer love leads to fall.
Autumnal changes effects all.
Leaves turn, soon to drop.
Life moves on and won’t stop.
.
Chills felt to the bone.
Warmth’s gone when alone.
Seasons cycle as they must.
Tomorrows come, we have to trust.
.
Truth felt in the heart.
Minds make lies art.
Sleep’s unknown for many a night.
Sadness fills each line I write.
.
If not loved a future is to find.
If not a poet, perhaps then blind.
Hues created we want to see.
Now the fall’s here for you and me.

~*~
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Startin’

Oh, what to do, oh what to do?
My day is free, and the sky is blue.
There’s chores to do, my list is long.
My old guitar needs a new song.
~
I’ve coffee for sippin’, a chair for sittin’,
and that morning sun’s warmin’ my heart.
The birds are singin’ and peace it’s bringin’,
so far, a mesmerizin’ start.

~*~
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Ships Log 102418.2

The seas choppy there’s no port in sight.
A paradise found disappeared overnight.
Alone on the bridge now’s time to reflect.
When a course assured why reject?

Charts bear no point with a destination behind.
And the oceans small in space I find.
A tern overhead I’ve still to hope.
For the sailor, line’s life, there is no rope.

~*~
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Blips

I’m sick of heartbreak; it’s time to move past.
But this isn’t a love poem, that’d be too fast.
I won’t be pondering heaven or hell.
So where does a recovering poet dwell.
~
Whether writers block or writer’s cramp,
a king of yore or disheveled tramp,
I’ve a reign of reams at my command.
I’ve time and space in my hand.
~
I’ve a rocket ship that’s faster than light.
I dance with spirits in the night.
I’ve helmed a ship through stormy seas,
wrestled a friend in a hive of bees.
~
I’ve felt love and feel it missed.
A new day’s today and sunshine kissed.
And though this poem has no middle or end,
it’s a blip in cyberspace, again to send.

~*~
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On a Roll

Her scent lingers, I flushed away.
I sense the push of another shitty day.
She polluted my mind and soiled my bed.
Leave me alone, get out of my head!
~
We fed our needs and ate our cake.
Her outside sweet, her inside’s fake.
Her taste and touch I felt were real.
Now pinched cheeks is all I feel.
~
My hand shades so not so crass,
this burst of gas I hope to pass.
And groan some notes for a while,
refreshing again this steaming pile.
~
Time trickles naturally.
But stand I must eventually.
A gentle pull will clear the residue.
Her memory wiped but some sticks like glue.

~*~
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Sticks and Stones

Just a stick of wood,
that feels so good.
A pencil awaits a hand,
for alone it can not stand.
And lie it never should.
~
With paper it melds,
emotion thus swells.
Then feeling as should,
the lines understood.
And life’s pokes it quells.
~
The mind set free,
the future we see.
The past that is earned,
a new leaf is turned.
But breaks will always be.

~*~
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Morning Triku #175 ~ Second Period

