writing

Resolute

My buttocks hurt and my knuckles crack.
What drives me forward can drag me back.
My eyes are tired and my head is sore.
My hands are cramped, I can write no more.
~
My pages are filled with useless stuff.
And one more verse is never enough.
Pencils grow dull as does my brain.
But each day silent leaves a stain.
~
Though deep down I know the truth.
The haunt persists from my youth.
I’ve something to say, but what is unclear.
Answers will come but not this year.
~
A resolution needed this time around.
Try harder I must for I am bound.
The calendar says I’m almost there.
Glasses raised a toast we’ll share.
~
A new day begins with much to do.
Sunnier thoughts will eclipse the blue.
A cushion I’ll buy for my favorite chair.
Words will flow like a breath of fresh air.
~
Volumes will fill with the funniest of lines.
A chapter reserved for my sweet valentines.
I’ll rise from sleep as each day’s the first.
I’ll sip my coffee then quench my thirst.
~
Reflecting upon the time long past,
how the future sneaks up too fast.
And if nothing to leave advice I can give.
“Live out your dreams and a dream you shall live.”

~*~
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Pushed Pulled Profundary

In search of a new aesthetic,
I’m waxing a wanning poetic.
The ups and downs prophetic,
the results sometimes pathetic.
~
The sun has now fully risen,
I’m trapped in my mind’s own prison.
Bound to a rickety mizzen,
today’s breeze has yet arisen.
~
In blissful times I long to be,
up in the clouds I feel free.
On earth I’m just another me,
sink or swim’s the rule of the sea.
~
But rules were meant to be broken,
this cliché’s this breaker’s token.
Pathetic penning awoken,
though words are louder when spoken.
~
So, I’ll scream all day if I must,
options usually boom or bust.
Passion is both love and lust,
poetry is and sometimes just.

~*~
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Too Many Words

Dreams lie,
poets cry.
Change’s new,
writing’s blue.
Hearts torn,
minds worn.
Sleepless nights,
emotion ignites.
Passion’s hot,
indecision’s not.
Seeking clues,
negativity spews.
Future’s debatable,
perfection’s unattainable.
Happiness eludes,
fear exudes.
Trust questioned,
turmoil’s destined.
Bodies tired,
decision’s required.
Feelings askew,
answers few.
Love shared,
time’s dared.
Yesterday’s die,
tomorrows fly.
Today’s through.
What am I to do?

~*~
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Sunny Monday

Stuck inside my head today, it’s not a good place to be.
It gets pretty lonely in here, just me and me.

A place so dark, blues are bright.
My body aches, yet alone I fight.
The same million thoughts all run around.
The same old shit knocks me to the ground.

A door is here.
I know somewhere.

I’ll bang my head around one more time.
A crack may appear, again I’ll rhyme.
Again I’ll love, again I’ll care.
Again I’m free, but do I dare.

Static by day and charge by night,
two negatives don’t make a right.

But sleep will come eventually.
Work will follow unfortunately.
Then home again alone with me,
my Monday night mystery, yet to be.

~*~
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Damn

Awakened by a dream of dawn,
sunshine beckons a brand new day.
Alas to find my words are gone,
a nightmare dark has found its way.
~
My darling slumbers peacefully,
awaiting her daily verse.
There my joy’s writ for her to see,
yet I suffer the poet’s curse.
~
My only wish is to make her smile,
returning the love she’s given.
And to make her laugh for a while,
curse be damned, this heart is driven.

~*~
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Fluff n’ Stuff

My mind is blank and I don’t know why.
I watched the sun rise in the sky.
I’ve got my pencil and a pad.
The day’s bright and temp’s not bad.
~
The news is filled with lots of stuff.
Some of it’s scary but most just fluff.
Life is good, I can’t complain.
I feel great, I have no pain.
~
I’ve things to do and the list is long.
Or do nothing but that feels wrong.
I’m not too bothered when I can’t write.
I might tomorrow if not tonight.
~
Just a start is usually all I need,
a couple of words to plant the seed.
Then the wheels turn and the page is filled.
Good or bad, again I’m thrilled.
~
So I’ll keep you posted as to my progress.
Hopefully I’ll have success.
But if not, that too is OK.
I’ll say good morning some other way.

~*~
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Inspirations

I write by day, I write by night.
I write of darkness and of light.
I write of nature and worlds to explore.
I’ve written less, I’ve written more.

I write of emotion and of art.
I write of flutters in my heart.
I write of the old and the new.
I’ve written of joy and sadness too.

I write of dreams that fill my brain.
I write of love that’ll never wane.
I write for me to let you know.
I write for you so my feelings show.

