Outer Shell

OUTER SHELL

Self-contained

imprisoned

shackled 

arm and foot

three foot bubble

encased

outer shell

INTACT

densely imbound

seeking release

intrinsic kernel

yet to be found

Another Day

Another Day

Another day scrapped with its demons
having folded in upon themselves
Creased and cornered tightly
tucked yet still wrinkled
in just the right places


Another creeping sunset 
arrives unbeckoned wandering
carrying whimpering westerly winds
Sighing, seeking for the open window
searching to crowd the senses
with a gale of its own jasmine blossom

Another flawed day
trapped in its own domain
a montage of pain, of quiet song
joy mingled with suffering
of sweet harmony, broken melody
a granite heart carved rightly


Another day to kindle the kettle
until all the worries burn
whistle another day
summon deep pleasures
whisking the soul away
in ample delight


Another day taken flight
alighted on mercy's tree
transfused with satisfaction 
herbal remedy intravenously 


A refreshing supply of reliable content
like peppermint flavored veins
with cotton candy coated walls
jubilant flow now takes the reins

Three Dimensional

Three Dimensional

One line runs
continuously
on a narrow path
as far as the eye can see
until it broadens with breadth
advancing widely
stopping so hastily
continuing upward
bounding with height
surging onward
ever so vertically
til it slowly dips
diving downard
plunging with depth
still growing
moving hastening
its dimensions
ever so cubically

A Prayer to experience the Dimensions of Christ

Dear Lord,

I pray that I would not be a one-dimensional seeker.
A one liner, lacking breadth.  Or even two-dimensional merely.
But Lord, with others may we experience you as the breadth, the length, the height and the depth; corporately, unashamedly without preference like a three-dimensional cube.  Only then will our experience of Christ be complete. 


Amen.




(Inspired by Ephesians 3:18) 

Wise Trees

Inspired by two massive, aged, wise trees I noticed on a beautiful evening.

Wise Trees

On the nightside, parked
tucked in the shadow
I took courage at seeing
your gorgeous crown,
dense dimensions,
fullness of wisdom
of your elegant roots.  
Your presence 
so charming
draws me closer 
within the limits 
of your 
massive frondescence 
please fold me closer
wrap me tightly
with your wise 
winged boughs
I beg you, branch deeply 
into the chambers 
of my heart and 
fill me with your
stability

Wholly Encompassed

Seeds sown
in tilled hearts
taking root;
gaining ground
rummaging,
seeking room
gathering fruit
of mind, emotion
will.
resurfaced
determined
trailing arm, limb
winding
winding
each extremity
creeping
creeping
head to toe
holding fast tendrils grip
til blessed immobility
wholly encompassed
slithering, sliding
in full poetic bloom

The King's Roots

The King's choice seed has been planted
His royal germ is well known
Full growth its full inclination
Into majestic garden, stately home

The life within, stirred demanding
Constant perfection, glory replete
as gem-laden rhizomes drink ripe earth
sinking plumb deep, wayward creep

Its uncomeliness has now been broken
From cracked shell it obtains escape
Pivoting to and fro developing
With wiggle room taking shape

April Whispers-May Daze

April Whispers-May Daze

I whispered into her ear
hopelessly, in wistful undertone
But she quickly turned away
evanesced before my eyes
My words never reaching
her inner ear fade softly
into May daze

An April PAD Song

An Assembled symphony
An April PAD song
A sensational vibration
Thirty days long
Reverberating
Immensely
Still echoing
Bounding
Reflecting
Traveling
Carried
Through
Wind
Distancing
As
an
Echoed
Word
Flown
Yet
Still
heard

Ella Muse

Ella Muse



She comes
to visit
unnoticed
creeps
leaves
without
saying
goodbye
sometimes
she
comes
arrayed
in red
clothing
sexy
charming
alarming
sometimes
she's
full
of
choice
words
sentiment
over
flowing
confident
other
times
she's
hardly
there
uncomely
bashful
lacking
but the
reality
is
sometimes
she
doesn't
show
at
all

The Problem With Kids

The problem with kids is that
They often come without a manual.

The problem with kids is that
they're so adorably wicked
bite-size cuties.

The problem with kids is
that they're many times insufferable
and yet so approachable.

The problem with kids is that
They don't normally come with extended warranty

The problem with kids is that they
can be insidiously inconvenient and constant botheration.

The problem with kids is that
they're so precious you're temporarily
deluded to birth another

The problem with kids is that they're
notoriously naughty always on the most wanted mommies and daddies list.

