Long Tumbledown Poems

Howami? hmm... good question,
but for some unknown reason
more tired than usual...,
without daily twenty four hours
proper rest, I feel haggard.

I strongly suspect (a hunch acquired
upon returning home
after visiting Notre Dame)
deep sleep interruptions...
attributed to uncontrollable need:
tap a...

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Morning has broken as it has done for many years
Day to day we continue without the fear of fears
Then out of the blue their comes thoughts from long ago
Prophecies of a past, that could halt...

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Myrtle Parker

Myrtle Parker lived on the Riviera,
That’s the English one not the French.
Her favourite tipple is Red Currant Cider,
Only beverage her thirst would quench.

Never did she marry no husband,
Preference for life single and free,
Though kept...

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fear seems to be the cause du jour
fear if it all just ended
shapes us like quivering jello molds

fear of the landline
tapping into our heads
fear of the landmine
careless gifts from the feds

electric shivers
primal and oozing
forgetting ripe...

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In a place many others often dread
Near the hollowed trees, and the haunted seas
She glides along the tumbledown cemetery
Deep down knowing those who are no longer living
Through bones remain, aren’t even truly dead

She’s Halloween even...

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Long, long ago in a land far away,
they lived a wise old woman who talked to the trees. 
She had a little crooked back and wobbly knees.  

She lived in a tiny tumbledown shack,...

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I not sure I’ll renew my poet’s license this
year, most of the keepers have been kept 
with the biggest ones caught, stuffed and hung
on the walls of tumbledown fishing lodges.
Although there are rumors, that the...

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Rolling clouds over rolling hills.
Kentucky is winding it roads out in endless curves.
No hurry,
this journey drives me
through its curling landscape
as a self-reading picture book of racial memories.

Born in a far way place, I feel rooted...

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She has a tumbledown deck, a creaky rocker.
Dandelion seeds carry memories
from one neglected garden patch to another.
She’s not old, but her wine has mulled,
the sun has scoured her face into a tracery
of twilit paths.

There were...

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She has a tumbledown deck, a creaky rocker.
Dandelion seeds carry memories
from one neglected garden patch to another.
She’s not that old, but her wine has mulled,
a hard sun has scoured her features.

There were children once. They...

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Hidden away on our lush verdant hills
are crumbling houses and derelict mills

These ancient buildings are tumbling down,
many people ignore them with a frosty frown!
 
If folks just opened their eyes and they weren’t so aloof
they’d...

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He sleeps late
because the milk cows have dried up
and the bulls long slaughtered.
There are no cowboys in the bunk house
just a couple of old chickens
pecking the dirt floor,
they produce, at most, one real egg a...

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Somewhere east of nowhere
stands a rust encrusted shed
In a paddock full of weeds
by a tumbledown homestead

A windmill goes on turning
though the bore has long run dry
and the fence posts are still standing
where the bones of...

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the end is not so close
but I'm still drowning
in all ponds of Mars
guilty and filthy
and walk down the alley 
of sombre solstice
swearing at walls
after the heist gone wrong

now the everlasting 
ambulance siren
echoes through 
the tumbledown...

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DILAPIDATED GLOBE


A weary pneuma bleeds
Tears of the miserable
The poverty-stricken tumbledown
The opulence shows gusto.

At the sight of the indigent
But very penurious in helping...
They live in safety isle
But parade in the dilapidated globe.

Masses weep
Agony of the wretched...

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Follow the red dirt road.
Take it slow, walk it,
this is not an exploration
nor a pilgrimage,
it is a short tour around
the beginning of an idea
and its end.

Move along
past the few rural homesteads,
pass beyond the shacks
and the...

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