Long Milled Poems

“Sacred Lakes”



There is magic 
in your shaman bones
stories shaken like strange mojo 
busy under cover of autumn leaves 
turning burnished topaz gold 
idling unrushed roll over

in honeyed slumber

turning back hands
to face a time of 
blushing...

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   heroes?

there are none here, now ... ever ...
      don’t feign to look, for your eyes will
         beg their smiles,...

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It was a party like most, I guess
And not a “fun” one, I must confess
But our hostess I adored
And I just couldn’t say: “I’m bored”,

So, I milled around, and said “Hello”
And tried to fake a...

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Himalayan  Trip-Trap

They poured in,  before the deluge
To surpass the natives in numbers
folks in their  cribs -through-hearse  stages, 
trusting like kids,  a burnished sky,  blue-white, 
a cocktail of the wrong...

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Picture it. 
		3:00 AM 
Niagara Falls, Canada
We are rudely awakened
by an intermittent buzzing
      	 very loud
irritating, nerve grating.
“What is that?” I ask.
“Fire alarm,” he answers.
We get up, wide awake now.
“Maybe...

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Juniper blended with the richness of Mohagany 
as the well soaped Maidens accompliced 
in the impness of Dawn.
A strong coffee poulticed a hint of Cinnamon, 
and Clove prepared expectations. 
The morning fog was lifting her...

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Forecasts

 
'...the burnt-out end of smoky days'

                            T.S....

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“Is this place Hell” a prisoner asked his first day there; 
No, just a stop along the way. 
Andersonville Prison, 1864. Hell Upon Earth.

The hounds of hell waited for those stranded in battle by 
canon...

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'...the burnt-out end of smoky days'



                    T.S. Eliot


 

l



 



The evening rumbles in 

and grumbles, tea...

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misprision of Treason the contemporaries                              ...

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The mother dodged most of it; some connected and singed her hair. A shriek was the reply. As was a return spell. The air glowed red and shimmered. Mother Goddess didn't wait to see if...

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l 

The evening rumbles in 
and grumbles, tea is served, the kettle 
whistles, bread 
is buttered, weary workers settle, 
nibble, drink their tea and chatter, 
as the platter's 
passed around and cakes are proffered 
in...

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'...the burnt out end of smoky days' - T.S. Eliot


l

The evening rumbles in 
and grumbles, tea is served, the kettle
whistles, bread 
is buttered, weary workers settle,
nibble, drink their tea and chatter,
as the platter's 
passed around...

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...inspired by T.S. Eliot

          ******
l

The evening rumbles in 
and grumbles, tea is served, the kettle
whistles, bread 
is buttered, weary workers settle,
nibble, drink their tea and chatter,
as...

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'...the burnt out end of smoky days' - T.S. Eliot


l

The evening rumbles in 
and grumbles, tea is served, the kettle
whistles, bread 
is buttered, weary workers settle,
nibble, drink their tea and chatter,
as the platter's 
passed around...

Read More

l 

The evening rumbles in 
and grumbles, tea is served, the kettle 
whistles, bread 
is buttered, weary workers settle, 
nibble, drink their tea and chatter, 
as the platter's 
passed around and cakes are proffered 
in...

Read More

l

The evening rumbles in 
and grumbles, tea is served, the kettle
whistles, bread 
is buttered, weary workers settle,
nibble, drink their tea and chatter,
as the platter's 
passed around and cakes are proffered
in the cozy parlour, lamp-lit,
rum is...

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Screamin’ Bill Wilcox was quite a man,
Carved from a block of stone
With a face of leather, deeply tanned
And a voice you could hear in Rome.

A cow hand he was, best with a rop
Could ride both...

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A Prophets End to Invasion
 
They were besotted 
And long they stood with their clans men
their adamant frenzy breaking the strain in their eyes
gawping at the infamous injustice done
the dangling figure hung 
with loop and...

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One night about 25 years ago
I was sat in my car at Cothelstone
Dx-ing on my CB radio in the wee hours
when my two dogs started to growl
every hair on their bodies on end
a most putrid...

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Welcome, to Van Dieman’s Land
you rogues that humble Britain, who finally made a stand,
to send you to Port Arthur upon the brink of hell
where on the road to Hobart is this little town Sorell.

Founded in...

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though strictly Fermi, and oh...(en Rico) plus sun
dre other parvenues, a rapture
     surges thru me,
     when audibly communicating, enunciating,
     and speaking English words

as...

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O pure hearts, never forget my words,
When you listen to this pretentious, you give him
grain to be milled,
When you look at this fool, you give him
Grist for the mill.

Thus is the world made, of morality...

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The individual universe in each persona,
changes by the hour in changing spectrum of the sun’s corona.
The constant different light by day and night through the year,
many different dresses for destiny and her dance to wear.
Images...

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A hush fell o'er the Little Kirk Presbyterian Congregation,
Anticipating the annual Sunday School Christmas presentation.
The solemn flock, (usually obsessed with predestination),
Relaxed in their pews to enjoy Jesus' birthday celebration!

For weeks, moms had fashioned halos, stars...

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