craze pops like a popcorn
roasting after every season of a newborn
awaiting what it looks, feels like trying new
zapping the line or cue in askew
ends short within a year or two after brew
fad drops like a snow when you're off guard
anything new, pleasing, soft, gentle or hard
different generations had them all --
some forgotten or dated to discard
fashion in modes move silent or loud over time
accessories, clothes, gadgets, machines, activities that consume your time
shoes worn, strings, sessions, social life people embrace
holidays celebrated, hypes, hope and holograms that may float or vanish without a trace
invitations, parties, gatherings of the unified
on gates, nooks and sites that require ticket, passkey, passcode that divide
new and old craze, fads and fashion
combined in an open, classified space in tide
moves stealthily from corner to corner, hides in the nooks and crannies.
Ah, to dust
To seek the nooks and crannies
Of mysteriously clustered history
To pursue the fleeing dust kittens
Cleanse the demon ‘neath the bed
Run a finger over the door jam
To peek into the silent corners
Of a creaky home’s history
Uncover faded initials
On jack knife carved hearts
And wonder
Ah, to dust
Knowing you will leave your trail
Atop a now too high to reach bookcase
Behind that always crooked picture frame
On the cover of a never finished book
Upon a phone that has forgotten how to ring
Ah, to dust
To wonder
Where it came from
Where it will go
And why it always returns…
O, Mimi, my sweet sincere late dear friend,
To chase foul pests, on you I did depend,
With soft paws you danced through radiant days,
With whiskers waltzing in such gentle ways.
Your eyes grey blue, sparkled with knowing grace,
In every corner, you sprawled your quick pace,
Rats and mice dreaded your presence, your race,
You chased them away from all nooks and space.
Mimi, former companion calm and true,
With velvet softness of your pat, you knew
How to spin shrines of solace, how to play,
Marking what my heart vastly miss today.
Though on you now resides the earthly veil,
Your spirit softly stretches in the gale,
In every shadow, every spark of light
Your memory sparkles, forever bright.
Rest now, dear Mimi, in tranquillity,
For as, scripted by hands of destiny,
We may cross roads in the span of the sky,
So tender and tenacious was our tie.
The weeping willow tosses in the wind
its seeds fall in a haphazard way,
landing in all nooks and crannies.
Sprouting buds break the earth
in no particular order for this birth.
A tree begins to grow
and a connection is made with another.
The two trees intertwine both limbs and roots,
bringing a union of a sort.
They are coupled in all ways
sharing rain drops and sunshine
as they hover over one another.
Then their growth takes a different path,
branches straight across twisted ones,
roots running shallow over deeper ones,
sun and rain that no longer feed.
The entangled inseparableness that gave them such strength,
now at its core would only bring angst.
The binding bond that had been their crucial crest,
now symbolic of a misguided quest.
To tear apart their growth together,
may seem damaging forever.
But without this desperate separation,
leaves and flowers will have trouble creating.
Ireland; coast and bits which aren’t
the Irish; ephemeral stuff of books
words to-ing and fro-ing
chieftains, crooks, priests, poets, playwrights
and ejitts
no more reigning, pontificating
breaking rules or playing the fool
but dark drink somehow surviving
somewhere in special, nurtured nooks
stained by the land
phrases blown and scattered in the wind
remnants here and there
or else off-planet
the island of collisions is heading
for the Arctic when the west will face north
troubles lie behind and beyond the headland
icebergs may congregate along the shore
oscillating to the warming, cooling dance
stump of mountain still surrounding
depleted bog and the sinking flora floor
still hiding lump of ancient wood and men
land bridges may reform
snakes may return
wee shamrocks still appearing
between the craic remembering
A mirage
Reflecting another path
Showcasing another life
Man to man
A timeless wonder
Ravaging the mind
Distorting thoughts and persons
Transcending sages
Traversing phases
Life, a treacherous haven
Selling tenuous dreams
Whispering delirious melodies
Slithering into nooks and crannies
Branching far and wide
Dispensing the message
Selling the vision
Deep ache in my heart lies
A sorrowful shade spreads in all nooks of my room
Hot tears rise
The sun shines bright
Still my life is filled with deep gloom
Upright,
My plight
Vouchsafed to doom`s
Blight
Deep ache in my heart lies
Still my life is filled with deep gloom
Blight
A young girl looks
Back at me
All the curves and nooks
And hurt one can’t see
Saws shaved the corners
A router smothered imperfections
Grinding down burners
- Nostalgia is infectious
Shoes trod the once polished wood
Running feet…
Feet running…
Stomping feet…
Feet stomping….
Handling as much as I could
Until the lamella chips
off
Piece - by - Piece
The perfectly crafted oil-dipped
Plank
Falls
Apart
A plank has no peace
Communities argue for it to be ripped
But that little girl
Saw the warped curl
And understood.
Yesterday I tried to be perfect
But looked through eyes of childhood
And saw beauty in the wrecked
My hands in the autoclave
It is no disaster
No mistake
Complete sterilization
Not quite yet cremation
Free of my predation
I crawl through a cavernous cave
Its wet walls perspiring
Nooks like glands
Gulleted by the monster
Steep feet without falter
Skull space I foster
I lay in a shallow grave
No need for depth
In this loamy cradle
No longer death I seek
But whatever keeps me weak
Hyphae drink the fluid I leak
Protected; not me, but you
Dissected; they bore me through
An ending to my disgrace
Put me in my place
January is never meant for blue
It is always of pure gold and the pearls
These days, if you wouldn't argue how true
It has done the do, January curls
Forgive January for its merry
Seized up by December's bill payment
And its galore enjoyment, unwary
Toasting eyes of its darling assortment
It was like a mile of thousand gazes
Grievous goodbye's wish, everyday is long
Seems unfortunate like lonely phases
How ideas run in disarray so wrong
December has blessed January rooks
In its entirety of heavenly nooks
Surely, the troubling peace of previous nights
Shall I see no more from February
The class dinner that breakfast deeply benights
Happy to see the best cautionary
Grateful for the opportunity, Sir
Knowing fully what time mean to pretend
Have I to unseal the veil not so blur?
Or get mind accepts to become unbend?
All baggages' swags claim to be of prudence
Young mind; old way home to pickup any
See discordant bail out of innocence
Enforce blinded choice on times so many
Thanks dearly Sir for the closed eyes given
No offense but heal flurry once driven
The Journals find their way,
easy, inspired self delusional displays,
one or two ,
written most every day,
but as the months now years begin their exit call,
the words flow more fluidly
than time alone can recall,
written down along line and page
the secret refuge of mind sway
left to random flutterings and utterings
the missing points of this aging sage,
hide in the accumulated books
shelved on dusty nooks
of private enterprise without lie
the wordings not for you.
Hello, my dearest friend
Skip together till the end
Laughing by the river brooks
And searching through book nooks
Smiling until the end of time
Friendship ages like red wine
Magic waits in books
for young girls reading at night
in their cozy nooks.
In moon glow and candle light,
imagination takes flight.
Fancy flights erupt
from candlelight encounters
in the cozy nooks
where books await curious
seekers of new adventures.
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