Short Clods Poems

Rich, dark clods of soil
I drink deeply of their spoil
Boiling it all down...

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My heart finds it odd—
Clods nor pods get close to God,
Flowers from bowers!
__________________________________
    Senryu | 01.03.18 |...

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Suburban farmers till the ground
With rotor-blades that spin around
Slicing clods in two.
Suburban Eden, lost—then found
Every Spring, anew....

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Dip 'em in caramelized honey or gummies
Without it, they taste kinda funny and runny
A Carnivale only for bobblehead gods
A barrel of laughs for the rest of us clods
That are blubbering bobbling bobbers bobbing 
For corn-on-the-cob
...

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on tip of a wisp
as it bevels and bloats
streamlined scribbles etching a note
upturned waves collapsing
in cotton bobs
greys and embers mating a mistake
ethereal tendril veins knitting patters undone
phoenix fogs missed mist
of almost pink...

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Bright daffodils adorn the ground
And rise where winter clods were found;
The air is full of scent and song,
(To God both flowers and birds belong);
Sorrows shaking heart and mind
Fall, as blossoms, in the wind.
Now Spring has come, and winter's past
Oh do not pass us by so fast!...

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She makes an early showing, 
her warm breath blowing;
an Eastern sunrise glowing, 
flowers up and growing.

Melted icebergs flowing, 
men on tractors sowing;
loose dirt clods throwing, 
barnyard roosters crowing.

Suddenly, it's snowing; 
frosty winds now mowing.
Wily smile, all-knowing; 
fleetingly, she's going.

Spring . . . such a tease...

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No one here I see
 To break   the clods 
Of the path you walk or take   
But they all closely watch 
 Where you put your footsteps   

No one will write a single line 
Even if you go for oblivion 
But they all read very closely 
Every word  of the book 
 You compose for your life 


Sweet or sour
Whatever fruits of your deeds you bear
And hang upon the boughs of your sweet name
No one will carry for you
You have taste all those alone...

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polydactyl fractals
and digital manipulation
like "fat fingers"
pushing "astroturf" clods
and "usefull idiots" onto the street
into the traffic
goose stepping in lockstep
against what they're for
    unaware
their prophets decrying profits
(historically elite)
the politburo oligarchy
with power
from the barrel of a gun
and needing Adam Smith
  to eat
but oh well
what's a few hundred million
    citizens
  between fiends?...

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It has been written,
you can’t compare anything
to God nor God to anything;
yet, all is in and of God.
The moon can’t be compared
to the sun; yet, she reflects everything
he is and will ever be in being.
Only eyes, and only in the night,
can reflect the other stars’ twinkling light.

It is said that dirt is the soil of the Earth
and the mud thereof; even clods.
Can the air be winds and the winds air?
Breezing all of this tends to blow the mind....

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Reaching for the sky
that isn't there
breathing clods of dirt
as they hide within the air
Only hear the silence
other noises can't catch my eye
Don't you get it
Cant you smell the visions
Lateral pressure
Unsupported
Hold my head
Hi still with me
I write what i can't free
buried somewhere
named me
was my fathers gift
unless you count his fist
ewes wards hat r knot write
use words that are not right
Let these lines take flight
stealing the last of me...

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