Mysterious displacement of matters where
Spring forgets like fumbling fingers in blossoms
arresting visions lingering colossal
~jewels rule pastimes
Then Summer entertains those withering loss
call a drummer accost this way in breaths pools
beached conch shells malingering orange descends
~warms young beater's suite
A lifting Fall of memories beset heaps
across retiring boughs release the neglect
obliged astir spiced slumbers of golden birds
~chop resounds a weigh
Jack Frost recalled when Winter stalled -- cold resolve
blue glacier iceberg Irish temperature
pleased those icy treats cool in rime or freeze in
~luck pulls north-south poles.
Sharpness of sarcastic wit
Swiftness of tongue, closed mind,
Alienate family before you are done
Angry social media posts, throwing skeletons out of closets
Hostility seen months before holiday gatherings,
Back and forth missives that are not kind
Mouth and pen untethered, open season for babyishness
Flippant, remarks, rifts in the family,
Politics and religion, keeping you vastly apart.
Grandma’s funeral, guilt sets in, anger gone now
You all come together, hugging some, shunning others
Family never the same, thanks to ridiculous babyishness
A rumor has it
there is an open season
for breaking hearts, but
I have never thought that you
are going to shatter mine.
i want to say i took my shot and snared the woman with one thought
held my breath, tempting fate, i gave myself the day to prey
charged at the door from across the room i knew it simply wasn't true
traps and guises failed my amorous pursuit
i want to say all my truth from the moment i set eyes on you
masked and hidden from suspicion, the mouth speaks with aimed precision
words waking moments of shared pain following through side street plain
unarmed and adrenaline fused we went home
i want to do things with you that bring us back to childhood
learning with a string onside, tickling your recurved spine
our education a lifelong goal forging a promise: we'll break the mold
ignoring warnings and what we were told
There, .......in the meadow......
........exposed,
trembles my heart....
wide-open for all the
hunters of love to
view....
....frozen, in place....
muscles tense....
trying to avoid the self-
perceived dangers even
a slight flinch
may bring........
This place was once
a garden of rejuvination
and needed space ....
that healed all wounds,
now......an unsureness fills
the misty air, revealing
scattered pieces of what it
is this heart has been
running
from.....
words, like bullets, shot
forth from the trusted
emotion, called love.....
piercing, burning, betraying
my heart of the comfort
that lured me once before
to this meadow ......
A trophy, for an insecure
hunter with no passion of
his hunt?...not .this heart , it shall
return when the timing
feels right...and the clover
does not taste
quite so
bitter....
Shooting fish in a barrel with an AK-47
Or merely tripping on the bench in the park,
Where the leather whacks on willow
And a stairway to heaven
Plays in the lost pavilion in the dark.
Cucumber in white bread with the edges curling up,
A whiff of road-kill crawling on the breeze,
How I miss your scented pillow
When the final Winter frost
Melts from off the branches of the trees.
Declaring open season on the women I have known,
A turkey shoot if ever there could be,
Yet my aim was way off centre
Crass one-liners blithely thrown,
Lucky horseshoes in the dust of misery.
Daisy chains that strangle like a razor sharp garrotte
When seemingly so innocent and sweet,
I still shiver when you enter
In your shades of reds and blues
Open season on the free and easy meat.
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