June Pariah I think not, she said, and saw his shoulders sag as his face fell. Then he turned, and with his chin to his chest, pulled his hat low to hide his tears in the rain that fell with his heart, into the little black velvet box, now laying heavy in his breast pocket.
Punker Doo's a didley squat who sits upon a hill. If
you should happen by you'll see he really is a pill. He picks sunflower petals off and counts them one by one, then
puts them in his silly hat and calls them little suns. Punker Doo's a didley squat not worthy of enjoying. He only speaks
in nonsense words, which is quite annoying.
Punker Doo's a didley squat who sits upon a hill. I chanced to happen
by one day and heard his silly trill. The words he sang were out of synch, non-sensical in rhyme. The sharps were flat,
the flats were stretched succinctly out of time. Punker Doo's a didley squat and to us is quite annoying, but I am sure
his trilling nonsense noise, he's quite enjoying!
Ride The Wind
A gentle wisp to kiss the dew from tender buds,and
dancing through the early morning springtime mist leaving a path where they've been kissed
A quiet song, to
softly sigh all through the pines, a lullaby and sing the restless Babe to sleep before he stirs and starts to
A soft caress on golden grain to roll in waves across the plain and fingers stretch through Summer sky
to sculpt the clouds as they go by
A brisk uplifting breath of air that gently combs through tangled hair
and moves the part from left to right creating quite a silly sight
A sweeping gust, to scatter leaves to
dance upon an Autumn breeze and send them spinning down a street to gather deep, where you can't reach
blow, to billow sails and carry ships before a gale to ride the seas upon the tide and anchor safe at harborside
A stinging, icy, biting scream racing across a frozen stream and flying over hills and trees leading an
early winter freeze
Disappointment one simple word it
says so much can bare our souls betray our trust dashing hopes destroying dreams one such look can rend
our seams and spill a heart onto the sands of time seeping in second hands of silence......
Soulful Pour out my soul weep til the end for only tears can
make amends Pour deep into this empty well and fill it til the tide does swell to wash away the pains of
guilt the aches of fears this soul has felt Pour out my soul weeping amends til only tears need find an
find it hard to read this note as large a lump grows in my throat alone I lie here in my bed as scrambled thoughts
dizzy my head just finding the right words to say discovering no simple way I stumble, blunder, blubber, bawl
as you stand waiting in the hall just simple words I must recite to say won't you please, stay the night
When I'm No More A Miss
With rich green valleys and snow covered mountains With wild raging rivers and calm falls and fountains With
a herd of wild horses in the valleys, running free With large fields of poppies and multicolored trees With birds
in the air and squirrels on the ground With foxes running from hunters and hounds With a large house on a hilltop and
acres of land like this Is the kind of home I'd like When I'm no more a Miss
How are you today Did you take your Lady on that cold foray Running 'round a diamond was not her thoughts
of fun for watching all those men be boys she'd rather see their buns But, how ARE you Dear Daddy alone there
in that box. It must give you quite a chill to know she was a fox. She slyly rent your heart out and served it
on a platter. All the time still asking you what ever is the matter Once I tried to warn you. Twice you turned
away. Three strikes you're out now won't you shout and scare that witch away!
As she drew the tambourine in the circle of her arms The golden bracelets on each wrist flashed firelight
with her charms
Her movements slow and sensual as gracefully she spins Her ruby lips shine with the heat Her
sultry smile begins
Slowly the beat draws closer as Fiddlers bow meets string When stardust cast to embers
heat the Knight begins to sing
A subtle shake sent shivers flames flaring high entranced And sprays
of sparks ensued the beat as the Gypsy Woman danced
More quickly played the fiddle her steps in perfect
tune wide swung her skirts, bared to her knees the Knight now wont to swoon
The Knight stood tall, bedazzled silent
his voice took wing as softly pouting ruby lips behest to hear him sing
His song accosts her heartbeat as
she watches him through the fire in the velvet rise of her breasts soft glow his eyes fill with desire
tambourine now silent the violin softly plays and gently swaying to the sound to the Knight her love conveys
A fall has put me in this mood afraid to talk, afraid to move
Each breath a test of thresholds reign to
gasp, and cry, through threads of pain
My broken flesh prevents the draw of words to fall, smooth, from my
My ribs protest in twists of fate the box I tripped on seen too late
My knees spent hard,
upon the floor my head thrown fast, into the door
It is that fate has gone amiss I am too old to be like
In all my splendid, lithic, grace I did but fall flat on my face!
Tears I Shed
cried the other day in mourning of my years. I read some poems my daughter had composed. I realized her poetry
was more real than mine, and the floodgate of my soul, it overflowed.
A tear shed for her openness,
her honesty. Another for her youthfulness in love. And much more for the wisdom in each thought expressed. A
flood for all the longing that I saw. She had written all my dreams, all my fantasies, there upon each
line for me to see. I was reading of the life I once had wanted to live. So I cried, for I could see her
High or low away he goes influenced not for wont be pained in this circle of scrambled thoughts indemnity approached
not for sanity be wont with the grave
There once was a poetical writer Who interlaced all his odes like a spider So for all those who read Would
get caught in the thread with this nonsense and humor inciter! Who am I?
I have tread
on your thread very often And I manage to sidestep your pens I'm the sheen in the silk that you're weaving I interpret
the why and the when If you look very quick you might see me In the blink of an eye I am gone It takes wit and wry
precognition Where wool covers more than silk spun Who am I?
Simplistic ideals of an adolescent poet traverse time to 'lite upon the diatribe of a middle aged lyricist and
reveal childlike wonders of life renewed in verse.
Complex goals of a middle aged poet traverse time
to 'lite upon the dreams of an adolescent lyricist and reveal maturing daydreams of life once lived in verse.