The problem with kids is that they
grow up to be just like us.

April Goodbyes

April Goodbyes


Alright.
I'm ready.
Lips pursed,
Puckered steady.
Kiss me...
Goodbye April PAD.

The Trouble is keeping the Fire going

The Trouble is keeping the Fire going



Who is the author of this April PAD ardor?
With combustible talent, just who could be the starter?
Not in concurrent flames existing that burn side by side
But of collective spirit enkindled, conveying collaborative stride 
Daily prompts, daily poets, daily cheer, daily views
A sightly thirty day ignition and fruition of muse
What emission, transmission revealed in each hued ember
Every poet inflamed, incinerates precious poetical timber 
Another April PAD at the cusp, of yet another glamorous end
The only treasured thoughts are...next year can we do it again?

Transformation

Transformation


Somewhere in the night
I morphed into a sloth;
Dim blackened eyes,
Woolly-haired three toed beast.
Lanky arms slither-n-slide across the bed
With slack hand releasing
The snooze button... again.

The Good Old Days

The Good Old Days


Simply no longer in the
limelight of any sort of sport
Unless you include chasing kids
before bath and bedtime.
Laid waste as the day draws
nearer to forty
than in the beginning

Now I contemplate
the hustle and bustle
of the good ol' days;
the days of old,
which were new
back then...

It was growth like a beanstalk
evergreen, with lasting foliage
dashing down the court
contesting every shot
dodging the potholes

Posting up in the paint
Ascending for the rebound
Now I hardly leave the ground
My feet pain of fasciitis

My knees scream retire
Nothing left in these old tires
The air of youth has rescinded
From this old vehicle
And the weight born
Wears with every mile

Ashes

Ashes     (anti-love poem)


It was nothing less than
your hazardous double-edged
discernment that hacked us into pieces.

Our lingering hopes were shredded
by your serrated attitudes.
Our marriage, was irreconcilably minced.

Our union reduced to sawdust;
clambered in the wind
and scattered like chaff.

Addled Attraction

Addled Attraction


I love your sass
And sarsaparilla hips
Luscious, dark raven locks
Sauced, glistening lips
Those thick thunderous thighs
With nothing left undisguised
But only to your surprise
Do I say, do you love me?

Pillow Talk

Pillow Talk


Mmmm...
Just another minute...
I definitely don't want to leave you.
With you, I'm so comfortable.
Deluded by buoyant embrace.
So, so drawn to your softness, cuddlesome character.
When I'm with you, I'm weightless.
And my cozen bones whisk away...

Miss Morning

Miss Morning




In the womb of the dawn
Morning awakens
With fierce arising
From the depths of night unkept
With bounteous hope in her ray
Gathering spring in her step
Splashing emergent newness
Nascent quickening day
Scattering darkness
Piercing forest, leaf, limb
Fully pacing, hastening her way
Racing for miles
Smiling and giving smiles away

Unreliable Minds

Unreliable Minds


The mind works by knowledge
When knowledge is lacking
It operates under free assumption
That holds no truth
But rather fallacious fabrications
That lead to irrational conception
Issuing in unreliable misjudgment

Supplier of Life

Supplier of Life


Precious is the heart
the invigorating muscle of the human body
Constantly handling our life blood
day in, day out

Effortlessly dispensing
the precious life juice
to every cell in need
fostering growth, function

Precious is the heart, the enduring ox
that only knows to labor
showing no tire
knowing no fatigue

HUMAN HARMONY

HUMAN HARMONY  (Tanka)

Brick by brick conjoined,
Layered cellular beauties
Perform their duty
Interdependently well
In multi-cellular tune

The Time will Come

The Time will Come

The end is near
at the doors
the end of life
as we know it
the end of strife
as we show it
the end is near
for the proud
the low, the naughty
the time will arise
for the humble
arrogant, the haughty
the time will come
and the sun will shine
with rays of healing
in His wings
these are true words

Uninvited Guest

Uninvited Guest

Arctic winds push
Sly wintry mixes
Weathering limb, life
Feathery masses
Of crystal flake
Dominate the landscape
Dressed in snow white blankets

Let's Write something

Let's Write something

I'm willing but my mind is void
The muse is not open yet
My words have abandoned me
And have gone astray
Retreat!
...time for coffee

Still Quietness

Still Quietness

It's almost been a month
since I've last seen you...
In a casket, coated with make up
Dressed in silence and your favorite
beige suit.  I won't lie, it was quite burdensome
to see death reigning over your mortal body
feigning a smile splayed across your face

For as long as my soul has known you
You've always been a busy man
But here, you're forever settled...
Laid silent, in still quietness.
In this, Dad, rest in  peace

Sweet Potato Palace

Breakfast in bed
With sweet potato pie
Paradise on earth
My, oh my
Please tuck me in
In sweet potato skins
With Marshmallow pillows
Let the games begin
Hand over the cinnamon
And please pass the potato
Grab your popcorn
And watch this rodeo

PAD ATTACK

The earthlings
Have begun their poem-a-day challenge. What shall we do?
Quickly, confuse the muse
And zap them with writers block...

