Forest of Hell

Colorless leaf crackle beneath sole-less feet.

The smell of death lingers sweet.

Bramble thick draws blood on paper skin,

digging more deeply the deeper within.

 *

Then starlight fades to the darkness I fear,

moonlight shadows disappear.

Columns abound supporting endless night,

numbers multiply consuming the light.

 *

Welcome dew hangs heavy in unseen air,

to drink deep I do not dare.

Outstretched hands replace teary useless eyes.

Senses heightened, alert of endless cries.

 *

Vibrations of night; soft, loud, far and near,

distant from all, we all hold dear.

Wanting now only to curl-up and weep,

my soul is still for the sickle to reap.

 *

Return to the path I lost yesterday,

blackness turns slowly to gray.

Long nights journey in the forest of hell,

surviving again, except for my shell.

 *

The End

*

sck~ c.2014

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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Hapiphany

I think I had a hapiphany,
an epiphany of living happily.
It’s the manifestation of all things good.
And living the life I know we should.
~
Surrounded by loved ones and good friends,
my face hurts a little cos the smiling never ends.
I wake each morning eager to rise,
I watch light fill the starry night skies.
~
But with the good comes the bad,
I read the news and feel real sad.
So I write of love, joy and bliss.
Then I run upstairs for the day’s first kiss.
~
While my angel slumbers peacefully,
I rearrange animals to make room for me.
Then I slip back in bed with never a peep.
I’ll kiss her shoulder till the end of her sleep.
~
Good morning, I love you” are the first words she’ll hear.
She’ll then pull me closer with warmth to share.
She’ll open her eyes and “I love you” returned.
And a great day has started from all that I’ve learned.

~*~
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The Ends

I wrote a poem called yesterday when I was not so old.
I wrinkled it up and threw it away because the story’s been told.
I could write about tomorrow but the end would be a guess.
I could share some happy thoughts but what if the end’s a mess.
~
I could just write something simple and I’ll name it today.
Although this day’s not over yet so far it’s been OK.
So I’ll let you know soon how my little poem worked out.
It could be short or too long but an end there is no doubt.

~*~
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In the Shadow of Windmill Cottage

Behold this welcome image.
Where a hill rises from a bay.
There a tiny sheltered village lay.
All in the shadow of Windmill Cottage.
Steady breeze most every day.
~
Sails from afar spill their goodwill.
From their nets sea treasure abound.
Farms thrive above on fertile ground.
Good fortune trickles down the hill.
Sea birds fill the air with sound.
~
Ancient timbers shade from lofty stage.
Labored grain grows upward at the season’s rate.
Winds howl, warmth’s aglow on the hill top grate.
Flour flows freely down from Windmill Cottage.
Where nature’s breath spins the wheel of a poets estate.
~
He attends happily to familiar chores.
Quarterly ledgers bulge beneath waistcoat fair.
His quarterly journey to the bankers’ lair.
His shadow alone opens Main Street doors.
Harvest moon will guide homeward the fortunate heir.
~
Dusk creeps up as day slips by.
Modest and ordered with nothing ablaze.
Must avoid the many scrupulous gaze.
In the shadows inhibitions die.
A visit with strangers, heads all a daze.
~
Journey’s end in darkness where hill meets bay.
Tufted coaches dash the posh up to their inns.
Others huddle by fire pits drinking homemade gins.
The trades of the night swap those of day.
Church bells echo, atoning for their sins.
~
Just another blurry face on the wooden shores.
Where the day’s death lingers and ships bells ring.
Taverns fill, ale flows and drunken sailors sing.
Fiddles play and jigs are had on the dirty floors.
Habitual killers all, Oh what joy they bring

