Dice black and white
Not looking for a fight
Lucky hands, grip tight
Wanting a winning sight
Put pair into flight
Fist raised, power, and might
Snake eyes say good night
I hate the feeling of my tongue on my teeth,
The way my breath hides underneath.
You think a smile is a sign,
To cross my boundaries, blur the line.
You reach for me, one by one;
Until my trust is overrun.
You twist my words into a game,
And somehow I'm the one to blame.
For you it was but a failed attempt,
But to me, it's thoughts I can't repent.
I sit here with a pit in my stomach;
While you move on, still living free.
You were nothing more than a friend to me,
I said that clearly, repeatedly.
You say something strange, I look away.
I change the subject; you laugh and stay.
I trusted you to respect my wishes,
But you turned my silence into permission.
You act as if I owe you touch,
When I never promised you that much.
Even now, I cannot help but think,
I replay each word you made me drink.
My voice is mine, my body too;
I owe no part of me to you.
Leaves falling
Birds migrating
Friends gather
’round the fire pit.
Hot chocolate
at football games.
Fall is finally here.
A cold northwesterly breeze
Whips the nearly naked trees
A few pecans still tip the top
Unreachable by squirrels
Even if they hop
Ley lines
Straight out of a creative brain
Given to us by Alfred Watkins
A young imaginative archeologist
Ley lines
Invisible alignments between landmarks
He created the idea
Felt they had a mystical agenda
Ley lines
Popular idea in Europe
Where they have ancient monoliths
Connecting them
insinuating alien communication
Even when everything shines
I still feel the tension as it grows
Living your life on the sidelines
Your heart and your soul closed
For he who whings and whines
Heaven forbbid one should impose
Perhaps just a sign of the times
I am asked but who really knows
Though still the tell tale signs
And boy that now really shows
Living within your own confines
What one has then chose
Yet another introspection some bits wete used for poem chances written 2020
They spoke of lines
I did not see any
Oh, those blue ones?
Ha!
By the time I noticed them, my masterpiece was finished
I heard the last bit of the teacher’s instruction
“outside of the box”
I looked around but saw no box
I saw a dragon, elf, faerie, and VW bus
A mushroom came alive and flashed me with her round bottom
Words came rushing by
I snatched a few of them
They laughed and giggled
One of them kicked my finger hard
They would have their way; I was their puppet master
I am an artist, cartoonist, and poet
No one can advise me
I lean into my own truths
Listening to my spirit guides
They swarm me with ideas, and cannot be thwarted or stopped
They cannot be slowed down or discouraged
I am an artist; I am who I am who I am
Perhaps a change in circumstances
Or l am just living on the side lines
Do l simply ignore their advances
Or am l stuck within my own confines
Though even now the heart still dances
As always it seems l am in two minds
Whenever l think of past romances
Alot unlike that of todays dimes
With all of the awkward one way glances
Or is it l am just strugling to see the signs
Still though l wonder what are my chances
Of finding someone now in these times
Written 2021 follow up to desternasion and fate 98...,
A ku loves short lines
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
there is an old codger named Grimes
goes to the beach at summer time
he sits in his chair
and can’t help but stare
at all the young women’s tan lines
Red lines
Some faded
Some still sore
Pain seeping to the outside
Until I can't take it anymore
Red lines
Some faded
Some still sore
Nobody asked what they were
Nobody opened up that door
Red lines
Some faded
Some still sore
Counting down my wrist
Counting up the score
Red lines
Some faded
Some still sore
Will it one day stop hurting
Will it one day become a bore
Red lines
Some faded
Some still sore
Will I one day start craving
Will I one day want more
Red lines
Some faded
Some still sore
I never understood what pain was
I never understood until I tore the delicate skin I wore
As with the begging night,
you tease
engulfing me
with a passioned kiss
carried in
through the vagrant breeze
crimson drops of honey
dipped in pleasure
pristine, pure, enriched
mysterious bites
hushed breaths
brushed across
two lover's lips,
seduction of oral intent
where light flickers
into recesses of mind,
slipping in and out of the shadows
lusting after poetic lines
leaving no word left behind
The tree of the knowledge of good and evil
The tree of life and death
The green apple is poisoned red
The spools of light spoilt on murky depths
Este morning star
Esterification bedrock brooks
Limb for limb
Right eye to the left
Commodiously windswept
Wynn takes the cake
She doesn't say "I love you"
She says " I am proud of you''
My Granddaughter sprinkles tinsel,
all around the dullest of days.
I wondered if my mom
heard the planets speak
the morning I got the call.
An aide at the group home
said my mom didn’t know
she was to die.
alone in the bedroom
An oxygen tube stretched
up to her nose, lungs failing
from years of smoking. My mom
thought it wouldn’t be her.
sun through the window
I asked her why she didn’t
want to be downstairs with
the others. She said she didn’t
want to be with old people
as if she could will herself
to live forever.
a house, not her own
The owner bought the house
to take care of her mother
until she died, and devoted
the place to take care of others.
my mom denied her age
I recalled somewhere
on a sidewalk children played
as the time when my mom
stood in a yard and watched me.
dandelions the flowers
[when]
seen by younger eyes
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