Slow Cooker

Slow Cooker

A little love, a little hate
quantified sufferings
mingled with joy
Cracked hopes
spilled together
into one vessel
stirred with emotion

Measured spices
sprinkled stress
a dash of sweetness
a pinch of strife
seasoned by
lengthy lessons of life

This Old Bag of a Balloon

This Old Bag of a Balloon


Give me those primal cheeks, those irresistible charming buttons
and don't turn away,
but let me clasp your cuteness betwixt thumb and index...
yes, palpable pleasures, indeed enjoyed, compressed, still squeezed.

Let me see your winning countenance
display those genuine sizzling smiles
slashing self's misery straps
once thickened with constraining wiles

Now this old bag of a balloon
is released in the joy of your unmasked face
now this old bag of a balloon
re-inflated with your effervescent child-like grace

Kick Return

Broadened shoulders blink,
Hungry to lower the boom.
Squandered chances flee;
Slick return man has less room.
Any last words for your tomb?

The Old Chum

Hook, line, and sinker.
We got a big one captain!
She might sink the boat...
Certain to gladden the bowel.
Make haste and gut the old chum.

Tanka Twister

Tanka form challenge
In the eye of the storm moves
Deliberately in style
Collectively gathering
Strength from each poet for miles

Brisance of Life

Underground barren
Improbable to be seen
Tiny tulip bulbs
Brighten the odds patiently
Unto brisance of life green

Love Me or Love Me Not

Love Me or Love Me Not


Love me or love me
not. Our sullied hearts entwine,
Love's affliction knot--
Tighten, clench: two halves made one
in unison's cord and song.

Multiple Myeloma

Multiple Myeloma

Rest in peace, Father.
Candy apple insurgents
Riddled and ransacked-
Intrinsically hijacked your
Life-blood, precious bone, essence.

Household Bonanza

Household Bonanza

Household Bonanza
And buttermilk pleasures
Daddy Discovers
Many diapered treasures
Gift wrapped tightly
And handled with care
Emanating golden treats
Has filled the air

Something stirred

Something stirred

I prefer something
stirred, mingled with warmth
something with pizazz
With spice
But free of sugar
Free of ice
Something that dazzles
Yet cool to calm the senses
Something with oil of Bergamot
That old Earl grey
Subdues all the tension

Something Blank, Something Written

Something Blank


Blank
But pure
Vacant
Yet inviting
Open
Unscathed
Ruled
Orderly
Available
Desirable
Clean, fresh


Something Written 

Written by life experiences
Tattered, withered, worn
Word by word suffices
Every line, every scorn
Blemished with another pen
Saturated again and again


Cluttered, congested
This page hardly contested
No room for your words
New mind, inks or thought
For indelible oldness
ineffaceably has been wrought

Forest Tree Menu

Forest Tree Menu


Black Cherry "Cordial"
"Delicious" Dogwoods
Orange "Sherbet" Oak
"Lemon" Spruce
"Double Chocolate" Rocky Mountain Birch
Yellow "Pineapple" Spruce
Australian "Pecan" Pine
"Blueberry" Beech
Rum Cherry "Coke"
Custard Apple "Tart"
Big-leaf Maple "Syrup"
Black Walnut "Bon Bons"
Cinnamon Oak "Bars"

Spring Stampede

Spring Stampede

Resurgent foliage
Populates the fruitful bough
Overcrowding trees harboring
Rich growth, expanding free
Rising tide of the ocean spring
In luminous astral green

Immortal Evergreen

Immortal Evergreen

He was such a tiny sapling
Tinged with youth
Inexperienced
Vulnerable
Exposed to the elements

But like his predecessors
His roots prevailed
Seizing the earth
Beneath deepening
His post fixed
Into immortal evergreen
Perennial paradise

