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Sunday, February 26, 2012

Sea Shimmer




For Rheannon 


Born from the sparkle of the sea
Misting family and friend with
Singular shimmering sunshined persistence
It is is done and she yet only
Begun

With love and grand congratulations!

In the Land of Cumbersome





In the Land of Cumbersome


In the Land of Cumbersome a tiny boy pushed from his pallet by besotted siblings trudged through the cold near morning - reluctant sun thinly shafted as yellow smoke coaxed through the dense air by will of his upward staring still-fresh senses,  shouting silently in unsurrendered plaintive plea a wondrous "Why?" repeated -  as a map of murmur carrying him sleepily forward through the hardened fields to the cement of the city -  where he,  just another faceless stray -  eyes still burning bright entranced by a distant door yet to be found - settled on his spot and waited for the rain of infrequent coin and common censure to begin to pelt with familiar constancy the soaring power of his unearned burning expectation of Yet to Come.  







Thursday, February 23, 2012

Strings - The Overture





Strings - The Overture


There would be none
Said he sliding the
Check across the table
That late night at the diner
She suddenly stricken mute
Incapable of staying his slick straying
Fingers sliding Forever Indebted –The Overture
Over the fretted strings of her thong….


Saturday, February 18, 2012

Out From The City Of Bizarre







In the ruined city of Bizarre, the sweet scent of girl children seeps through the shadowy dusk, wafting as whispers over the scorched fields, calling forward the smudgy smiley sister faces nestled now between the hands of restless elder ghosts.  Beyond the land of Bizarre a train whistle blows its inconsolable cry calling to that lone left girl picking in arched barefooted care through fields of sharded bone. Struggling for balance stumbling under straps of backpacked belongings carving cankered sores into still soft shoulders as she tumbles toward the Town of Know. 











Friday, February 17, 2012

Home




In the clearing of chaos, confusion, muddle, turmoil, sered, scathing strife
The calm center of open countenance, clear counters and a welcomed life
Home

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

She Thought Love Was Reciprocal


She thought love was reciprocal 


She thought love was reciprocal
Gathered together all for one
Bright eyed enthusiasm yet
Renewed each time together met
Gathered together all for one
She thought love was reciprocal
Brought bouquets of words from her heart
Month melted years were not apart
Bright eyed enthusiasm yet
Renewed each time together met
She thought love was reciprocal
Gathered together all for one
Month melted years were not apart
Brought bouquets of words from her heart
Gathered together all for one
She thought love was reciprocal

***************************************************************************

The Whispered Wind



The whispered wind floated in air
In sweet embrace they gathered there
Connected in diversity
Shimmered shining sacrosanct

They came from corners of the earth
The whispered wind floated in the air
Dropping hard or tentatively
Lyrics fell on the glistened street

Once a season a storm might pass
Stirring passions and poetry
The whispered wind floated in the air
As all settled back into one

Walking safely on paving stone
Joined in collective love of same
Tumbling as lovers in leaved grass
The whispered wind floated in the air

Until it hissed.  

Sunday, February 12, 2012

The Trade & Fourteen - Wordles #43




The Trade 

A black haired fair faced pomaded young man
Rode through the town fast as he can
Charms were his trade
Visions he made
Hanging from a belt for him made

Ephemeral sparkling young man
Gathering barefoot customers fast as he can
Running there through the fog
Weeping dew onto the bog
One maiden sat still -apart on a log

To this black haired sparkling young man
Raised her face lovely as a face can
Began her clear voiced interview
Why their gold coins accept you
When you know nothing for them can you do

Begone black haired pomaded young man
Ride from this dream trampled field fast as you can
As she spoke into his hair a sticker it fell
Small and sharp from the truth tree they tell
This last part dreamy with blur and confidential as well

Into that black hair the sticker burrowed deep, burrowed true
Until each purloined wish, glistened coin, each dream, tumbled returned anew
In the field outside Traded Town
Walked the fresh fair faced maiden ebon hair tumbled down
Smiling at the bounty of all their returned loot
Pulled on soft one by one, a shimmering ride to town boot
Lifted onto his left behind steed,  black hair gleaming with ransacked pomade
Now, a black haired fair faced pomaded maiden ready from inside to trade


*********************************************************************************








Fourteen 


In the land of ransacked, the small sisters lied head to foot piled into the bed back to back. As night fell across their packed rest the eldest fourteen at the best rose, washed at the basin and walked on arched feet out into the fog, hair like silken blanket on bared shoulders, into the street of calling customers, weeping confidential visions into her ransacked charms - as the night fell each one onto the other, into and out of her, as the eventual dawn fingered the sky - head high coins of trade pocketed she returned to the bed where small sisters stirred in still sweet slumber and picked a sticker from her shoulder licking the drop of blood from her salty finger tip.






Thursday, February 9, 2012

Fraternals



Fraternals

They float
In the warm
Ocean of
Soft red
Walls
The sound
Of whooshed
Air thumping
Between their
Balleted bumps

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Night of Ruins - Red Dust





Night Of Ruins

Into the petulant night of dubious rebellion she runs hair flowing, true as a
thin steeled dart on bare feet - lifting  the latch onto mistaken fields of
concrete freedom finding  endless exile in that sudden sense of metallic
staccato sprung fuses - she slumps but another anonymous scar her head of long
hair billows lifeless as any other  tumbleweed in the promised poisoned
pestilence of the Night Of Ruins,















Red Dust


On the steps behind the garden gate he sat, small dark eyed boy compact and
steely as a newly minted dart coiled in the exile of his mothers dubious fear. 
Outside others shouted, kicked unseen stones in the red baked earth - he watched
as billows of joy drifted through the latch until a boy chasing a soccer ball
came to the gate and  waved him on - petulant, dubious, rebellion puffed his
sparrowed chest and dark eyes dancing he quickly lifted the latch and ran onto
the red rousted dust as fuses sprung and all was glinting metallic,  a boy arm,
a shower of red rock, a sneakered foot, the soccer ball, all collateral damage,
scar on the land - this now gone boy once safe behind the grated gate now mixing
with the red dust.







Thursday, February 2, 2012

A litte note about adding friends...

I spent time over inviting each of you
with a special message - this is true
I have a feeling that this was all for naught
I do not think more than a few actually my invite caught!


If you would like to be 'Blogger Connect friends' I have sent new
invitations... please excuse the lack of a warm message as it is 
difficult to type with my eyes closing and my head threatening to
bang itself asleep on the keyboard! 

Say yes to death




Say yes to death

Say yes to death
Embrace the end
coming surely as satin ribbon
Flows through fingers feeling
The spool suddenly spun

Say yes to death
Embrace the end
Not as some sorcered spectre
Scythe sullen syncophant

Say yes to death
Embrace the end
As a gentle misunderstood
Reminder
To shout joyously
Yes!
To
Life
With each borrowed breath