Best Meekest Poems

While wandering thru the forest pines
                                      A lesson...

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Gone now are the wondrous minds of old,
whose era treasured learning over gold,
And humble were the thoughts and words of these,
who, trothed to truth, would now be left displeased,
by hurried tempers bent on winning wars,
neglectful of th’ endurance truth implores,
Tis sober wit we prize? ...

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What wild glee behind your tame grin lurks?
What shy sun fears to breach your heart’s horizon?
And to against your hidden teeth of 
Alabaster gleam. Bestowing upon the earth the breadth of 
Your delight. With rays of a beam that girds 
Time at the waist.
The meekest...

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Catharthis...
neglect of the art and it's form is such a beautiful start
let go of the pain
let go of all emotion
the hatred is spread thin
Touched and such beautiful notions
I know you are striving
to be with you're true self
You need to be spirited away
to heaven from hell
Learn...

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the will of the pen knows no bounds 
but limited to the will of the writers hand
like the tone of a melody without sound
waiting for the cue from the band 

the face of a painting has no features 
except those the artist wishes to convey...

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As a child, I was taught that God created everything
But when I went to school,
the theory of evolution was the accepted doctrine

That kinda teaching didn't sit well with my parents,
they gathered the kids around, read us the riot act
Their voices dripped with scorn, and they...

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When all the great songs
have already been sung
and every last bell 
has finally rung

I pray it is then
when our hope from above
shall descend to the Earth
like the gentlest dove

When every last page
has been written in pen
by the wisest of sages
and the meekest of men

And they...

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Black plastic jellyfish float on the breeze,
detritus of homeless, drunk as you please.
Reminders of illness, and other things lost,
price of a forty the true smallest cost.
Gathered at feedings, the city’s unknown,
backpacks aloft, they migrate and roam.
Library, shelters, and other spots too,
wandering tribe of the destitute...

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Aye, the written word
Dearly, my dearest friend
Bestow the meekest with thy power
Liberate thy most ignorant follower
And then to them
Make thee, great men

Aye, touché
To wisdom, to wit, to script
Tongue also sharp and dreadfully quick
But thus a pen mightier and ever brave
With one bold stroke, swift of...

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Marx and Spencer

Were I to tell you what I think of Spencer
(the middle-manager, without the “man”,
and vilest cockroach since the world began),
my poem would incense the meekest censor.

But when our hands in insurrection join,
we arm ourselves to take back what is ours,
red banners streaming from...

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My poems have blissfully escorted me
through the gamut of seasons,
having afforded me not the sensations
of their individual touch.

I stand worlds away from the blustering 
wind that shudders the meekest of boughs.
My hopes quaver along with their stammering vows
falling from my lips like fronds from a...

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I know you are a champion
You have conquered fields and won crowns
You have been carried up by crowds
Walked on deserts,
Touched your tongue on burning coal
And eaten hot pepper, bare
Been happy and you’ve frowned
Been lost and found
You have flown above clear skies
Had clouds singing, calling you...

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There was a glorious star, shining,
Bright in the heavens, piercing.
It lit up the night sky, like lightning,
Showing upon a village sight, conceiving.

All was calm, even the bustle from that great day,
For travelers who sought out their homeland pilgrimage,
Were worn out from their travels, of so...

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Mortality



Morning snowfall brings his
Moist eyes one last hurrah.
Moon-flowers and blue jays,
Meandering in step.
Malignancy strides moan
Meekest as his saviors
Mourn before it all melts.

4/19/17...

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The Complaints Of Ducks
the city
filled in
the small
pond
in the middle
of my tiny
poem.

all the ducks
came to
my door
and complained 
i am
simple
i agree
in the meekest
of language.

that they 
have been
unhomed.

it is 
my duty
they tell 
me as a poet
to open
the  door
of my 
small poem
and let 
them swim
in my bathtub.

i agree
it...

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