Long Handprints Poems

Another time and Place
                               ...

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I will not waste away in the streets of such unbearable nightmares where I silently weep
I will survive the rainstorm of lament and listen to the mesmerizing murmurs of the deep
I am alive in the...

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Poet Identity

In conversations,
In biographies,
In resumes…all poets are writers,
    but not all writers are poets.
On a careful look into the mirror, when not looking
    for wrinkles, but staring deep into...

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I can feel my 40 year old mind awake from slumber;
But these brown eyes stare back at me with a defiance 
That I know to have belonged to  a 14 year old me.
Consider this...

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Remembering when
Perched high above on rocky crags
Cliffs weathered by times handprints
I saw far and wide to distant shores
Tendrils of desire radiating outwards

Riding the briny mist 
Being carried by the breath of the ocean, my constant...

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If, as hippy folklore claims, it never rains in California,
Then the watermark is never washed out of the phoney cheque,
And when you’re dead and gone there’ll be no one here to mourn ya
For it was...

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I am from Venus
    Burning and dangerous
I am from the locked doors
    From the screams on the other side
I’m from Anna and Scott
     A toxic...

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Last night I dreamed of you
With roses blooming in your eyes
I of late had often seen this
But today this image wavered, differed
Was it really just a dream – or,
Was I so desperate as to believe
That...

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Last Night

There is a stillness in the house
While I wait, as quiet as a mouse

I soak it up, this quiet respite
For very soon, I'll be more desperate

I will need the peace inside myself
To put my...

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Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Death is but an empty grave,
And the soul dies in that slumber,
Which will rot its bones away.

Death is merely but a passage,
No, the grave is not its goal;
Beyond the boundaries...

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PART I.

I.
each night...
I think about the moment when we'll vanish 
on the doormat of an empty house
because I know some day they will come - 
the malignant conquistadors and their moon colored hounds
when this century...

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Pots and pans fill up the sink, with baked on, crusty bits
Here's several plates of dried up cheese, and dips with soggy Ritz

The kitchen floor has sticky goo, where bowls of gravy spilled
And scattered glasses...

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This is not a place
Not a place
where trees grow
where water runs
freely
This is a place
of the quiet
solitude
A place of
fullness
emptiness

Yet to the people of old
The forest dwellers
The water dwellers
The nomadics
This is there home
Its your home too

In the...

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Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt
raised you as a monument 
to his empire, and why shouldn’t he.
From humble beginnings his art was 
monopoly. He understood the art in craft, 
it seems, for grand indeed you are. You 
never...

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We start out with our tiny feet inked,                               to show our paper footprints.                  ...

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Let the waitress put the chair up.
And th glasses tha tyou broke.
To keep us in the moment.
Tomorrow we'll smell like smoke.
You can come around if you really want.
When your hair looks new agin.
And you're the...

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The Ancient Odyssey of clubs to bombs
from red ochre handprints on cave walls
   to the destroyer of worlds
is a long-traveled road with the wormy flesh of war
   and blood-soaked fields
where wailing...

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“You stupid, worthless piece of s***!
I can’t stand you, you dumb ass b****!”
Knocking me down with every syllable
As you drag me from the dining room table
Grabbed by my hair, my scalp is on fire
Thinking of...

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A HIGH FIVE TO JOLEEN

I would like to give a big High Five
To my wonderful niece, Joleen
For the devotions of God’s Word
She gives to us on a daily routine

It is shared on her Women’s page
Giving...

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I was pressing the buttons as the box was on.
A big sound it was the postman so the taxes needs paying.
A sign of a letter opening it up slowly seeing the story unfold.
Past, which haunted...

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ON THE FORECOURT OF THE STARS

Mama Mia! What a voice!
Her depth of emotion carries the show.
Cast of friends slow burn the audience.
Shimmy of stars with sensual overtures.

Mama Mia! My eyes fill with tears.
My granddaughter’s resonance...

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Back in the Box

Empty packages, 
lots of paper, 
refolded for another year. 
Saved, again and again, 
generation after generation. 
Traditions, 
slowly getting too old, 
falling away, replaced by lesser quality, 
but surely more in every...

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If I were to collage next year
I’d place bronze across gold
and third over first,
stick paper upon electric,
paste glutton below thirst.

If I were to sculpt next year
I’d chisel women into boardrooms,
chip away white to reveal colour,
smooth...

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Poetry

A baby’s babble blowing bubbles for no reason but the pleasure of being in tune

The child squirting face paint composing handprints on the cushions of comfort

A football drawing a line from her foot straight into...

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One day, you'll be dead to me

My life is a hazard to everyone
And myself

My desperate detestation for you
The way you are
What you do
How you breath

My hatred for you is an endless pit 
Of Hell and...

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