Slivered Shades

Slivered Shades

Quickened silhouettes
Spin in concert
In slivered shades of reality
Mirroring self
While in the ray
If those blessed streams of light
Dismiss their presence
The silhouettes mist
And our dark shadow
Becomes reality

PLEASANT STILLNESS

PLEASANT STILLNESS

My boy, so stunningly resistant
This perky child simply refuses to sleep
My own flesh and blood
Adorably defiant
Makes constant nonsensical shrieks
Powered by youth
These resilient rabbits
Bounding, breaking every waking rule
Have elastic will
Perfectly capable and well intended to rule
But every day the same, is well measured
In the end, every child subdued, simply just lies still

BESTSELLER

BESTSELLER




She was elderly, greyed with wisdom
Silvered with life experiences
He, on the other hand, was a young lad,
A timid little sapling moist with morning's fresh dew
His leaflets unfurled, His buds blossoming anew
These two met in a home for seniors who immediately 
Struck an affinity for one another's company
She was aphasic, robbed of the spoken word
From a previous stroke that left 
It's impression upon her speech
Which was largely garbled and unintelligible at best
But they always were on the same page and never missed a beat
He understood her furrowed brow, her lively gestures, her brilliant index
Most importantly, he understood her heart
So they lived, they loved, they laughed
And boy, did they laugh
The boy had many friends and acquaintances there in that home
But She was always His favorite read
They had a grand old time whenever they were together
Day by day, page by page they had many chapters 
And together they wrote a bestseller

Undercover

Undercover

Under the covers
On a cold rainy day
Shrug the world aside
Keeping piece of mind
While my soul's at play

Curled warm
Under comforter
Coiled, cozy
Where all is at ease
Where nothing can oppose me
Life on pause, responsibility
On freeze

Undercover at last
Under simmering
Cinnamon satin sheets
Doing skin good pleasures
Like bon bons, truffles, treats

Now the only dilemma
And now the only feat
Is selection of the
Next book to read

The Power of Six?
Or the Hunger Games?
Sighhh…

Lurking Shadows

One of life's greatest joys 

was to scare my poor little mother.

Lurking Shadows

Lurking, lurking shadows

Go creep, creep, creep

Prowling boys stealth gamble 

Unhinged mothers

Weep, weep, weep

Veiled deadly assassins 

With hollow hearts

And ghostly eyes

With deucedly sinister schemes

Profound in element of surprise

Yet these skilled vigilantes

In concealment 

These canny masters of disguise

Seek not the pleasure of hiding, but

Horrified mommies and their cries

 

The Origin of Poetry?

The Origin of Poetry? 





Poetry,
a vessel in the potter's hand
tailored to his pleasure
conformed to his demand
how does it so sooth?
this revelation and fruition of muse?
such poetical device
such delicacy of word
such contrivance of heart
begotten two-winged bird
flown throughout the ages
by quill, pens, and pages
a literary contagious art
who can tell, from hence did it start?

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April PAD day 4

Birds of a Different Song

Birds of a Different Song


You know,  I'm really sorry things never
materialized when we were together
I guess mere attraction doesn't
mean love after all
And if we were ever "love birds"
We never took flight
Rather our wings were clipped
Scratch, claw, fight
And there was no song between us
Just birds of a foreign feather
My fickleness, your weather
My paycheck, your pleasure
My macho tendency, your insecurities
My vindication, your javelins
My containment, your unravelings
We were never meant to be
Separated, divorced
And now we're three
I hope you find
that love song
in the bird
you so
longed
for
goodbye.




April PAD day 3

Another Route

Another Route

I'll be damned if I apologize
In this lifetime or in the next
By phone, in person, with rose or with text

By golly who do you think I am?
I don't do "I'm sorry" green eggs and ham
Like some mindless marble or some spineless brute
Ain't seekin' your forgiveness, but got another route
I've jumped that plane in full gear, parachute
And sure as hell ain't losin' no sleep
Over you...




April PAD day 3

UNTOUCHABLE

UNTOUCHABLE

Dear Dad,

I regret the fact that I missed your passing...

March 20, 2012-- 5:20 am 

Even though I endured a long and hardy 31 hour trek,

1800 miles non-stop across 8 states without sleep-- 

I still missed you by three hours.

You were so close, yet so far away,

so untouchable, unreachable.

and now this moment would be unforgettable,

indelibly etched, engraved on my heart

cracked and riven.

You had already made your departure from

"Heaven on earth" as you called it, Arizona.

the moment I received that text and

those words flashed across my cell:

"Dad passed this morning," was nothing less than Hell on Earth.

