Autumn leaves an aftertaste that kisses cold.
Then transfuses startled green veins with gold.
A shivering whisper, slips through oak and elm.
As faded yellow disciples tumble from their realm.
As it hums through wheat; the heavy heads bend low.
To ripen while the last warm amber winds still blow.
A long-drawn-out sigh, draws summer from its reign,
Gold and red leaves tumbling down to an empty lane.
Thin mist curls upwards from the cooling ground,
Cold breath slips down, through cracks, without a sound.
Gasps rattle shutters, and worry the tiles and doors.
Sends dry leaves scurrying like mice around the floors.
Autumn breathes on apples till their red cheeks glow,
Then thumps them down one by one onto the ground below.
It finds the restless geese beneath the cloud.
And beckons them south, to join the gathering crowd.
At dusk its voice turns hoarse, as darkness grows.
Growing rasping and raw, with winter up its nose.
Then Autumn, now breathless, loosens one last leaf.
It spins to Earth, collapsing, in gold-flared relief.
Sometimes a simple question
needs a simple answer,
other times, a lecture.
I adhere to the principle of truthfulness, irrespective of the consequences. He asked if I had any affection for him, which reminded me of a mathematical question posed by my second-grade teacher. Maintaining a composed manner, I replied in the negative. His response exhibited a noticeable change in demeanor. I firmly believe that honesty holds significant value, regardless of potential outcomes. The inquiry, "Do you love me?" has been addressed to me on numerous occasions, more than I am inclined to mention; I interpret it as a politically charged statement. (Increase in social security benefits)
Sometimes a simple question
Needs a simple answer
Other times, a lecture.
And as for me, I hate having long, drawn-out lectures
Today I am celebrating my 69th Sunday, 2026
It is well with my soul.
Long drawn out nights
chasing dreams in chariots
waking in a toga
Bewilderment and toxicity,
Is all I could see.
Living for so long,
In this world, trying to be strong.
I tried with all my might,
To win such a long drawn-out fight.
Until one day the darkness nearly won,
Darkness and I nearly became one.
Then one small light shown in the distance,
My soul was finally taking a stance.
I am worth more than this mere ending,
I am worth love and befriending.
I walked away from all which held me down,
You won't believe what I found.
Joy, peace and people who cared.
It was there for me, if only I dared.
I picked up my pain and sadness; I put it away,
I'll deal with that yet another day.
Now I know who I am, and what I will do,
I will seek the help I need and always praise you.
Dressed in their Sunday best
Toothy grins
Pristine shoes
Eyes sparkling with joy
A simple family picture
The epitome of innocence
'Spick and span' as they would say
A nice family outing
Where you ask?
Church?
A family picnic?
Day trip?
No.
They dressed up in their Sunday best
To watch a black man succumb to a slow and labored death
To watch his long drawn out last breath
The slowed movement of his chest
Giggling as the now still mans body stops all movement
They await their turn to take picture
A forever reminder of their first lynching
My Silent confessions were echoes retrieved,
from layers of longings, Often dreamt of with care.
My thoughts were well hidden, Lest others perceived,
the ring of Inane truths I could let slip out, into the air,
when angst sent Laments lilting out, when not just right.
I posed the questions I Often cradled with spite,
answering all the Queries I never wanted to hear,
hoping to wrap them all Up in one giant tear,
to be shed with a Yen to be rid of them all,
In a Speech to myself in a long drawn out drawl.
I'm the flicker, the flame, the spark when you can't see,
I'm the moonlight in the dark, a mystery.
I'm the rustling in the leaves, the breeze and the trees,
And maybe the wolf's howl on the wind whispers, "That's me."
A long, drawn-out sound, both wild and free.
My roots run deep, a Cherokee decree,
And when I stomp the earth, its strength flows into me.
The river flows onward, a path my spirit knows.
Where in its cool depths my true reflection shows.
I don't know if I'm the beautiful wolf or the woman,
Yet, I know I have them both running through my veins.
A short walk from the road
you are deep in forest.
Tall mountain ash form
pillars that hold up space
and keep a cathedral
of shade within its walls.
High overhead, a canopy
of leaves curtain the sky
in prayerful whispers.
Tree ferns crowd a gully
where fallen giants bridge
a creek carrying a trickle
of mountain tears.
