Long Notebook Poems

Goodness, I nearly lost my balance on the spiral seashells and broken sea stone chipping matrix.
My quaint obsession with marine life and that skyline paradox blossoming so tantalisingly,  might be a source of some...

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I was nervous about my newest client.
Not every Permaculture Designer gets a contract
with the WhiteHouse.
But, when the President called,
or twittered,
for an intake interview,
I guess it felt like an obligation
to at least show up,
although perhaps about...

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Key CapitalistYang/CreolistYin EcoHistoric Concepts

I find a fuzzy irony in this morning’s early search for a new journal notebook, having filled my last from what had been, five years ago, an inconceivably high pile of empty...

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Young Timmy saw Jim walking down the street.  Timmy considered a quick retreat, but steadied himself with a shrug.  Timmy dreaded the sight of Jim, a teenage bully and wanna be thug, who...

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In the greatness of heavens realm there are many chapters of angels
Arch Angel Micheal the great warrior, Arch Angel Gabriel the great
messenger, Angels who tabulate, Angels who sing, Angels who watch
and for Earth the most...

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In the intimate interlace of free will and fate, in the ultimate interplay of time and place, and with the consummate checkmate of my human dignity, all that is.. is over in the stormy, swarming...

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December 14, 1965           

"Mr. Samuel Cooke. Sam Cooke??
You been in that casket for three days..
You a long way from Chicago, son?"

And Sam said, "What happened
Where...

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I esteem your presence
Glowing with glee 
At times, you do say things without thinking 
I’m the god of distress – 
You’re leaving me breathless 
Cutting me down like I’m some decaying tree
You don’t see how...

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When does ambiguously free verse
also become emphatically political verbing verse?

I was emphatically reading pieces
ambiguously written 
about my sons,
to my oldest son's girlfriend.

The longer I read
the more she cried.

Now it had been my hope
and passion
to become...

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This is a translation from the poem "Camellia", by Rabindranath Tagore, Nobel laureate Poet from India (1861 -1941) Understandably the story took place in late nineteenth century - early twentieth century Bengal. 



Her name is...

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A homeless poet

A few days ago, I was walking home with my dollar store notebook in my hand as I walked. I was deep in thought about how I was going to fill these 250...

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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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There’s a bump in the road and I need Your abode
There’s a bump in the road and I want Your abode
Here’s a helping hand if you need to unload your load
There’s God’s right hand if...

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(Part Two)

I go back to a time, (one of many), when we were there, caught in the rain
and salt mist ... little droplets would form on your eyelashes like diamonds, as
if giving value to those...

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Grandma Gretchen's in her rocker and she has something to say. 

She tells a visitor, a young man from the city, if he plans to write a book about life on a farm in the...

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Sometimes I feel so

Insignificant.



I have yet to understand why I’m here.

What’s my purpose?

Will I be forgotten easily when it’s time for me to go?

Or will I be remembered by many?

It’s difficult to pinpoint what makes...

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An early wintry storm hit late last night on this date, September 11th, 2035. There was strangeness in the air like a stale aftermath of partying.  Frigid. Strange that people still celebrate Freedom Day...

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5 minutes 

Black man- Regular Font
White cop- ALL CAPS 

Excuse me Mr. Officer can i ask you a question
WHAT THE HELL YOU WANT BOY YOU ARE GETTING OUT OF YOUR PROTEST SECTION
Why do you hate...

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For each gift that you make to a man’s spirit,
Servant gift, not the kind that dishonor brings,
There’s a peace that comes soft. (Can your ears hear it?)
And the heart of the man soon forgets its...

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Save me from becoming numb
I'm aware that you don't care
Be my best friend unlike some 
All these scars I, alone, bear 
Beware of my blessed breeze as it slips out of my finger tips 
I...

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Young James Pruitt was an ordinary boy;
he grew up in an ordinary town.
But set a spell, and I’ll tell a tale
of how some not-so-ordinary things went down.

See, James was a good boy; he did his...

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Dear Budding Poet . . . 

   My view on modern poetry is that one must read the poets of old, to grasp
the concept of poetic form, word use, tone, imagery.  Then,...

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Dear Budding Poet,

Modern poetry is a mix of new and old with modern styles created by bending or even breaking the rules of old forms to create new ones.
Express yourself any way you want to...

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She stares at the paper not a word comes to write
Surrounded by peace on a dark rainy night.
Like the page in her notebook her mind remains clear.
Not a word to be written, her pen she...

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Every step feels like a hurricane or twister, and it’s not child’s play
I keep letting go of the notebook, guess it’s time to review the frames
You can never walk on water if you don’t first...

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