Down the 17, through the San Francisco peaks, 

across Happy Valley road without a smile,

it seemed like it would never end--
skirting mountain after mountain, I envied their stability,

jealous over their steadfastness,

while I toppled over in anguished tearful tyranny

hemmed in by desert lands parched and deprived 

while I lie soused in a sea of hapless emotion...

But I knew it was your time to go.

my only regret is that I wish we could've  connected more.

Anyways, I love you, Dad.  

YOU

YOU

Do you know what I fear most?
You
Losing you
The preciousness of
Your hazeled eyes
The fullness of your countenance
Warmth of your embrace
Intonation of your lovely voice
Loping tears down your crystal face
Even they are most desirable
Like a lion who seeks it’s prey
Like the youthful 

Dawn determined

A new and perfect day

Revealing light that bears reflection
Of ardent beauty, diamond ray
Where there is no tommorow, boundary
Permanent passion without decay
Here in the rolling meadows dancing
Where the prancing shadows are still at play
I cannot lose you now
My lovely one

On pleasure’s hill

O’ do let us stay

If we were ever separated

and you so far, far  away

I’d still tune in to love’s frequency

Electric spectrum

receive your comeliness

bask your ray

My heart is faint

And twisted

Weak and wrenched
with fear

Vulnerably contesting

this thought

but simply

unable to hear

That I would

lose

You

My love

Poetic Bloomings Prompt:  Fear

SUGAR PLUM

SUGAR PLUM




My silent sugar plum,
coatless timid terebinth,
ambrosial choice spice.  
A delicate tender lily
unaware of her
hidden green youth.
You've become quite a
towering Cedar tree.
Anchored and sightly,
while others under your
wing, your shoulder.
Deeply seated, rooted firmly
upon the earth.
The fullness of every
shadow is beneath you.
Surely I remember
the day you returned
home.  Standing in
the kitchen garbed
in militant green
Stoic and sullen faced.
You were my lamb to admonish,
wild and woolly haired
child.  My daughter.
Its hard to imagine
you...now.  My once tulip,
Snow white,  now with malignant
attitude and M-16, the
insurgent metal-laden.
A lily who prefers the battlefield.
Leviathan, with an appetite
for belligerence and blood.
But you'll always
be my little sugarplum.




Sunday whirl prompt for wordle #46

A FAMILIAR ROAD

A FAMILIAR ROAD


As streams of consciousness
are poured into this poor state of mind
another rude awakening begins
and the drudgery dawns
a new day

At that very moment
wishful thinking
takes on the
identity of a sloth
his day job

Yet responsibility swiftly beckons
Steep challenges eagerly await
my arrival

If only life could be on pause
Still images frame by frame
If only time and tide could wait for this man
Suspend earth on it's axis
and let me turn over
and sleep in


Prompt 44 from Poetic Bloomings:  Take a road trip

Heavyweight Champion

Heavyweight Champion



Chalk one up for cancer
The heavyweight champion
of the world

My father was no match
to go up against him
He had a good fight though

Radiation
Chemo
Stem cell transplant
Cocktails of medication

You put up a good fight Dad
Until Cancer came back
with a vicious jab
and devastating right hook

Knocked you off you're feet
Now you're on the canvas
Face down
And its not looking good

But we're all cheering for you Dad
Telling you to get up

Hoping
Waiting
In slow motion

The referee is beginning
his three count

One...

Two...

Dad?  Please get up.
Dad?
...


You'll always be my Champion.

ENGORGED

ENGORGED

Engorged and crapulous
With penned prose entrées
Savory sonnet sides
Desert haikus
And sweet wordle pies

VACATE?

VACATE?


Vacate?
Yes, I oftentimes wish
to go  astray, to go amiss
to disappear, to vaporize
to quickly vanish
from every eye
undercover and in disguise
like secret agents and sly spies
to abruptly thin
and become a mist
momentarily I don't exist

Gas up the car honey
let's hit the road
grab the kids
and we've got a load

Pop in a CD
recline the seat
inhale the fresh morning dew
sweet rolling Amish hills
here we come!

Vacate?
Get lost and go amiss?
Yes! Now that would be interstate bliss.

