Best Hundred Poems

Some days I feel so damned old
Like my zest is starting to mold
Seems my feet are always cold
My golden years ran out of gold

I'm sitting here on this old swing
Watched the ending of another spring
The birds with their young under wing
The warm gulf winds start...

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Inside twinkling eyes of nights bloom
          Garden flowers whisper
      Peeking through tree branches, heads nod
         Vines twine graceful arbor crown

   ...

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“Pretty lady”, let me love you, take you places you’ve never been
All the pain you’ve gone through, I’ll make sure it don’t happen again
I promise to always comfort you, your burdens I will bear
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to prove to you I truly care!
As...

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another typical day, with feet on the ground
  ordering the hedge to meet my image of trim
  many measured bits fall before the cutting edge
  casual thoughts detach, is there anybody in ?

  then some mental inner disturbance jangles
  with...

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On a walk after the worst of the Sandy storm
I slogged down the still dampening
Green grass valley rutted between
The moldering fences of the shadowed alley. 
 
Under the low, ominously rushing, soggy gray clouds
I saw so many black birds silently
Clinging against the stiff breezes
To the...

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it is cold and the flowers are dying
becoming withered memories
leaves are drifting and rain is falling
and the river flows like a stream of glass
the grass is fading 
and birds are flying away
and the forest is taking on a sombre hue
and storms shake the ocean...

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There was a man who had a horse
Means of friendship and transportation of course
Everywhere the man did go horse was there for show
This horse began old to grow

To the used car lot the man did go
Selecting a car with many horses you know
Not knowing it...

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Casarah wants us to write happy
That’s not an easy job
My fickle muse has left me
She’s turned into quite a snob

She won’t let me write a poem that’s funny 
Not even a short limerick
Now my world is dark not sunny
I’m feeling a little bit sick

So I’ve...

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In an hundred years...
Everything around us will be changed,
And everybody will be dead,
Yet, something will continue...

Will it be, as my radical leftist brother predicts,
The final takedown of Western Civilization?

Will we all rise to pray and face east?
Will we all rise and face nothing but a...

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One hundred percent, can you see it?
Maybe - imagine if that were a pool.
A pool of water maybe or a pool of blood? 
What power dictates true endeavour?
What justifies what stakes rise?

Perhaps we stand here in front of pure evil?
Perhaps it’s pure love we see...

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Each night 
you dream 
in fours or fives
or more-- 
hundreds of dreams a month,
thousands of dreams a year... 
yet you think you've dreamt 
only a few, and can scarcely 
remember those--
where then are 
those unknown dreams?

Are they hiding?  
Hiding in a special place 
within...

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If all could be said
With one hundred thirty six words
Could my thoughts be coherent 
Would words travel in herds

Would they race across pages
receiving thunderous applause 
Would they cause one to ponder
or take a moment of pause

If  words could take flight 
Somehow written in the...

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The birth of Jesus is the cause for us to celebrate.
No Frankincense and Myrrh; we’ve learned a different trait.
Some celebrate in splendour the manger and the hay -
driving home to join Jesus and are missing Christmas day.

One hundred Christmas dinners never make the plate.
No one...

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Water, water everywhere;
nothing here is stable,
but the moon sickle sinks
her tendrils into our hearts.
Roots reach
below the diluvian chaos,
anchor us
to the terra firma
that is down there, 
somewhere –
we sense it
in our memories,
in our dreams.

after a painting by Greg Edmondson.
From my new collection The Eden of Perhaps...

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it is cold and the flowers are dying
becoming withered memories
leaves are drifting and rain is falling
and the river flows like a stream of glass
the grass is fading 
and birds are flying away
and the forest is taking on a sombre hue
and storms shake the ocean...

Continue reading...