writing

The Fix

It’s time once again for my daily catharsis.
I started late so it’ll be hit or miss.
I’ve nothing planned or grand inspiration,
none but to quench my daily fixation.
~
The day’s review is well underway.
Mind’s full of notes and the music does play.
My pencil does lure with infinite grace.
Time can be rewritten but we cannot erase.
~
Life though seemingly unpredictable,
conclusions often contradictable,
our tomorrow’s impossible to comprehend.
But tonight I can write a happy end.

~*~
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Could

This poem today could be my last.
Seems all my worries now are past.
Grief all-around still gets me down.
But a man in love can’t wear a frown.
~
This world’s not always a happy place.
Misery’s seen on many a face.
I’ve seen death and felt the pain.
Years have passed to find I’m sane.
~
My feelings spewed on sheets galore.
Forever I searched for an exit door.
Though light trickled through cracks unseen,
time now as bright as it’s ever been.
~
In a warm embrace I now awake.
If given a wish I’d none to make.
But a dream remains of peace on earth.
So write I must for what it’s worth.

~*~
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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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Obsession

The pressure’s on to write another.
The question is; why do I bother.
I wake each day before sunrise,
colors burst before my eyes.
~
From black to purples then reds galore,
the depths of each I shall explore.
Orange and yellows welcome pale blues,
clouds frame the futures clues.
~
Thoughts of dreams now come to light,
yesterday’s dread now out of sight.
Rhyming words soon fill my head.
Verses form when the sleep is shed.
~
I ponder what this day will bring.
I’ll sway in time as the birdies sing.
I hope a love poem’s seeping in.
Thinking of my sweet I start to grin.
~
She slumbers while I meet with dawn.
The beauty of each I am drawn.
Though today my mind’s a bit a-flutter,
perhaps tomorrow I’ll write another.

~*~
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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

Day ?

Oh no it’s Saturday!

My vacation’s nearly done.

I mostly sat around.

But I had a little fun.

~

Bird sat a parrot,

a story previously told.

Also saw my Ena, 

who’s nearly two years old.

~

We got a lot of rain.

So I didn’t cut the grass.

I didn’t trim the bushes,

I gave myself a pass.

~

I didn’t do much writing, 

but forced a little bit.

I called it all a journal, 

thought surely not a hit.

~

Back to work on monday.

I really can’t complain.

If I had more time, 

I’d probably go insane.

~*~

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Word Free

Hi, I’m the me you can’t see.
I’m the me that’s stuck in me.
The other me is the me you see.
That’s not the me that’s this me.
~
I know it’s hard to see,
this me that’s the real me.
Is the real me the me you see,
or the stuck me waiting to be free.
~
That’s the me you don’t see.
The other me too doesn’t see me.
That me thinks they’re all to see.
That me doesn’t know me.
~
Other than me the other me is free.
The other me speaks the words of we.
The words of me are only to see,
words of me that set me free.

~*~
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Day 11

I went to an umbrella factory.
I’m glad it didn’t pour.
They don’t make umbrellas there,
at least not anymore.
~
There were a few gift shops,
some chickens and an emu.
The restaurant was closed,
there wasn’t much left to do.
~
But I saw my little Ena.
We had a really nice time.
We said our long goodbyes.
Then home to write today’s rhyme.

~*~
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Day 10

My writer’s block vacation diary
is now on day ten.
I haven’t written this much
since I don’t know when.
~
The day’s still young with lots to go
where it’ll lead I’ve no clue.
A tentative plan was hatched last night,
sounds like something new.
~
I’m waiting for confirmation
until then my time is free.
Because I’m on vacation
and freedom is as it should be.

~*~
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Day 9

Yeah, they made it, little Ena’s here!
Grandpa’s happy to see his dear.
We had a tea party, read some books,
explored all the house’s crannies and nooks.
~
We played some more then off to the tub.
Her mom takes over to scrub a-dub, dub.
We read one more book that turned into three.
Then that sleepy baby fell asleep on me.
~
We all woke today at seven o’clock.
We had some breakfast and found her sock.
Now they’re packing, then to a Pow Wow.
I wanted to go, but I’m too tired now.

