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...

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"

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.