Choose Choice

Life’s multiple choice
Our answers lessen with time
Questions grow harder
~

Schooled

Fears prevail feared
Tomorrow’s today’s earned
All will rise, some learned

~
Chances Are

Life is bad when sad
Or grand when on clouds we stand
And glad for the hand

~*~
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Skipper’s Lane

Around the bend from the church on main,
lies a quaint little street, called Skipper’s Lane.
T’was on this path a young lad dwelled,
before the streets’ name or the lad propelled.
~
The tale goes: At the head of a cove the sandbar’s long.
The water’s choppy and the currents strong.
A young lad fished, he netted all day.
At sunset he rowed to the town up the bay.
~
He traded his catch for supplies and some cash.
He then rowed back home and buried his stash.
Years soon passed and the lad’s now a man.
The time was now to dig up an old can.
~
The cans held his savings, he’s more than a few.
The man, now called Netty, had something to do.
Netty rowed into town, to buy but not sell.
He bought a new boat with a bright shiny bell.
~
He towed the boat home not knowing how to sail.
A year’s practice behind then caught in a gale.
Netty stayed calm, his life, spent afloat.
Home was in sight when he saw a tossed boat.
~
The boat missed the inlet, now blowing out to sea.
Though Netty unsure, he could not leave them be.
Adjusting his sails Netty raced to give aid.
Soaked and battered he would not be afraid.
~
Lost memories filled young Netty’s head.
Recalling the night, he was almost dead.
The sky was black and the water cold.
The ship sat heavy, filled with gold.
~
Remembering screams and cracking wood,
the ship’s bell rang, gone childhood.
The boy hit the water and woke on the shore.
The life he once knew was no more.
~
A crashing wave broke Netty’s trance,
one second more he’d lose his chance.
He leaned on his tiller to bring his boat near.
The boats colliding mustered everyone’s fear.
~
Netty thought quickly and dropped his sheet,
then heaved his net around a cleat.
He pulled and pulled with all his might.
His biggest catch was that stormy night.
~
All returned safely before the sun rose.
Netty now a hero was gifted new clothes.
New friends were made, now one’s Netty’s wife.
Recounting his memories he bought a new life.
~
The gold recovered, Netty bought lots of land.
He built a grand home well away from the sand.
The harbor in view he watches over his fleet.
The town, now prosperous, gave Netty a street.

~*~
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Persistent

In this time of “writer’s block”,
I stare blankly at paper and clock.
With jumbled prose I try to think,
should life be guided by pen and ink?
~
Does a rhyme decide a story’s path?
Can a re-verse save us from the wrath?
The day is young; there are things to do,
but the sky’s gray with a snowy hue.
~
The air is cold, I’ll assume,
my spirit’s locked within a room.
Doors will open if I choose.
When all’s lost there’s none to lose.
~
Persistence colors the choices we make.
Is persistence for persistence sake?
Do we persist simply to win?
If direction’s unclear should we begin?
~
Like life, love, thought and art,
questions unanswered are the start.
Life ticks forward with us or without.
Thoughts will be shared without a doubt.
~
Art will be made with all the thoughts had.
And love makes life happy but also sad.
Dilemma’s obscure visions true.
A vision obscures my dilemma new.
~
I’m seeking an end to what’s now fraught.
The past’s the lesson of what’s been taught.
And like life, love, thought and art,
ends shade poetic an open heart.

~*~
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Celestial Time

Embers fade, waning moon

Sounds of day coming soon

Nights of bliss with our love

Counting stars that dance above

*

Sharing secrets from the past

Recalling joy that didn’t last

Time’s treasured in the dark

Horizons clear with the rising arc

*

By day we grow, eves recede

Priorities given to what we need

Quills in hand, arm in arm we’ll fly

Soaring and diving in the endless sky

*

In search of a hilltop on which to lie

It is here I’d wish to die

To rest and ponder life’s miracle

Where the arc becomes full circle

~*~

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Need

The more we have, the more we need

The more we want the more the greed

Living lives consumed consuming

Conned intoTo dwell in a time lush and green debt for things amusing

*

Day by day we run in place

Tracks grow longer on our face

The wheels of commerce set the pace

Rolling over this human race

*

Blinded by labels to make us feel

Sculpted by images to make us real

In the darkness all are blind

Disappearing piece of mind

*

To dwell in a time lush and green

The futures blight not yet seen

Waters’ pure cascading clean

Paths uncluttered, bodies lean

*

Family and friends share to survive

Living life to be alive

Preserving futures, planting seed

Thus is all we really need

~*~

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We the People

~
The Me’s huddled tightly with family alert.
The We’s frolicked freely enjoying dessert.
The Me’s distrustful, their interests first.
The We’s collaborative quenching their thirst.

The Me’s too aligned ruled by a book.
The We’s had comforts the Me’s came and took.
The Me’s dispersed hiding their joy.
The We’s shared all with each girl and boy.

The Me’s sought power devising the divide.
The We’s found solace in a land far and wide.
The Me’s dictate that all is for “Me”
The logic dictates all me’s become we.

.
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Contrasts

I need a new color or maybe a sound.
I need something to get my head off the ground.
High in the clouds is where I should be.
Soaring with eagles; majestic and free.
~
Exploring a world where peace is the norm.
A place where everyone survives the storm.
A place where kids all laugh and parents sing.
Where old folks still giggle on the backyard swing.
~
We’ve no need for bombs, guns or war.
We’ll all have love, can’t hurt, can cure.
Oh, What a place this world could be.
If only that eagle, were you and me.

~*~
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