One sad day, some years ago,
I got news that my father passed away.
He lived a long and happy life,
so I felt joy and sadness on that day.
Perusing a box of photographs and things,
his drawing, a poignant feeling, would evoke.
In his childhood crayons, it was beautiful -
a tree that seemed to be an oak.
Between a person's years of birth and death,
there's only a hyphen left to show,
but, in my father's unexceptional life,
he left something more - I know.
My brothers and I, quite frankly,
I would not celebrate.
Many fathers before and after him,
by having offspring, regenerate.
Yet, when I was a boy of nine,
My dad would, my brothers and me, provoke,
by planting in our front yard football field,
a native sapling, a California oak.
That tree is now my favorite brother,
huge, but kind and strong,
hosting an entire ecosystem,
with squirrels, and birds, in song.
In their short life upon this earth
many want to build a legacy.
Here is my advice for them and those.
On a sunny day, go plant a tree.
As it was our last night in Santander
we went out for a meal somewhat grander
Perusing the set menu I did choose
three courses with complementary booze
The waiter who came a glass did pour
leaving the bottle for me to have more.
How generous this seemed at such a good price –
those refills of wine did more than suffice;
yet what remained seemed such a shame to waste,
so I poured a glass for Olivia to taste.
With adventures in Spain so soon to lapse
we were thankful for all we'd enjoyed and relaxed.
Soon came the time to our room to adjourn,
I felt in control and steady for the return.
But on our departure I missed a step
and fell to the left. So I must accept
that a glass too many had been imbibed.
Down on the street, Olivia at my side,
a trinity of youths then rushed to my aid,
an old man on the floor before them splayed.
Muchas grazias, I said, when stood upright
relieved to be unhurt on our last night.
The owl, sipping port in his study,
Perusing philosophy muddy,
Proclaimed “Kant is cant,
And read more I shan’t,
I well know a fowl fuddy-duddy!”
For a decade now self-appointed meterologists
have been screaming ‘climate change’ and ‘global warming’
Yesterday perusing a professional journal
I bookmarked a piece titled, “New Ice Age Forming”
Is it time for the world’s Greta Thunbergs, their shouts to change
from ‘Heat Wave’ to “Snow on the Range”
up in the middle
of the night
rubbing the cold
from my arms
perusing a book
and a few poems
can’t sleep
but I will retreat
back to warm blanket
on top of the sheet
and of course
I have to pop out of bed
early
I’m not missed
my spouse is asleep
he won’t even know
I’ve been reading
and sipping cold milk
house is humming
as it does
in complete silence;
only my talking head
good night
good 2:30 O’clock
Perceiving the passing parade of people
walking by outside my window
a never-ending stream an endless tide
they come and go on a never-ending ride
nine-to-fivers barely alivers
running round and round on a wheel
lost in a maze can they really be real
the passing parade will always be there
while the world spins and goes its own way
the passing parade has nothing to say
while the world turns another day
perusing the passing parade of people
wandering by outside my front door
a never-ending crowd an endless horde
they're still keeping a never-ending score
weekend warriors none more sorrier
racing round and around in a wheel
lost in a daze do they ever even feel
there are those with noses high in the air
who can't smell the roses totally unaware
and others with eyes held down on the ground
never taking the time to look around
I have meny regrets in my life time. when I was little I use to be happy but now I'm just a ball of rage. I started to do drugs to make me happy and it's worked yes but it also made it so when I am sober and having an episode my rage is uncontrollable. trying to stay clean is something I don't regret what I do regret was letting someone peer perusing me to use them I'm tired of it all I'm tired of all the mistakes I make. drugs has helped me but its also made my life worse. the people I hang out with only hang out with me because I got drugs and alcohol that's another thing I regret drinking alcohol letting the some person who told me drugs would fix my life tell me the same thing about alcohol I wish I never met him but my biggest regret is letting the love of my life go.
A Chinese Sonnet
The fog glides softly over the river' sigh.
A fisher heals his net of dreaming;
He knows the star is not for catching.
A heron curtsies where the water bends.
Its wings remember the spirits of ancestors.