My Mobile Haven

I love my car
My mobile haven
A paradise on wheels
And ecstasy in motion
Although when stationary
its just as therapeutic
Shifting gears to park my soul
and slightly roll the windows
allowing rich gentle sounds
of the surroundings to penetrate
my psyche and have access to
Massage my inner being
The train at  a distance
the dog barking faintly from afar
The variation of wind
from violent to soft rustle
swaying branches bushes boughs and leaf
helpless against its power
They offer no resistance
But a sweet musical yielding
that aides me through the day

Grandma's big brownies

Grandma's big brownies

O school bell,
still reluctant to sound,
Do blast your trumpet,
and we'll be homeward bound...
Please ring, sing the tune of the end of the day,
do release us, don't tease us
do send us our way,
and let us play and stray
and sprawl across our lawns,
all the way to grandma's house
where the brownies are found.

Please Mr. School bell
It's so cumbersome to wait
as we visualize dense brownies
displayed across our plate...
What do you say O' school bell?
What is your answer?


And what do you know,
that Old bell pelts.
Yes, Mr. Bell with us has kindly dealt.

Our murmurings have ceased,
our way is mapped,
we see those brownies
splayed across our lap.

The cement was smoked
as we scurried, scrambled, poked
through the crowd,
over the fence,
across the lawn,
through the door,
all the way to grandma's house
where the brownies are found.
our tummies entranced,
and it all made sense,
it was all for grandma's
great big brownies.






From the Sunday Whirl word prompt

There is no bloom in the garden There is no bloom in the garden

There's no bloom in the garden




There's no bloom
in the garden

There's no petal
to choose, to pluck


There's no charm
for the honey bee

There's no nectar
to cherish, to suck

There's none
to dazzle the eye
or tame the senses

There's no loveliness
to keep, garb our fences

There's no bloom
to find forgiveness

There's no bloom
to romance the misses

There's no bloom
to make a supple heart
or find a fresh start

There's no bloom in the garden...

Life Hinges

Life Hinges

Once a dynamic power
Unhindered, Unlimited
Uninhibited
Defiant in will
With no lack of strength
Second to none
And rising above others
Life hinges
Changes direction
Forward to backward
But no change in velocity
Backward, Forward
Forward, Backward
Life hinges
Changes direction
At will
Encumbered by life's changes
The pace slows
Nearer the end
Until the swing is empty
And the hinge is silent

Disregarded Beauty

Disregarded Beauty

Where has your flower gone?

Your grass has withered,

And your flower has fallen off.

Once a beauteous land,

Now a forgotten, trodden ground,

A disregarded beauty.

Who has forsaken you?

Under whose foot have you

Been trampled?

PALATE PLEASURE

PALATE PLEASURE 
(haiku)


Sumptuous oatmeal
Pancakes soothing the palate
So puts me at ease

Habitual Creatures

Habitual creatures
Hiding peacefully
With suspended happy habits
Hunkered down in their holes
Hardly hunted
In hibernation
Having their lives on pause

Rankled and Worn

Rankled and worn
Like a old pair of Jeans

Wrinkled, withered
Such is life so it seems

Faded, frustrated
In hopes, sometimes dreams

Yet tommorrow is a new day

MECHANICAL MAN

MECHANICAL MAN  (The Work-a-holic)




A Hardwired hunk of metal
And one sparkling hinged beauty

Efficiently perform
Efficiently perform
Efficiently perform
It's duty

A hungry horse-powered heart
With diesel determined will

Works every part
Works every part
Works every part
With skill

Mechanically Muscled
Master of moil

Carefully concocted
And tissued of toil

With bionic bones
Synthetic skin tones

It's performance
is nothing less than royal

Tinkered tightly
Screwed seamlessly
Simply construed as the best

Genetically programmed
To labor increasingly
Never to cease
Nor rest

BUMBLING BUSY BEE

BUMBLING BUSY BEE



Busy Bee buzzing, bouncing
Braving the big world of things

Briskly bearing sugared treasures
Floundering from flowered nectar's springs

Bounding, bumbling so busily
And bustling about the day

Still soaked, sweetened with honey
Soaring, buzzing along his way

Vintage Wisdom

An aged man
Like vintage wine
An antiquated wisdom
Of the honorable humanity
Deemed classic
Yet desirable
From many wise years
Appealing to the youthful
Tastebuds of the inexperienced

The Perils of Defeat

The Perils of Defeat


Disheartened  by the perils of defeat
A valiant effort is laid waste
as the opposers laze
in the spoils of their victory



*Inspired by a friends basketball team that lost to the number one team in the state.  

The End of Ends

The End of Ends

The end of ends
for which all time is cast...
A prayer and a blessing
for those who've breathed their last--
Rest in peace.


*This poem is dedicated to all those who have passed before the new year of 2012.