Witches in capes and their black pointed hats
Riding on brooms with their black
Witches cat.
Witches don't laugh they just cackle and scream
Are Witches reality or do they just live in your dream
Witches casting spells That can make you bark like a dog
Making up Witches potions that can turn
You into a frog
Witches are they real this or is what I write
All in fun
But I will only advise you this if you do
See a witch RUN.
Light arrives from its flight
wheeling behind its suitcase of shadows,
exposures, echoes and consequences.
It spills its hoard across the floor,
and gathers remnant dark
remains from dim corners.
It daubs and stitches
black silhouette capes and patches
behind all it passes.
These shadowy figures are light's wind vanes
tracing where its being seen.
Light reveals the cracks, dents, dust and flaws
hidden by unrealized expectations.
It dusts the scene for fingerprints
and other forensic traces
bringing all the hidden
unseemly before and afters
into stark relief.
Nothing escapes light's black valise
carry-on bag.
Petrified zombies march
past displays of potato starch
Onlookers stop to gape
at what’s depicted on their capes
The clue connecting all this
floats upside down in the abyss
Real heroes aren’t fearless,
They’re brave enough to face their fears,
And the real ones aren’t emotionless,
They are the ones who shed tears.
Real heroes don’t have crowds around them,
They are usually the most ignored,
And they’re the ones who've been heartbroken the most,
Not the ones that are the most adored.
Real heroes aren’t the ones that move the mountains,
They’re the ones who struggle to climb them,
And the real ones don’t defeat enemies,
They’re the ones that forgive them.
Real heroes aren’t bulletproof,
They get bruises and scrapes,
And the real heroes wear their scars,
Not all heroes wear capes.
Where do you come but are not led
Where do you rest but have no bed
Where do you sup but are not fed
Where do walls make free instead
Where do heroes shed their capes
Where are forms but never shapes
Where do you leave behind the apes
Where do confines birth escapes
Where do contained mul’tudes dwell
Where do secrets go to tell
Where are beasts and monsters fell
Where is your prison with no cell
March 22, 2025
On Februarys third, when winter bites,
We set our tables for feathered flights.
Seeds scattered wide on frozen ground,
Draw tiny visitors from all around.
Cardinals flash their crimson capes,
While chickadees and finches take
Their turns at feeders swinging free,
A backyard birds jamboree.
Sunflower seeds and millet spread,
Like nature's feast of daily bread.
The juncos hop through drifted snow,
While woodpeckers tap high and low.
This simple act of kindness shows
How care through bitter winter flows.
For in these days of frost and chill,
We keep our wild friends' bellies filled.
So fill your feeders, spread the word,
Today's the day to feed a bird.
A handful shared with wings above
Returns a thousand songs of love.
When you think of heroes, who comes to mind?
Who inspires you the most?
Could it be a sports athlete on the court or the field?
It could be fictional characters like Spider-Man or The S.H.I.E.L.D.
Maybe it's one of your teachers in school;
Or your best friends who are just like you, totally cool.
Your pastor in church, a doctor or nurse,
Your parents/grandparents who warn you not to curse:
It might be your neighbor you see everyday
Or someone in the military fighting for the USA.
A famous singer, an actor, an activist;
A guidance counselor, your siblings, possibly a therapist;
Maybe a police officer or firefighter? That's a pretty long list.
So who do you look up to as your hero?
Think before you answer and try not to boast.
Not all heroes wear capes, as you can see,
But there is a hero inside of you and me.
Greedy vine spirals smother monoliths
Spider fern moss, fairy forest vertical
Soaks in secrets, promise admonished
Water trawled crevice, creek cervical
Church canopy arch angel honours
Wing finger cool fires praise prancing
Laser selects sections, bark polished
Licked by flitting demure madonnas
Eight afore taped to trees keen tropical
Each fresh capes the chapel innocent
Suckers strung hearts hung over tendrils
Hundred year hardness rots, wet spent
Mighty trunk rips open room charcoal
Doorway discloses disaster clandestine
Bluebeard’s bride wives winding sparkle
Shon hopeful on nymph number nine
3rd of July
Daintree Dancing
Superheroes
stalwart, selfless
soothing, protecting, serving
Suits, Boots, Capes, Crowns
unassuming, watching, saving
bulletproof, empathetic
Humanity
bird
black-wings
salmon-beak
most are scarlet
pronounced, 'E-'E-vee
species, Latin: clothing
Hawaiian royalty's capes
ritual end ere the kingdom
refuges establish safety zones
'E-E-vee's cheery someday is here, YES!
The anxious crowd Gathers
Slowly anticipating
The grand opening
A bud trembles
Dew drops shiver
A late sun
Unlocks the stage door
A gentle hum builds
Slowly petal fingers open
To unheard applause
A chatter of sparrows
A distant hoot
The muffled cooing
Of doves
Crimson capes
Opening to nature’s suitors
The anxious crowd
Gathers
Slowly anticipating
The grand opening
A bud trembles
Dew drops shiver
A late sun
Unlocks the stage door
A gentle hum builds
Slowly
Petal fingers open
To unheard applause
A chatter of sparrows
A distant hoot
The muffled cooing
Of doves
Stage right
Crimson capes
Opening
To nature’s suitors
Regal tulips in purple, blue and yellow
pink splendor ambled in sensuous glow
tantalizing rows of frenzy red capes
beauty swaying ...bouncing in waves.
Clustered far and wide, their pouted lips
flirting through a prism, beams of tulips.
demure dance and frolic, tempting kisses
spring gives birth...a rainbow of wishes.
The path I walk, so serene and divine,
This paradise I know will never be mine.
Filled my soul with aching
to keep my brain from faking
its joy.
Torn hearts asunder, I once was filled with wonder
but now I dread the thunder and
my laughs are filled with buckets of rain.
The leaves my palms were built of are wilting with rusty, dusty ash.
Slighted by the gods’ convictions, uncomfortable with their restrictions
I became ungoverned by ordinance and unyielding faith.
My sighs are filled with yawning and yearning,
my soul’s shrill cries are tossing and turning
against the wind.
Soothing is the ice on the capes
and softly my trembling skin aches
with the chill
of snowflakes and numbness.
The world could end tomorrow
and here we sit writing filigree
stitching daisy loops loves me loves me not
torn lace like words to be removed
eventually, life felt melting in the silky grooves
to reveal what’s naked underneath
a last cry into the early morning hours
like a freed nightingale
the cardinals in their red capes
sit on the aloof shoulders of watching trees
come to collect for themselves
some Other’s sweet moment of release
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Dissolved Girl.
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