...and tears flow freely from the mind when faced with words of like or kind. An outlet which the heart must
seek when faced with words so bittersweet. A path to guide the rivers flow when faced with words you would not know.
What thought provoking souls must seek when faced with words that make you weep. ...and tears flow freely from
the mind when faced with words could this be mine.
Round and round in circles she goes,
riding to where nobody knows.
Up on a cloud or under a tree,
so bright and happy-go-lucky is she.
A giggle, a song, so often to hear,
she's off on a lark, then suddenly near.
She comes and she goes more quickly than light,
she wakes late each morning and sleeps late each night.
Constantly brushing her hair in a swirl,
carefully tending each non-existent curl.
Sitting so silently, somberly free,
mesmerized while watching TV.
Sparkling green eyes and sheepish grin,
they grip your heart so anger can't win.
Punker Doo's a didley squat who sits upon a hill, influenced
by the test of time he has the day to fill.
Unable to distinguish work from play he'll go have fun,
hoping you'll chance to happen by and do what he's not done.
Punker Doo's a didley squat and there's nothing more annoying,
than knowing of what he does not, and not of where he's going.
Doo’s a didley squat who sits upon a hill, like a glutton on Thanksgiving, whose eaten all his fill. If
you should happen by you'd think that he was just a log, and if a snore he should emit you'd think it just a frog. Punker
Doo's a didley squat who's endlessly deploying his responsibilities to those with whom he's toying.
A frightening, pushing, angry roar rattling
windows, burst through doors uprooting mighty oaks from earth dismantling life in reckless mirth
lift for feathered wings skipping through chimes to make them sing or ride the waves in ecstasy across the vast
and endless sea
A soothing touch on sweated brow cooling the place where thoughts somehow become inspired
from within to merge into, and ride the wind
It seems I have been given voice tonight tho' sadness seems the voice revealed in sight A
song of mournful choice this voice has sung released this heart from on the sadness hung Set free this soul and give
it Angels wings so it may soar and sing of better things
My other self is very wise mostly
silent sometimes rise to meet the ghost of sad recall before I plummet before I fall at other times 'tis
hidden there in plain view
Speak out dear loved one voice boldly Thee mind. Hold not Thy
tongue Thou hast words could be mine!
'er not will I know Thou hast feelings of heart, if ne'er from thy lips Thy
words should depart.
My guess, but conjecture influenced afore tell, e'er Thy actions lay silent if ne'er
Thy wisdom lay hidden e'er 'neath truth and fear I ne'er may acknowledge lest Thy words seek
dangle on strings of anticipation, increasing every minute. And dance away in procrastination, stretching to their
limit. When choosing paths they often borrow stolen moments for yesterday, from tomorrow. Sunsets closing time
escapes them, darkness hides its flight. Soon revealed as sunrise lifts them on gossamer threads of light Propelling
them from their beds, ahead.... .........tethered.....
Another has gone, so many this year Always I would plan that someday to visit But the distance brings diversion and
the someday reach is further away. Regrets flow for the someday that may never now come. Gone on to a better place.
only I could gather all those somedays together and bestow upon all those gone the "I Love You's" in my heart. Now
they all wait for the time that never comes to greet me with open arms on my someday.
I Was There
I was there to hold them where no other arms could reach I was there to stroke them when their little hearts
did breach I was there to keep from them what they cried for from their souls I was there to tell them why they
must be bold I was there to see them when grief etched on each face I was there to love them who would take my
tripping lightly over ivory, black and pale, across the keys, to strike accord
within the boundaries of the soul of
Felted hammers tapping rhythmically
over wires, tautly stretched across the board, to echo accord
within the boundaries of the sound of
Tittupping vibrations ebb and flow in waves over
wood, resonating wide across the orifice,to sing accord within the boundaries
of the song of Rhapsodies
Gregarious tones subtly dancing over currents, swirling softly across
the room, to spread accord within the boundaries
of the spirit of Rhapsodies
Of Ants & Man
We see it now crawling in and out over and under, around and through Feelers out, always searching no obstacle
too great to climb no opening too small to forge Always forward never stopping following an invisible road Up
and down we see it crawling
Always onward, life is forging over troubles, around and through Thoughts
out, always searching no problem too great to overcome no challenge too small to try Always forward, never stopping following
an invisible road Up and down we sense His guiding
To Ride A Mock Horse
Darling Baby, so happy and gay, you're all a bundle of joy today. Now content to ride my knee, soon you'll
want to be set free.
With your brothers you will run, to romp and play out in the sun. You'll learn to
swing and climb a tree, many a scrape and bump I'll see.
When other tease and make you cry, I'll sing
to you a lullaby, and rock you gently on my knee, before you beg to be set free.
Then as you grow I'll
watch with pride, as you walk at your sisters side, and off to school you both will go. Oh, how I will miss you so!
When school days pass and college too, there still will be a place for you, to rest your head upon my
knee, and reminisce of days so free
The Advisory Committee .....Too many voices...to sort it all out want to go..stay...go...oh Heck!!!!! it wasn't there anyway...wasted
time can't exist in... essences of life.....love loss.........tears... falling..gathering pooling....running....empty NO
MORE!!!!!!!!! full of dreams and too many voices
Another In-Verse Perspective In illusions of time I find what is mine is but a cluttering of objective thoughts to while away this
time of allusions
Allusions of this time to while away objective thoughts is but a cluttering
of what I find is mine of time in illusions
When I Grow Up
...and find pennies on the ground I'll pick them up and save them for a rainy day I'll not throw them away like
some children lost in life not meant for them a cardboard box or city street for a bed a dumster for a table a
moonless night for theft and scrounging a sewer maze to hide the loot from a hapless night I'll not throw them
away I'll pick them up from the ground and give them the pennies I've saved for a rainy day....