Lumbered Poems

Old Weeping Willow

Old weeping willow why do you cry
Your beauty is green leaves not blue
Your roots a pillow from which to thrive
As Mother Nature’s sun smiles on you

Many a kid has used your brown branches
To climb you or swing in your shadowy shade
Many a poet you inspire romantic antics
Carving heart in your bark or writing on page

Your children near and far mirror you
And some have been lumbered sadly
Furniture and houses made as proof
You must miss them being near badly

Do you weep due to lost dreams
Or is it the loss of your forest green
Is it because man pollutes the stream
Or you find no peace as we keep warring 

I’d like to apologize for our ignorant ways
For changing your forest for selfish reasons 
I hear your song in the wind each day
I cherish you at each every emerald season

So you stand on brown holy ground 
It’s holy because you peach persevere 
May you live forever in our town
As a preserved prize that thrives here

Lumbered

Early in a damp woodsman's camp
seeing sawyers from a logging town
to stop the conversation bogging down
as asked my age among other things
I replied, 'Cut off my head and count the rings,'
then had to be quick-witted and fast-footed
made a bee-line through the trees
so as not to lose my noggin
when a burly lumberjack grabbed his axe
I ducked and dodged his mighty swing
which (in a nonce) saved my bacon (and my bonce)
and them's the actual facts

The Soft Goodbye of a Mountain Bear

He woke to the hush of a mountain thaw,  
Where snow gave way to pine and claw,  
The breath of spring in the alpine air,  
Stirred the long slumber of the highland bear.  

His coat still thick with the sleep of frost,  
Not knowing yet what he'd gained or lost,  
He sniffed the wind with a gentle grace,  
And lumbered down from his shadowed place.  

The creek sang low, the sun cast gold,  
The world, once icy, now warm and bold.  
He moved like dusk through the melting white,  
Drawn by hunger, drawn by light.  

But the forest's edge was not the same,  
A ribbon of danger blacktop flame,  
Where speed and steel meet fur and bone,  
And wild hearts walk this path alone.  

On Highway 14, the silence broke,  
A screech, a thud, then rising smoke.  
No hunter’s cry, no cub’s soft call 
Just the stillness after a sudden fall.  

Now he lies in the morning haze,  
A monarch felled in the modern maze.  
And the pines bow low in the April breeze,  
As ravens circle in silent pleas.  

For not all who wake from winter’s keep  
Will find the spring they dreamed in sleep.  
The highway roars, but none may hear  
The soft goodbye of a mountain bear.

Smelling

TO BE ABLE TO SMELL THE SWEET SCENT OF BLOOMS
THE CRISPNESS OF FRESHLY CUT GRASS
THE WOODINESS OF A LUMBERED TREE
IMAGES IN YOUR MIND ARE CAST
THE SENSE OF SMELL IS SO DEFINING
IT ENABLES THE IMAGINATION TO BE FREE
SWEET, SPICY, WOODY OR MUSK
A CONNECTION TO IT THERE WILL BE
SMELLING SOMETHING AS IT COOKS
STRAIGHT AWAY IT’S OF FOOD YOU THINK
BUT THE SMELL OF SOMETHING BURNING
SUGGESTS FIRE AS THE LINK
IT’S A BLESSING TO HAVE THE SENSE OF SMELL
IT EXPLAINS WHY WE WERE BORN WITH NOSES
LIFE JUST WOULDN’T BE THE SAME
IF WE COULDN’T WAKE UP AND SMELL THE ROSES

Moody's Groove

rough lumber
and 32 inches of 
concrete stabilized cobb
with interior and siding
and rough lumber ends
to make the interior
look like a log cabin
a overlapping roof
with windows centered
16 inches inside
the
rough lumbered walls
a rustic modern
living area
to sheild the
persons from the
ruffs of winter
and the harsh heat
of sumer.

Nutcase

Why do I get lumbered with a nutcase on the bus?
I’m craving peace and quiet, so I won’t make a fuss.

But I don’t want to hear about his toenail collection,
or that he must take Viagra to maintain his ********!

Oh crikey, he doesn’t need it - he’s ‘rising’ in his seat,
and making lewd suggestions I’d better not repeat!

I gather up my shopping and make a false excuse,
I’d forgotten to get cat food for my pussy Bruce.

So I make a hasty exit, although it’s not my stop,
I’m in dire need of Valium from the chemist shop!

Next time I travel on the bus, I’ll feign I’m fast asleep,
and pray I’m not joined by any foul mouthed creep!

Butterflies

While my thoughts roamed in mindless slumber
Caught in dream like shrouds
I saw what looked like a myriad colors
Floating seraphic enchanted spells
Chained on sweet invisible melodies
Stealthy shadows in the sooty dawn
Charm and beauty in collision
Frolicking sentiment
The trove that the eye could claim but never have
Yet I lingered through the labyrinth of mystery
Drank the moment like favorite ale
Snorting a laugh
Trying to mimic the creatures
While my movements lumbered into awkward desire
Had I wings I would have joined the hypnotic congregation
In affectionate song and dance
That only butterflies can render in their silent flight

Dont Get Too Close

Don’t get too chose I cautioned my child.
He looks meek now, for he is sleeping, so he is mild.
But he is a bear, and he might be a grizzly at that.
The next thing I knew my child was waving his hat.