~*~
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Day 8

A week now’s past with one to go.
What are my plans? I don’t know.
It’s Saturday and I wait for a text.
When received I’ll know what’s next.
~
I’m expecting a visit much later today.
It’s Ena, who’s two, with lots to say.
She’ll arrive with her mom in a car too small.
It had been mine but I’m too tall.
~
It’s a long drive from New York to here.
I know, I do it ten times a year.
I hope they come, I miss the baby.
But no text yet, so for now it’s still maybe.

~*~
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Day 5

Happy hump Wednesday is finally here.
Let’s raise our mugs and spread the cheer.
The long work week is now near its end.
The weekend is next, shared with a friend.
~
But I’m on vacation, my weekend’s begun.
I’m going to play cards and have some fun.
We’ll sit on the porch and watch the sun’s arc.
I’ll stare at the trees and pretend it’s my park.
~
I’ll daydream at sunset to clear my mind,
then grab my guitar and a tune I’ll find.
I’ll jump up and down and sing without sorrow.
I’ll stay up late, cos I’m still off tomorrow.

~*~
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Day 4

Head’s in the clouds, toes in the sand,
love and laughter walk hand in hand.
Horizon’s endless on a calm night’s sea.
Reflections mirrored for you and me.
~
Love and laughter, the perfect pair,
nothing comes close I do declare.
It’s the freedom to howl at stupid things,
or share a giggle when the other one sings.
~
One pumps you up, one deflates stress,
love and laughter, why settle for less?
Time’s never wasted when it’s shared by two.
That’s why I’m glad to be vacationing with you.

~*~
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Day 7

Wow, what a scare I had,
cat’s on the stairs and Fred is mad.
Seems the cat was planning her attack,
so I moved the cage and scratched her back.
~
That was close, way too close for me.
The worst possible scenario I did see;
the cat tore up and the bird flew away.
Fortunately a story I’ve no need to convey.
~
So all’s well and I’ve something to write about.
This recent writer’s block leaves me with doubt.
But I’m on vacation, no worries yet.
When I go back to work, then I’ll sweat.

~*~
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Day 6

I just got a parrot whose name is Fred.
Though not to worry, no one’s dead.
I’m bird-sitting, I guess you could say.
We’ll sit together for a week and a day.
~
He doesn’t say much, that’s just fine,
I’d teach him some words, but he’s not mine.
He taunts the cats while perched in the hall.
If I opened the cage they’d all have a ball.
~
There’d be feathers all over I’d have to clean.
But I’m on vacation, don’t need a scene.
So far, all’s well, I’ll let you know.
Whoa, a screech, I gotta go!!!

~*~
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Day 2

Day two’s now well underway,
I’ve nothing to write, nothing to say.
But I’m happy and that’s always OK,
couldn’t ask for a prettier day.
~
So I’ll just ponder, won’t read the news,
I’d rather be dull than shine with the blues.
It’s time to reflect on all of life’s hues.
It’s time to relax, I’ve paid my dues.
~
But I’ll do something, which goes without saying,
I am getting older, my hair now graying.
I’ve a world to inspire, no time for delaying,
just not today, after all I’m vay-kay-ing.

~*~
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Day 1

Vacation’s finally here,
now what am I to do.
I’d love to take a trip,
but the dollars are too few.
~
I could fix my house,
but that sounds like work.
I could let it all fall down,
but then I’d be a jerk.
~
I could write a happy poem,
maybe it’ll be good.
I’ll share it with my friends,
as I know I should.
~
I did get up early;
I’d hate to waste the time.
So I guess it’s time to start,
start my first vacation rhyme.

~*~
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Better Than Nothing

My thinking cap has gone astray.
And I, bewildered another day.
But, at least no work, my day is free.
Perhaps today a poem’s to be.
~
I try to write whenever I can,
was just a child when that began.
Sometimes it flows without a stop.
Then years will pass and all a flop.
~
The flop phase now is where I’m at.
But I’ll keep trying and that is that.
The day’s still young and I’ve still time.
Let’s all hope for a better rhyme.

~*~
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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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