Each ripple replies softly-''All ends,And yet
nothing truly ends''
The oracle rests alongside the current,
Perusing stillness,not words in the flow.
'' Truly'',she says ''is what the heart concedes,
not what the tongue commands?''
Dusk moves down,beacons shiver on the river.
The river keeps the mysteries of those who listen.
Fascinated, Gainfully Harnessed, Impishly Joyful
Again, a contest I can't deny.
There's someone though, who makes me grateful
While I sit and ponder, knowing my.
Kind, Loyal, Muse, Nicely Observes
My constant request for her inspiration.
By finding words this poem deserves
Through her obliging communication.
Perusing Quests Requires Studious Time
To edit, correct, some lines rearrange.
Ensuring then my end words all rhyme
Therefore, deliberate lines to exchange.
Unquestioned Victory, With Xenial Yes!
Together my muse and I agree.
These words are ours, but now confess
My secret muse is really like me!
at a patio table
sat a pangolin and penguin
pondering
and there they pursued
under a parasol
perusing
diving with questions
delving for answers
they had a universe
in front of them
unpicked
undone
suited and solved
by the pangolin and penguin
Take of a turn of three
time to talk of penumbra tales
beneath a taramond tree
trials and wailings of two lives in the vale
The life of young from it infancy
thence gradual, conventional neither fantasy
the sweetest of them all to behold
incomparable to an undelectable life of old
The sun and snow that oldlings won't deign
in them, we striplings all times do reign
like the suns of Africa, stronger shining wards
young wild eagles of Amerie, freely soaring beyond word
Dearest mates from the state of mine
move not like king Solomon's mine
who danddied, drove so great and high
cruising, perusing our skin into prime
yet says its vanity, a full of crime
we chaste conquerors, with wreathe all nigh
Ruined by puddles of porch rain
before you had a chance to bring it,
much less break it in;
The robotic reply of ‘Order canceled.
Your item is out of stock. Refunded.’
throws you into a total panic;
As far away as it seems,
there was a world before Amazon;
A girls day of enraptured perusing,
labels brand boxes and Big Brown bags;
A flurry of stores flowing with specialities
speak to patrons who pause then pay them;
Pulling apart plastic to try that purchase,
nothing feels quite like retail therapy;
Pivot from store to store bargain hunting,
in the end you always leave with something;
As far away as it seems,
there was a world before Amazon;
At the mall you don’t need patience,
just indulge instant gratification;
No need for a new notification;
Online is simple, until it isn’t.
If we were forced to let computers go?
We’d still keep spinning and shopping.
As far away as it seems,
there was a world before Amazon.
Dear Karen, there’s something I need:
I’ve got you a poem to read.
A deficit in one’s attention
is probably best left unmentioned.
If boring writes get you distracted,
my outcome’s adversely impacted.
For when the dear reader is addled,
strong placements just up and skedaddle.
Before you’ve a chance to retort,
just know that I’m keeping it short.
Disorder escapes its confines
perusing these final two lines!
It is the season of Giving Thanks
so I am perusing my life
for things to be thankful for
and I have so many
I give thanks for my family
and the unique personalities
that are within and most
of all the loving hearts
I give thanks for my spouse
who has travelled this road of
life with me for more than
30 love filled years
I give thanks for good friends
who make each day special
and make me laugh
even when laughter is hard
I give thanks for my creativity
and the joy that it brings to
my life each day as I express
myself with words or music
Most of all, I give thanks for
my faith, the rock on which my life
is built and the many ways that
God blesses me on a daily basis
I breathe poetry into my lungs,
It is my lifeline,
Together, we have climbed many rungs,
'tis a great pastime!
I breathe poetry out to the world,
It is my message,
My thoughts in rhymes and verses unfurled
on the written page!
I breathe poetry into my veins,
It refreshes me,
I pen it down in rhythmic refrains,
'tis my muse's plea!
I breathe poetry out to the earth,
It is my musing,
I etch it in paper for it's worth
someone's perusing!
I breathe poetry into my blood,
It keeps me alive,
I cannot stem it when feelings flood,
It helps my mind thrive!
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