writing

Get Moving, Slow Down

Old faces with familiar habits,
stare at me from the past.
The memory’s now so far away.
Their lessons now close at last.
~
A wrinkle in time times many,
blur the scars of choice.
The bleeding now in disguise.
The heart now sees its voice.
~
A ticking clock ticks equally.
Its hands know no master.
Moments are for all to share.
The habitual consumed faster.
~
Pontiication’s a double edge sword,
thoughts dissected but time’s cut.
A balance is needed but not to weigh.
But to digest what’s in thy gut.

~*~
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I Would If

If today were to be my first,
where would my path lead?
Would it be a quest for good,
or a race for lust and greed?
~
If today were to be my last,
what regrets must I endure?
Would there be too few to count,
or too many to be sure?
~
If today I could have chosen,
why wouldn’t it be the same?
Would a quiet day with friends be best,
or to suffer tomorrow’s shame.

~*~
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May Be Soon

April showers may bring May flowers.
But it ruined my new suede shoes.
I was going out for a first date,
but now I got the blues.
~
Car wouldn’t start and my bike had a flat.
My cell phone bill was long unpaid.
I walked for nearly an hour,
my nerves tattered and frayed.
~
I got to the movie, it was too late,
my date was nowhere in sight.
I turned around and headed back home.
I was hoping for an end to this night.
~
The rain was getting heavier;
the wind started to blow.
I huddled in an alleyway.
I waited for the storm to go.
~
A policeman stopped, just to check,
making sure I was O K.
I told him the whole story,
every detail of that day.
~
He gave me a lift to my house.
But my keys I had locked inside.
My wallet too was forgotten,
I then went for another ride.
~
I made a call at the station;
my mom must have gone out.
I then retold my story;
the cops looked on with doubt.
~
They stuck me in a crowded cell,
I was tired, wet and cold.
The others asked what I was in for.
My story again was told.
~
Some thought it was funny;
some thought I was a fool.
One said I was cute,
he thought my shoes were cool.
~
I didn’t sleep at all that night,
afraid of what might come.
I shivered there for hours,
my feet were getting numb.
~
My mother finally showed up,
she strolled in at around noon.
She yelled that I should grow up.
I said I may and May can’t come too soon.

~*~
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Distractable

I woke before the sun.
To have my morning fun.
But I couldn’t see my pad.
And my memory’s really bad.
~
I waited for the light.
To free me from the night.
But my pencil disappeared.
And my memory is as feared.
~
I found a piece of chalk.
But then I saw a hawk.
I forgot the task at hand.
I’m sure it would be grand.
~
I took a step outside.
The hawk flew off to hide.
A squirrel then ran past.
Man, are those guys fast!
~
The chalk now is dust.
My morning’s now a bust.
The sun’s now getting high.
And I now wonder why.

~*~
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Morning Triku #178B ~ Change

Cool

A warm winter day,
snows melting, Spring’s on the way.
Good or bad, let’s play.
~

Lukish

Work’s a place to go;
when you can’t afford better,
or work is your life.
~

Heated

When left in the dark,
Most people will light matches.
Then it all burns down.

~*~
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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 in stillness of mind

~*~

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Must Be Love Haikus

It must be love when

passions can’t be expressed in

haiku’s of amore

~

It must be love when

our hearts beat faster by a

footstep at the door

~

It must be love when

broken hearts are aching yet

we love all the more

~

It must be love when

burning hearts blaze hotter than

science can measure

~

It must be love when

our hearts are left shattered yet

chests still hold treasure

~

It must be love when

all life appears inspired

and our hearts feel pure

`

It must be love when

only a greater failure

seems to reassure

`

It must be love when

our hurting hearts are healed with

love – the only cure

~

It must be love when

hearts and minds know not, but it

Must Be Love – for sure

`

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Always Free

~*~

I tried to force a poem today.
But poetry doesn’t work that way.
Seems all my words are kept at bay.
Thoughts simply sculpt what hearts convey.
With wheels unturned can’t play with clay.
That doesn’t mean my mood’s cold and gray.
Or that my feelings for you have gone astray.
Flourishes flounder, neigh to stay.
Gladly “I love you” I can always say.