Standing on top of the giant sleeping bear of course.
The bear opened his eyes and I yelled out “Norse!”
Norse grinned at me and then slid down the giant’s neck.
The giant slapped at him with his paw, as if he were a speck.

“Take me!” I yelled as I ran toward the giant beast.
As a mother, it was what I could do, it was the least.
The bear stood up and lumbered off, ignoring us both.
“It was the scariest thing ever” I wrote down in a quote.

Surprise For the Forest Bear Warrior

ultimate forest bear warrior was not always an upright walking beast
He had been transmogrified by a wizard named Helcreast.
Helcreast had turned him when he had his eyes on his daughter.
He fooled him into this trickery with a drink of what looked like water.

he had no name now, his parents had given up hope
Missing for five years, his girlfriend had hung herself with a rope
Helcreast probably hated him now more than ever before
Today he saw the ancient sage outside and he gave a mighty roar.

He wanted to tear him apart, and kick his pieces down the hill.
His hatred was as intense as ever, suddenly the wind became still.
Grandpa! He heard, and his ears perked up at the sound, proud.
He lumbered down the hill, and was face to face to a child so loud.

Whose child is this? He asked Helcreast who had disappeared from view.
Wizard had handed the child a cup, and he was drinking water so blue.
Poof! The child turned into a forest bear warrior cub, was this child his?
He picked up his offspring, and wandered off, amazed at the power of the wiz.

Flames

We were flying back
              after flattening Coventry,
all of us cheerful,
confident young men,
                                        all heroes.

On the return landing,
amazingly
we saw that the airfield was deserted -
strange,
for we had left with many aircraft,
the mission a great success.

Then from the ruins of a hanger
they appeared,
people of all ages, families,
all wore gasmasks;
their torn clothes smoldering.

Bewildered we raced back
to the bomber.

Aboard once more
we lumbered into the night sky,
                                    where later
we were shot down
      as we fire-bombed Dresden.

An Encounter of the Fourth Kind

Last night a great heaviness
fell through the roof
dropping like a boat anchor into my dreaming mind.

It was sentient,
a being as hard as steel and massively stupid.
I felt its dumb confusion, its awkward alarm,
I winced as it lumbered around my head-space
crashing into my own startled thoughts
though I realized on some level of awareness
that I was still living in a bad dream.

The brutishly bulky being wanted answers,
I wanted answers, the dream had no answers.
Eventually that solid hulking creature gave up
turning my inner-state over and smashing
my neuronal workings over its big stony head.

Oblivion took us both.

When daylight unveiled the long night
I looked about me
the bedroom was not ransacked
but my brain was blinking on ‘check engine’ light,
and something was still asleep
on the backseat of my mind.

Tonight I will take a strong drink and 2 Ambien
incase its guttural snoring, or its chaotic dreams
wakes me up again.

Pit and Pen-Do-Lumbering

edgar
...all in...
po'ed

...his thoughts...
in a pit and
...pen-dew lumbered...

his words as stains
...on poe...
at tree

stans sand

The Fern Wheel

The melody was soothingly refreshing, coming from the east.
Do you hear it? I asked the others, including an ugly wildebeest.
It’s the fern wheel, he said, acting terrified of the Zen-like tune.
He lumbered off to do some Halloween howling at the moon.

I had forgotten what a pansy wansy this dandy can be.
I looked at the rose bush and said “How pathetic is he?”
The rose bush shut her eyes and shushed me in a hot way.
She wanted to hear the fern wheel’s song over his ugly bray.

Seriously I said, is that really just a common fern wheel?
Not ordinary in any kind of way, she replied. Here is the deal.
The fern wheel was transmogrified from the good witch of the north.
I could tell you more about it, she said and so forth.

A Tower of Babble

opening scene
scenery at rest
maybe open
plains or

undisturbed
wilderness

then a tide seems
to ripple a rise as
is risen a little at
each time as

a calming breeze blows
clean white sheets on a
laundry line as the camera
shows horizontally what

are brief and subtle puffs
of something growing
beneath the pressed 
to be released

slowly erecting

the projector's screen
becomes a brick wall
showing edges bumps
and texture yet remains

flat
and with exactly that
the reel runs in reverse
showing a toppled tower

rising back to how it stood
a lumbered tree once again 
a hard wood standing 
at attention

not at ease militarily
but waiting for a
spoken stroke of
command

yes ma'am 
yes ma'am
no ma'am
turning my

head and
coughing

Hiber Nation

i took her paw
in mine as we
lumbered

having been
fattening for
what we knew

was too fast
coming upon
but must on

us as we
sleepily
agreed

that cave over
there has nice
decor with lots

of lichen of
  different
    colors

so not saying 
that we stretched
a mile but we

stretched out in
style
each finding our

own
comfort
zone where

our
bones
became

one
with
the

frozen
slowly
breath

in g

not fro
Zen
slo

w ly
brie
thing

yum
that
french

cheese
paired
with

a two
thous
and

fif
teen
bore

doe
now
she's

aged and
laying so
near me

in a
bare
dream

her hair
had ex
tent

ions but
i rem
ember

the
spark
starting

this poem
when i
took

but
should've
asked for her 

paw and she 
placing hers 

in mine but not
a mine but a
cave where

i need to
remember
when the bed

springs wake
us to always
say to her

i love you

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