Best Sluice Poems

written on time’s page
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Hereabouts the thinning glades
Of sparse grey Birches:
Brackens crisp copper tresses 
All aglow;
Gently waking Snowdrops
Lift their sleepy heads
From leafy beds of woodland moil,
When tucked snugly up,
Out of intrusive sight and just 
Below.

Fondly the slowing bend
Hugs upon the river...
Banked heavily with frosted 
Bulrushes
That shifting breezes once did...

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ghost, river, shiver, gaze, tender, cold

Ghost River

Ghost river runs without a shrink.
Little known in polite circles.
With cupped hands, the shameless down drink.
Suspended place, not inked in journals.

A decisive shiver up spine.
Why’d a boat wait at foggy shore?
He’d smiled at me, as we’d cheered wine.
Trepidation ripe...

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Why, why, why? Is all I ask
Do you send these folk my way
They're not the ones I'd choose myself
But I attract within hooray
You must have plans to work me Lord
Have I really gone astray

I try so hard to be polite
You send me those who groan
From...

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7/22/21

People continuing to show hate
As if they themselves are so great
While the planet continues to rotate

Boy you need a lot more than Colgate
You thought it did, but it carried no weight
Don't make me, or I'll put you in yo place
The evidence will be difficult to...

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Tongues loose, tongues in a hangman’s noose
Wag without care to declare nonsense
As wisdom salvaged from the sluice
Where nonsense whacked common sense 

Lost in a sea of error whose terror
Harmed victims concealed by protagonists who opted to promote
The cult of nonsense whose defence mirror
Plunged into reverse...

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Written: September 08, 2023
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In the realm of fearless pranks, we meet,
Where weakfish lump and teardrops greet.
A sluice of inducement  we embark upon,
With words that excoriate as a lethal swan.

With a droplet of grit and a split decision,
We dismantle our panic with precision.
Such a weak...

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Gimme some dat twelve bar blues	
bucket of beer, some otha booze
sluice you from my mind.

Wake up late with an achin head
bleary eyes and feelin half dead
none of you to find....

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The Castle On White Otter Lake

That rustic, old log castle
Stands facing the lake.
Built by hand, by one man
To acknowledge his presence,
In a changing world, he felt
He could not participate in.
And so chose to live like a hermit,1
On the shores of White Otter Lake.2

Time and wave...

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(sung – in a round pussy willow warble - to the tune of -- 
Oh Where Oh Where has my little dog gone)

With a flam boy hunt deft jais nais sais quois 
firm lickey split tongue
and two bell yule yar pissant 
little nappy ruck berry...

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persians pickled
firm and crunchy,
thin and pint size -
spice them with little red flakes
and briny water.
pack them side by side
in a sparkling jar.

twist, pop that top,
fork-stab those
puckery suckers.

serve:
alongside a sandwich -
perhaps a plump pastrami
or
with dumplings drizzled
with thick and  savory gravy
or 
combine spears with choice cheese
on...

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'It is my faith that every flower 
enjoys the air it breathes.' 
To live means to be aware 
and take time to see and care. 
To live is to apprehend and forgive.
To live means to share, 
open windows, appreciate, 
love, understand and perceive.
 

Endear yourself,...

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Follow me down 
To the cold oceans playground
Where children dance and frolic
At building sandcastle dreams
That the sea will sluice away
Beginning its concerto

From the driftwood surfing waves 
Over the metronome melody
Of the gilded Herring Gull
And the rhythmic percussion
From the smoothed rolling pebbles
The symphony consumes

Softly hanging in...

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Left over overspills are a typewritten error and a grammatical code of which there is no collision of nouns, verbs or adjectives. Descent described design deriving dug dirt. And a soil no shine. A voided coloured counting ball is many balls on cruises to oil...

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From a metre of cellotape one can actually fashion a spear. To fashion is neither fashionable nor cosmopolite it is merely to work an object into a work. And to work is to toil so don't throw the washing in a tall bin. It is...

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