A band of showy daffodils
Sway and
Their yellow trumpets
Blown by a bellowing wind
The Bluebells ring their dainty chiming bells
Songsters sing a sweet melodic lullaby
Painted Ladies clap their wings
Crickets mark out a Ruthmic beat
Woodpeckers do paradiddles
Bullfrogs provide the bass
Bees fill the rests
Eyes in the sky in profusion
Look down advisedly
Bigfoot listens hidden behind a tree
The stream trails its silver ribbons
Trout jump and splash
The fireflies guide visitors to their seats
The bluebells ring
The songsters above
Sing a sweet melody
Pondering the Year Ahead
New year, a fresh season's dawn,
Last year shadow fades, new purpose drawn
Fresh expectations and new dreams dreamt
Will the dreams come to pass and the expectations met?
It is not my first year,
I ‘ve spent sometime here,
Convictions were crafted in the past too with journeys intended,
Yet, in the past years, my goals have been suspended.
Now a tremor of fear takes hold,
Is it the familiar trend to uphold?
What is to be come of this year’s thread?
A weaving of triumph or moment to dread?
The common occurrence of defeat and shame?
Is there the tiniest hope of winning this game?
Will this year mimic the familiar frame?
Another tale of struggle, or an ascent to fame?
A new score sheet is here,
One devoid of yesteryear's stain,
Now, the time is come to make a gain,
Time to answer the clarion call to carve a mark out there,
And never had there been a better time to uphold the banner of my name
God delights in what pleases Him
so to mark out what's His good pleasure
it's not a horse's strength nor in man's leg
but God's not impressed with a human measure
What makes God's pleasure so divine
is seeing His image He has created
showing true godly reverential fear
which word of God has clearly stated
God is the Lord who is steadfast
this shows in His love so ever full
knowing you can have a certain hope
in which produces a real true jewel
Now it is right and indeed proper
to bring praise to God on high
for He deserves our Thanksgiving
since loving us in eternal heaven
Indeed the Lord has great pleasure
in His own who fill with fear
bow in humility at God's throne
knowing this great God is always near
("His delight is not in the strength of the horse,
nor his pleasure in the legs of a man,
but the Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him,
in those who hope in his steadfast love.
Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem!
Praise your God, O Zion!")
Psalm 147: 10-12 (ESV)
presupposing renewal of breath
continuity of memory linking time
gradually accepting our limitations
trauma bonding with habit patterns
spontaneity of innocence sacrificed
we mark out our territory in a cage
decorating it with objects of desire
of which creative impulse too a fetter
snarling if any intruder comes close
living alone in our cell with mirrors
in fading light
26-November-2022
The thought of I wouldn’t change you for the world,
Seems quite well known to me,
You are stuck in my mind
I cannot get you out,
Maybe... It’s because I don’t want to.
Maybe... It’s because I am scared of losing you.
You are stuck in my heart,
I’d say forever,
You have left a big mark out of a sudden
And I feel better,
When the thought of
I wouldn’t change you for the world runs in my mind
I feel peaceful and grateful that you are in my life,
You helped me to grow,
Maybe not physically, but mentally
You cannot imagine and compare,
For what you have done!
I will always be there.
When the snow melts all about, spring is here,
and when the daffodils sprout, spring is here.
When songbirds start appearing on the scene,
it leaves little room for doubt, spring is here.
When sweet sap rises in sugar maples,
and bears emerge from their dens; spring is here.
When Japanese cherry blossoms bloom pink,
while creeks fill with spawning smelts; spring is here.
When wasps and bumblebees start buzzing around
your first barbecue cookout; spring is here.
When hummingbirds and butterflies take wing,
and ants mark out trails to scout; spring is here.
When migrating songbirds start flocking home,
and honking geese head back north; spring is here.
Running with the wolf pack
As in a caged fury feeling stunted do not worry
Running reckless to & fro so much in a hurry
Shadows beckon the noise of the plow
Shelter lies dormant onto it's beckoning show
There in the mighty Tundra we shall see
To here the noise of shutters fluttering in the wind
There lies a champion from deep within now where to begin
We left are mark out on the whitened snow
Chained by a loose harness left on the running pack
Working to hard today can give anyone an instant heart attack
Those billows of slight rolling rocks through the outer banks
We hear the laughter yet wait for the cheer
There shines a brightened rainbow in the sky
The enchanting glow on the viscous long hanging fangs that bite
They bark then sneer through the loom of the Winter air
Feelings that I'm never coming back through the ice & debris
There lies in silence the response of a caged king & queen
Take hold of the reins through variation in a dream
Evil tyrants raid the path yet to be so very bold
The taunt of the finish line bent on a barbed wire fence
When will we learn to realize the nature of the beast within ?
