Long Pad Poems

 Die storie van Klara viljee . My insperasie babbel vol duine.
Die storie van Klara viljee . My insperasie babbel vol duine.

voel jy soms verlore , praat haat, woede en vrees met jou ? Is...

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The first soft snow: 
leaves of the awed jonquil 
bow low
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

Come, investigate loneliness! 
a solitary leaf
clings to the Kiri tree
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

The cheerful-chirping cricket
contends gray...

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Dusk-gliding swallow, 
please spare my small friends
flitting among the flowers! 
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

A bee emerging
from deep within the peony's hairy recesses
flies off, sated
—Matsuo Basho translation by Michael R. Burch

That dying cricket,...

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It’s heading for our planet at ten thousand miles an hour
To stop it all the experts say we haven’t got the power
All the nukes in all the world won’t constitute a plan
So someone said, ‘All...

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[First posted in 3 parts. Intended novel: time never allowed]

Prologue
This,  Sir, is the prologue from before our tale begins
About the day our father did succumb to mortal sins
And left behind a man who would...

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The biggest funeral I've ever attended...


Thelma was a waitress at the diner on the corner of 4th and Oak, across from Ron’s DX, in Abilene.
They had an old brass register that rang when it was...

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       Back Door Side Door Front Door : Which door might a Confucian take
 
..................for René ETIEMBLE (Jan. 26, 1909 – Jan. 7, 2002)*

In homage - dedicated to the...

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Red light, the neon beer sign on the distant wall reflects off the long expanse of polished bar top, overpowering the quiet brown wood. It’s after lunch, only a few people in to stir the...

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  from island corner, big Antrim lad
  to Belfast city, a tiny pad
  shattered windows, tilted clocks
  Goliath had lost his socks
  gargantuan giant going mad

  Armagh apple girl,...

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"Again... I apologize but threefold times                             ...

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I cry at baptisms, funerals,  and touchy movies. There are more                       ...

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                                  ...

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I’m not saying my father hated the English, God forbid. If he were still alive, he’d hate to hear me say that. He’d correct me right away and say he didn’t hate the English. Truth...

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           I saw her writing in the rain,
               Bent to shield...

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The past scampers out of view. 
Like the paw prints of a cat running to the bush.
The wheel of time follows no straight line.
As we sometimes trace back over the lines.
In the recesses of our...

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~writer's notes~

i think out loud
from my fingers to a keyboard 
so forgive me if my speak
is somewhat long winded
if it has swirls and curls
this is me
hopefully you want to hear
my voice in its totality

~the prologue~

just...

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                      I
 Remember when days were long
   and all de children do...

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Oh to vacation behind the heavy metal door
To escape another election year.
All news is stopped at the door by the guards
Whoever sit in the same place
Waiting
Always
Waiting to retrieve all banned goods
And outside time. 
Between med...

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 I finished my work early  this morning 
and went outdoors to exercise 
I jogged around the circle for a while
and  observed  a few things happening outside
A pickup truck parked on the...

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ThanksGiving advances

Arising thoughts about boundary breaching risks
and perennial partisan issues
and deep listening opportunities.

Perhaps only the Othering
and Othered One Percent
instilling in their children
and future grandchildren
that extended family meals
are never an appropriate time
or sacred space
to speak of...

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The Five Secrets"

?????? I had this amazing dream .....

I had this dream. I dreamt I was in this room and there were bookcases from floor to ceiling on all four walls, with no windows. The...

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This is just me writing a verse
About whatever came up first when the dictionary gave me a random word

Matricide

It was all going well I'd never felt better
I've been happy since we got together
You were always...

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 A couple weeks ago today, while I was sleeping in,
And lay so very unprepared to have the day begin,

I thought I heard the doorbell ring and slightly twitched my head…
I hoped I had imagined...

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I often sit for long periods of time
hoping the perfect beginning will come to me.
To write a poem that starts with a pristine Capital
leaving readers with great expectations.

But after much torment, with not a fleck...

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Days like these...the days that drag on and on
If only it was quiet everywhere
if only it were quiet inside my head
Too bad, so sad
this carefully orchestrated area of noise
is just part of the elements that...

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