~

Few will stay, most homeward bound.
Some laugh loudly while others cry.
Some will fight, some will die.
In search of peace to be found –
In the deep or endless sky.
~
Faceless comfort fills empty space.
Men with silver are sick for a day.
Boys with gold suffer years away.
Moonlit romance lingers on perfumed lace.
Then life’s anew beyond the tiny bay.
~
Sharing much common thread,
In this moment “ brothers all.
Whale lamps flicker on sooty wall
Making friends while breaking bread.
All await the Bosun’s call.
~
In a corner where shadows overlap.
The poet searches for his light,
Where the day’s brew flows all night.
Safe, for now from his hilltop trap,
Layers of darkness, out of sight.
~
Behold this most unwelcome image.
The seat no more where the poet presides.
Now in his shadow a filthy little demon hides.
Return not quenched to Windmill Cottage –
And wait again for the new moon tides?
~
Lonely candle spews depth on a lonely face.
Unseen pests sing their unwanted song,
The scent of time ticking long.
His travels must be many, all left a trace.
In the darkness our senses strong.
~
Hat brim low to hide his shame.
The poet stutters with utter surprise.
The traveler snickers, doesn’t rise.
With sideways glance he asks the poets name.
Honestly answered by the fear in his eyes.
~
When after long hesitation a hasty reply ”
“A traveler like you” was all that he said.
But after some ale the silence was dead.
Yard by yard many distant words fly.
Palettes grow when faces shade red.
~
Cider was next and followed by rum.
The traveler’s tales all told in prose.
The wetter the lips the faster it flows.
Hated by most, loved by some.
That’s how a traveler’s life often goes.

~

The poet a rather tall fellow.
The traveler a poet by name.
So many ports traveled they all looked the same.
His heart pumped blue, the poet gay and mellow.
Opposite sides of a coin, no one is to blame.
~
“With little time to hone a craft –
With a draft from an open door.
To close then return no-more.
To open then evermore – the draft.
Spirits gone, gone the craft – nevermore.”
~
What dribble do you speak my friend?
The poet inquired in disgusted tone.
“The dribble I think when thirsty and alone.”
The traveler quipped with message to send.
I’ll tell you another, that’s my own.
~
“Silent words are never heard –
The voiceless poet stuttered.
Repeated babble muttered.
His rhymes always sputtered.
More mindless words would be absurd.
~
The air he breathed was glutted.
His helm so poorly ruddered.
His shirts all heavily buttered.
From his many toasts self-uttered.
His mind so free and uncluttered.
~
His weaknesses many and unobserved.
Blinded to the Reaper’s shadow – deserved.
Soon the voiceless poet will be unheard.
Then blissful quiet on his paths wandered.
His welcome silence – forever heard.”
~
Drunken rabble roared with delight.
The poet withered belittled.
The traveler’s attention fizzled.
When laudanum’s sipped out of sight.
The poet escaped most grizzled.
~
Out of the dark into the night.
Bellowing air; cold, wet and starless.
His poisoned lips know no finesse.
His state of mind out of time – not right.
The poet’s mind wanders aimless.
~
The traveler tucked snugly in his bunk.
With help from many new joyous fan.
All loved the howls of this traveled Wild-man.
His tales make perfect sense “ drunk.
The favorite carried and the pompous ass ran.
~
Boot heals clack on cobble slick.
While stallion slumbers atop golden bed.
The poet stumbles upward with achy head.
If only to have his gilt throat-ed stick.
This shadowy path he may be found dead.
~
The wind that is my fortune is slowly killing me.
This hill of heritage too high for me to climb.
With forceful push from the hands of time.
Drawing me back to a frigid sea.
My misery oh-so great ” it is oh-so sublime.
~
Head tucked low, bottom up always slow.
Darkness wanes to purples then red.
Day is born, horrors of the night soon dead.
Hands and knees bloodied and bruised – falls of woe.
Alas the bodies of servants to guide to downy bed.
~
Winter’s behind, graven plans regress.
Fevered sleep past, shadows of death dawdle.
Summer awaits, the poet’s lessons dwindle.
His magnum opus went off to press.
Journey to Main Street, praise to guzzle.
~
Surveying high atop his magnificent mount.
The poet exclaimed “behold this welcome image”
Deceived by the bustle, not he the homage.
But a tome by a worldly traveler – no doubt.
It was “In the Shadow of Windmill Cottage”
~*~
The End

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Status Quo

I’ve got nothing to say,
but that’s OK,
maybe again tomorrow.
~
I’ve no new ideas,
observations or fears,
no places I plan to go.
~
I’ve got coffee to drink,
a place to think,
but my thoughts a definite no-show.
~
So I’ll sit and just wait,
it’s never too late,
something will come I know.
~
With the sun now bright,
I see the light,
words now starting to flow.
~
My poem’s now done,
it’s silly but fun,
my face’s now all aglow.
~
So good morning to you,
and whatever you do,
do it with vigor and gusto.