Despair settles all around
Doubts, worries, scares mark out the land
Which way can normality be found?
Hazy shadows blur my view
All I have to live is you
Where dreams fall down
Where promises break
My mind cries out
Lost chances wasted
Despair sometimes engulfs my mind
Drowning my hope and killing my time
Though sorrow lives here I push it back
But when despair flares up I can't fight off its attack
I sometimes listen too hard
I sometimes reason too sad
The fool I know I am
Tries to find me in the stack
Tries to smile while I cry
Tries to bring light into my night
Sometimes I listen to the song
Sometimes I find the lyrics wrong
But this life is what I am
I just need someone to understand
She sleeps, her body lifeless in the ground,
A distant echo of memory lost,
And should her spirit ever dare be found,
Be sure you know you alone bare the cost.
For if her darkened heart should ever wake,
The soul of innocence shall surely quake,
As her sharpened talons mark out their score,
The purest truth shall kneel and beg for more;
On darkened wings she puts her love at stake,
She demands all that is make no mistake.
For she will take you to the realms of flight,
As on your own desire she comes to feed,
She will comfort your fear of darkest night,
For she is the angel to sate your need!
Form: Elemental Sonnet
Summers consist of
peridot mornings,
and emerald afternoons.
The trees filter the sunlight -
so often saving me from
those headaches, which might have
mutated, evolved into migraines.
By autumn, the leaves have changed colour:
a poet's palette of
amber, copper,
gold, and red.
In winter, the trees are slender,
with a stark, grey-brown beauty:
looking fragile,
yet able to endure
the harsh frosts of the season.
And, throughout the seasons,
"they" plot.
They want
a concrete Universe -
so they mark out their potential
victims, with orange spots.
The letters to local residents are headed:
"Implementation of
Environmental Improvements".
Yet, trees can bleed.
Scenes of carnage seal the deal.
They win; we lose.
So much wildlife, instantly evicted.
Fluorescent yellow workmen circle tree stumps,
inspecting their day's work -
before going for "a pint",
and home for tea.
Spring is cancelled.
The hours grows late and so the night bodes ill,
Another man falls, he did drink his fill.
And what fate do the streets take,
When the night cracks with a dawn break?
The rotten and unwanted fate,
Resented and repelled too late.
When the breath of man became disgrace,
Habitual of a hollow, heathen race.
And the cumbersome unrest of drunken sleep,
With a final sigh the streets does sweep.
Here unbidden wretches mark out their day,
In this sorry place they waste away.
As the city shifts focus from watchful eyes,
Concealing its dirt beneath painted lies.
Without a sound each night exhumed,
Then ritual veneer polished and re-assumed.
strole to the river as the sun starts to fade
a chiiling cold breeze as the leaves begin to wave
that was november as the new winter waits
with darkness and haze drawing over this world again
lost was my mind my body lost too
embraced in to solitude like a child in the womb
no more horizons to mark out the way
back to the place where i can play out my dreams again
lost in sea of dismember and lonelyness
a sword from the depths surenders to me
as a beam from the clouds clears away from this solitude
and a face in the stars come forth and smiles at me
sleep well tonight
Posted - 08/04/2006 : 12:14:43
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Hold it in your hand.
Look into the dark tunnels of it arms,
or are they ears? Peer into those inviting
depths; look right, then left and leap
into the warm embrace.
Spit when it taunts you.
Watch the cider-scented trail
mark out each cut and graze,
scars that lay like an A to Z
around the atrium, adding to the haze.
Let it lie against your chest
cuddling the frantic, fibrous wire
pacing repetitively on the back of beats.
Getting sloshed on the slashes of cherry -
an animated caricature - that wash against its face.
Clench it, crunch it, smack it and munch it
as it wriggles for escape. Pay hommage
to acidic tears that have raped your flesh
as you bind it, whip it, blend it, sip it
and wash away years.
Apologise, laying thick bouquets at its waist
then stroke the ventricle.
Fondle the fruity foliage that falls and lays placid
on the floor like diamonds,joining up cracks and corners
sizzling and symmetrical.