You keep your silence
not wanting to intrude
on another's grief.
Sometimes you can hear
lyrebirds perform their repertoire
of mimic song. One, they say,
can copy the sound
of a chain saw, another,
the long drawn out whine
of a siren as it races
towards a fire.
The Figure
The day ends
in a long drawn out sigh
as if done with the heat,
folding into the evening
to soothe where sunburn
has peeled back life
to a hurt.
The dry earth waits
for a few drops
of dew to fall
from trees.
Flying overhead
the dark silhouettes
of fruit bats
give a menace
to the skies,
they seem like angels
fleeing from hell.
This is the time
he emerges
from the shadows,
his course close to walls
as if trying to avoid
open ground.
Some have almost caught
a glimpse of his face
when rounding a corner,
head down, intent
to look away
and avoid a stare.
He appears featureless.
And yet all know him,
his shape filling
a familiar space
reserved for fear.
If you call out
he will never
answer but just
retreat further
into the night, deeper
into your mind.
The night swallowed her, quiet as the sea,
Where the waves carried whispers, heavy and deep—
Sara, a ripple lost in the currents of time,
A flicker gone dark beneath the moon's hollow eye.
Oceans curled their backs to kiss the blue sky,
Choked on salt and her long drawn out sighs, drowning what they knew—
Her words, her marrowed bones, her soft, dissolving light
Faded brown foam, softly entered the night .
What does the earth remember of her?
The ground never speaks.
A wound wrapped in roots, bruised by forgotten feet,
While people, fleeting shadows, scavenge the shore
For echoes, shells, the small dust of her name.
Only the moon, that pale, silent judge,
Still sees the dance of waves, oceans, and sky—
A rhythm born of grief, endless as her loss,
Turning the world beneath a weeping star.
Love is not a long drawn out plan,
It’s sudden; you’ll never see it coming.
At first it’s an eye roll and a curled nose,
Then it’s doey eyes and hearts beside names.
Before love, life almost seems like a leaf in the wind,
Already bound to touch the ground.
After it is a downpour of emotions,
Realizing that a life without them would be incomplete.
Everything you’ll do is for your love,
Each breath you take, every heartbeat,
Even waking up and falling asleep.
All the small and the big things are for them.
It’s living a life in the middle of a lightning storm,
A stomach of constant butterflies,
And it’s sweaty fingers, like when you first met.
You almost don’t want to blink, afraid it will slip away.
It can become phone calls each night,
Then transform into two cups of coffee in the morning,
It may even become a pair of feet running down the hall;
Just don’t let it slip away or it could be nothing at all.
This is a story of parents raising three children, a wonderful adventure you have to know
Children are brought into this world by a loving couple who are planting seeds to help them grow
Raising a family in today's world is no easy chore
A future of fun and games is surely in store
Balancing of work and family. patience is required, a science in itself
Bedlam on this rainy day, a mess everywhere with books flying off the shelf
Looks like another round of bargaining is about to begin
Negotiations with children is a long drawn out fight, getting them to listen consider it a win
Kids turn into grownups somewhere along the way
Take the time to listen to them you may be surprised at what they have to say
Lives you have created and soon you will set them free
All your hard work raising them is about to pay off, you just have to wait and see
deep in the trenches
a forest of cardboard trees
and stained glass windows
twiddling pieces through fingers
sizing up like private eye
a piece here…and there
like a long drawn out story
finally middle latched shut
and made the sign of the cross
now I aim for the quadrants
A faithful atmospheric worth of you,
equal in statuesque rainbow possess.
Grace a forest wake to rumored jewel,
long drawn-out winks ethereal blesses.
Favoring flowers blossoming parades,
a living garden hails its ambitions.
Hovers a bee stared yearning serenades,
nigh turnout unequal kinds, auditions.
Ode claims Rainbow Butterfly to whom shares
glory to its signature character,
beliefs prestige for reserving crosshairs.
Incepts moniker beings cofactor,
chicks or the eggs, and who'll take second best?
Rainbow suave sky soars the aliferous.
The long-drawn-out throb of my core,
Mounting up my red lane,
It is so cold, my eyes are all sore
My atonements have been in bane,
One swell of solecism
Exonerating mine deeds unfeasible to deem,
My soul cries to death
My beautiful dreams drifted.
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