~*~
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Black and White

Mornings give light.
Emotion fills night.
Eyes force sight.
Legs flee plight.
.
Opinions oft slight.
Truth’s never quite.
Souls know right.
Minds will fight.
.
Hearts feel blight.
Tomorrows bring fright.
Yesterday lends insight.
Fortitude means might.
.
Sparks do ignite.
Love shines bright.
Hands do write.
Life’s to delight.

~*~
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Morning Triku #70 – Abstaction

Has a Ball

.

What surrounds us all;

Warms, chills, cries – never dies?

Ever changing skies

 

 ~

Fusion

 .

Old flames reunite

Fueled and mingling freely

When all becomes ash

~

Merry-Go-Round

.

Around and around

We all go, around what is

What I’d like to know

~*~

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Anatomicalatomicgalactica

Electrons float in endless flight.
Space’s gray, no day or night.
Infinity lurks out of sight.
.
Elements blend or violently clash.
Random moment’s atoms smash.
Fusion bonds fission’s ash.
.
Core pulls, heat spurred.
Nucleus form, orbits dared.
Love holds a time shared.

~*~
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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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The Good, the Bad and the Lovely

Your daily greeting I wouldn’t miss.
This morning’s message comes with a kiss.
With a smile I wake, thanks to you.
The smile felt the whole day through.

And though this poem’s not my best,
tomorrows may beat all the rest.
And if not then I’ll try every day,
to express the love I find hard to say.

~*~
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Morning Magic

Another blank page looks back at me.
Dreams now sleep and the sun’s to see.
My love slumbers a flight away.
When she rises I’ll start my day.
~
I long to see her glowing smile,
I smile back and stare awhile.
A kiss is next and our day’s begun,
our mornings together always fun.
~
We sip our coffee and chat a bit.
Work is looming but little’s writ.
Minds now settled and thought’s clear.
Then the page fills with love we share.

~*~
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Carved in Stone

wickford cove

We’ve dinner on the bay.
The sunset’s on its way.
Evening spent at home,
a page of our life’s tome.
.
I’ve visions of our time,
I write for you in rhyme.
Words I present to you,
to show my love is true.
.
You’re always on my mind,
because you’re sweet and kind.
Your smile lets me know,
that our love will grow.
.
Your touch warms my heart.
Each day’s a brand new start.
And when this day does end,
a sonnet I shall send.
.
These poems that I share,
is to show you that I care.
These words that you read,
is to know your love I need.

~*~
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Imagine That

Imagine that, I’ve nothing to write.
I got up early and stayed up all night.
So I’ll make something up, if that’s OK.
I’ll probably live it some other day.
~
It could be happy or it could be sad.
It could be of some old adventure had.
I’m sure there’ll be others and why not.
Though most quite small, I’ve had a lot.
~
Perhaps a poet imagined that lives on a hill.
They’ll watch the sunrise and do what they will.
That might be good for a poem or two,
or maybe a love sonnet, maybe a few.
~
With these pages hands turned with time,
each face a story, each await their rhyme.
Each chapter has its title, the next to depend.
Tho thy tome grows heavy, I wish it no end.
~
I’ll imagine a tomorrow when something’s to write.
I’ll get up early and stay up all night.

~*~
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The Poet Tree

Seeds afloat seeking unfamiliar ground

A mother’s warmth to be found

Love is rained from parental cloud

Bed is rich beneath the shroud

*

Father’s push from dark to light

Growth by day and shadows of night

Journeys upward to infinite skies

A world anew to saplings eyes

*

Soaring towards the sun-gods call

Arms outstretched embracing all

Colors change, soon to flee

Naked spires looming free

*

Twigs share times weighty strife.

A forest of one can have no life

Seasoned words of maturity

Nature’s view atop the poet tree

*

The End

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Be the Wind

The will of the wind with the air that be,

summons the roar from a silent sea.

When this air too shall roar,

a mighty sea bombards a shore

~

When the wind and sea collude-

all’s consumed all the more.

Can a roaring wind be silenced-

 or will it roar for evermore?

~

A question answered best in rhyme;

The shores are life, the sea is time.

The air is those around us, crying to be free.

And the wind with its will – a roaring poet be.