~*~
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Ten, Nine, Eight …

Much surprised by the calendar today.
Valentines’ is less than a month away.
I’ve thoughts to think and things to buy.
There’s flowers and candy, gladly no pie.
~
I should be ready; it comes every year.
A showing of love to make things clear.
A poem’s expected and that means stress.
My pencil’s dull and my mind’s a mess.
~
The time is short, and my list is long.
I’ve much to do and can’t be wrong.
I love to write but when I choose.
When I’m forced I get the blues.
~
That’s much like life, at least for me.
I’m at my best when I’m free,
sharing a life with my best friend.
We’ll laugh and love until the end.
~
She makes my life a joy to live.
So something special I’ll need to give.
These next few weeks won’t be much fun.
Then again, I might be done.

~*~
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Get the Lead Out

Letters we’ve sent, letters we don’t,
some we regret and some we won’t.
Some we forget, some we obsess,
some move forward, others regress.
~
The future will tell what we choose,
what we keep and the things we lose.
We’re in charge but not always sure,
some will quit while others endure.
~
Love it seems a double edged sword,
piercing the heart where life is stored.
Push too hard and the feelings gone,
though properly placed in we’re drawn.
~
Staying sharp we all can agree;
brings out the best in you and me.
Sharpen your pencils, grab your pad,
connect the dots and you’ll be glad.

~*~
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Morning Triku #63

Too Little Rhyme ~

Life is Poetry

Some is good and some is bad

Most we’ll never see

*

Forever’s Never Last ~

Our writing is the

Exercise that forces us

To live fitfully

*

Con-Tent ~

Home’s where our stuff’s stored

A store is where our stuff’s bought

Bought’s where our heart’s sold

~*~

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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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Almost Optimism

Here’s just another long ass poem,
where pencils wander and minds roam
Wrongly writing a writers spoof,
pretending to act ambivalent and aloof.

Scribbles scribed with thoughts adrift,
begrudging the irony of a weighty gift
A gift when open can amaze and surprise,
when amiss all’s left to despise

Ego and insecurity blend on the page.
The shadows measure, shades gage.
Jumbled words of love, sorrow and joy,
of friendships made or to destroy

Dreams dreamt with eyes shut tight,
while dreams are had in the light.
Time in reflection thoughts bounce then fade.
Intensity’s the source of all that’s made.

Whether hobby, craft, art or obsession,
or a statistically nil reliable profession.
There’s no substitution as far as I can tell,
There’s no on or off switch, no warning bell.

With a drizzle of drudgery and a smatter of haste,
the ink dries anyway, useful or a waste.
When the wining, waling and whimpers wane,
recall and record so something’s to gain.

Just the right words are all that’s required.
Write day and night and be always tired.
And this; not a sonnet or magnificent tome,
but at least it’s another long ass poem.

~*~

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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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Unwritten Sonnet

Thoughts of love, humming notes to an unknown song,

I’ve tried to write it down but the words all came out wrong.

It seems when I think of you all other thoughts go astray.

Emotions and desires jumbled, I can find no words to say.

.

I’ve tried a million times and I’ll try again today,

though time spent together always the better way.

Now pen’s in hand, mindful bliss my heart begins to race,

visions of my fantasy; beauty, elegance and grace.

.

Reminiscent of cascading falls in the jungles of Belize,

the splash of your wavy hair flowing in a summer breeze.

Where rising suns cannot compare to the glow upon your face,

I’m warmed to my very core; the cold has left no trace.

.

With eyes as deep and all-consuming as is the vast Pacific,

their depths so never-ending I can find no phrase specific.

Your subtle lips glistening, a silent language spoken,

still or parted, my semaphore, together I wish unbroken.

.

A brilliance of mind and sharpened wit, a formula to confound

Whilst pure of heart with soulful passions amaze and astound

And when I rest my head to sleep and your image begins to blur,

I envision a ballerina floating through the moonlit air.

.

Touching down on slippered feet, the foundation of my life,

where I’ll dream again of a poem unwritten – for a lovely wife.

~

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Shades of Dark

Sonnets of emotion; love and devotion

Poetry of gloom and despair

Words that swell from within

Seeping doubt and fear

.

Alas the pen will scrape the bottom

Of the well I wish to dry

But brittle, little shards of black

Have crusted in my eye

.

Tears will form, puddles made

And ink again will flow

Pools crinkle up my sheets

The sunrise makes them glow

.

Perhaps today a limerick

A laugh to share with all

Or maybe a teeny tiny Haiku

Powerful yet small

.

The mornings bring answers

Always something new

But as the day brightens

I find I have no clue

.

The sun is high and I am low

Waiting for the night

There I’ll share my world with demons

Where the dark share equal sight

.

~*~

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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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