~*~
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Write to Dream

I don’t write much about reality

There’s things there I’d rather not see

There’s comfort in a world made of fantasy

There’s no hate, no war, no suffering to be free

~

There’s no false hope of dreams promised you and me

No hearts are ever broken, we are always we

It’s between these sheets of fantasy where I write to be

Where the world’s shared dreams become reality

 ~*~

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Poultry Dreams

In the name of man’s greed and chicken feed,
a farmer hatched his scheme to succeed.
He’d create a chicken with numerous wings.
Then, he too, could soar with the like’s kings.
~
Wings sell well but they sell way too cheap.
But if he had more the more he would reap.
He mortgaged his house and sold his truck.
He kept his old dog who brought him luck.
~
His wife kicked him out to sleep in the hay.
The breeding was started the very next day.
Time quickly passed and soon it was a year.
Most thought him a fool, although sincere.
~
With a cock-a-doodle-do he rose with the sun.
The day would be his, full of pride, joy and fun.
He sprinted to the house to fetch his ex-wife,
who had recently remarried to start a new life.
~
They walked to the barn, after some yelling.
The closer they got the more they were smelling.
With the odor intense, the farmer opened the door.
And with one big swoosh his hopes were no more.
~
His most wonderous chickens all flew the coop.
And the poor farmer left with only their poop.
The lesson of course being evolution’s not a race.
And those who disbelieve get egg on their face.

~*~
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Write On

~

Just an observation

Neither here nor there

Just a little thought

That I’d like to share

~

Having writ now a bit

Logging ups and downs

There seems to be a pattern

That’s shared all around

~

Sometimes juices flow

Pumped with inspiration

Sometime the well is dry

Full of emptiness and frustration

~

Yet on we tread for nothing more

Then another chance to explore

Following our pens, hearts and minds

Where always a tomorrow we will find

~*~

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Four See a Poet Well

Dive deep into this poets well

Rise with weighty, weedy shell

Float atop seas warm and clear

Drown in waves of icy despair

.

To the heavens soaring high

Gravity wins in darkened sky

Climb a ladder to emerge

Swim alone I do not urge

.

Forever shaken out to dry

Life is ripped with tear in eye

Lips conform to truth or lies

Four see and hear no silent cries

.

Poets tend to dive too soon

Writes tomorrows under moon

Sees a future without a past

Writes first, questions last

.

Boards to spring, slides to climb

Empty wells all fill in time

Time gives, takes and lends its hands

Turning forever in shifting sands

.

A place alone when hot

Vibrant when others not

A place that’s cooler than hell

Welcome all to a poets well

*

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Paths Move People

We can’t see the future or read the mind.

But with eyes, ears and thinking gears,

there’s much that we can find.

Pages of our lives fanned out in real-time.

Voices of every color sing them out in rhyme.

~

What was is done, will be, just a guess.

Is, is now, lest we digress.

Paths past can follow to haunt and test.

Yet we need only step a little, time gives the rest.

 ~*~

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Trying Times

Please excuse me for this poems’ short length.
It seems finding things is not my strength.
I had started a poem and it was great.
But I lost it and it’s getting really late.
~
But I know the importance of writing every day,
especially when there’s nothing to say.
How will you know anything if you don’t try?
Nothing’s ever answered without asking why.
~
I tried to find my poem but failed miserably.
But it’ll turn up, just you wait and see.
It may not be great when done and that’s O.K.
I’ll just try again, each and every day.

~*~
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Getting High

I like to write lots of stuff but I don’t know why.
And I’ll probably keep doing it until the day I die.
I write a little something almost every day,
but if I never make a dime that’s still OK.
~
I wake up early everyday right around sunrise.
I guzzle morning coffee to open up my eyes.
And when the kitchen’s lit up bright,
out comes my notebook then I start to write.
~
I never know where I’ll go or if I’ll go at all.
There’s a chance I’ll draw a blank but that chance is small.
Pages now fill my desk and the pile’s getting high.
But that’s a poem for another day, so for now goodbye.

~*~
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Poets Bond

~

I want to be a secret agent

Passport full of places went

Double O’Steven will be my name

Deeds done, others to blame

.

Gadgets in kit bond to tell

Code’s sheathed if to dwell

As a writer undercover I’ll be

A life expected in obscurity

.

Armed with poetic license to kill

Never the bullet only the quill

Hearts broken come with the job

Words unspoken said with a sob

.

Cloaked with dagger to stabilize

Bored to tears obscure shaded eyes

Faceless unseen ready to pounce

Heads roll the tales announce

.

Shadowy figures have no fear

When lights on them they disappear

This chapter unknown forever lurks

A page turned another’s in the works

 

~*~

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