*

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My Masterpiece

My_Masterpiece

I feel a masterpiece is on the way.
But don’t look now, it’s not today.
I’ll write it all in a lyrical rhyme.
I’ll write of joy and precious time.
.
I’ll write of life and of love.
I’ll write of stars that shine above.
I’ll write of places that we’ve seen.
And the quiet times in between.
.
We’ve delightful dinners with lovely views,
and our times together with no shoes.
I’ll write of walks in the sand.
I’ll write of sunsets hand in hand.
.
I feel this masterpiece is well underway.
I feel it growing every day.
Now volumes I’ll write of loving you.
With a lifetime ahead before it’s through.

~*~
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Lyrically Loopy

It begins a story without an end.
It’s a tale untold but it will be penned.
There may be no heroes or villains to see.
It could be written for you or me.
~
It might be a song or poetry.
It may be undervalued but never free.
It could be too short but can’t be too long.
Perspectives vary between right and wrong.
~
While some chapters weak others will be strong.
Some may possibly rise above the throng.
Some parts will be happy, some will be sad.
There will always be both but that’s not so bad.
~
Note always the things that make you glad.
Notice the trends that aren’t just a fad.
Honest words lived you’ll need never defend.
And when the cover closes you will transcend.

~*~
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The Return

Outside my window perched in a tree
Tis a winged demon that caws at me
At me it caws and caws all day
Till darkness consumes then caws go away

Tis then a candle lit, awaiting peace
Creative spark await release
The hourly chime hourly chides
This spark within creatively hides

Searching I pace in this tiny room
From shadow to shadow returning to gloom
Going in circles around in a square
Till wearily I slump back into my chair

Through random lacy limbs I spy the moon
With gentle breezes the patterns I swoon
Patterns swooning dance on dingy walls
The net surrounds and the demon calls

Consciousness concedes, silence relieves
In the dark the dark the mind believes
Rest and wait or rise and scream
Choices few at the edge of a dream

Wax drippings lapping pages bled
Of serpentine spine and heavy head
Blackness cloaks the demons night
Their quills aplenty shade the light

Demon, oh demon please let me be
Yet still they tap, tapping for me
Tap tap tapping on my foggy pane
Tap, tap tapping with no refrain

Without refrain demons tap in kind
Tapping demons tap, tapping my mind
Is this tapping, tapping to remind?
Or is it tapping to seek and find?

Oh demon cloaked with hidden face
To take from you is my disgrace
Your gifts adored left on my sill
Yet to rest on your back I am still

To be only still is reverse
Dive or fall, a lover’s curse
To soar or sink is to immerse
The spirit wishes to guide the verse

This spirit and I of common goal
Each to rise from the hole
One to fly, one to scratch and claw
Each may fall, one to caw, caw, caw

Our bond’s made to find a link
If to trade my soul I wish to think
I wish to think another’s ink
Of golden quills and wine to drink

In gilded glass I wish to wink
Then step away until I shrink
Till all is gone with a blink
But for the ink, I wish to think

I think I think, I think I see
I think I see light shines on me
Sight and sound now distortion free
The path’s clear toward tranquility

If to be a final rest, now’s to be the time
Drifting in an open mind is to be sublime
Or if to rise and most joyfully find
I’ve awakened as a different kind

To be warm of heart and cool of mind
Forward moving and never behind
Of filigree hands to align and chime
Tis then the taps return, tapping in time

Taps on the window from arms of the past
To embrace their grip the future’s cast
When cracks appear in my shield of glazing
The demon swoops for the dawns hazing

With inky beak and beating wings
Caw, caw, caw the demon sings
They dance upon the empty pages
Quills ablaze their fire rages

Then morning breaks the lidded seal
Illuminating all thought real
Am I to be taken or to consume?
Or wake to sunlight returning to gloom

Betwixt the shadows exposed by the light
Tis demons craft conjured last night
With nary a blotch nor stroke askew
Flawless leaf scribed by I know not who

I dare not share these words unknown
Through my window they have flown
The prize of demons cawing in a tree
Thus return I must this gift given me

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Pondering Perfection

I lay awake throughout the night,
ponder do I of what to write.
The morning comes and again I rise.
The page sits blank before my eyes.
~
My head’s foggy the skies clear,
air’s cool and autumn’s near.
My love slumbers, her heat I feel.
My heart warms to what’s now real.
~
A morning ritual loved so much;
I kiss her forehead with a gentle touch.
Hours to pass for her to rise,
a poem awaits her sleepy eyes.
~
Smiles and kisses we then share.
Our need for each other we’re much aware.
My mind now settled and troubles cease.
Another day’s begun with love, joy and peace.

~*~
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