Short Dendrite Poems

no physical adventure
can hope to compare
to the adventure of imagination
verdent green vines of ideas
lurk deep in the recess of my dendrite highways
waiting to surprise me...

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Mine is a lively lunacy
at three am
the witching hour

full moon insanity
infecting empaths
magic madness

I lie awake
my ideals walking in harmony
down a dendrite highway of fantasy...

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imagination
possibilities
idealism
investigation
evaluation

exploration
analysis
mindful madness
dendrite builder

predictions
assumptions
risk taking

probing
thinking

brain...

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Rumbling through my brain dendrite highway
Taking my imagination hostage 
Fiercely holding her ground
Optimism sprinkles my fields with hope

Faith creeps up and rolls in it
Love laughs 
The world
is good....

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clunky chunky unfamiliar words
not easily understood due to their tweets and pops
shoving themselves against my dendrite highway
hidden yet acutely felt
dancing the brain Watusi 
I wonder if I will ever write again...

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Mental prowess has zip to do with age or experience
Some people’s buckets are cups.
Their dendrite strains are much shorter than others.
I have met six-year-olds who are wizards.
Being raised by a teaspoon for brain....

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I have a precarious delusion
That there is underhanded collusion
Which causes a teensy bit of confusion
In the form of a dendrite transfusion,
Poetry, a magnificent conclusion
There is no imagination preclusion.
In my own self-fan-fusion....

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owl calls to her psyche
dreaming interferes
dendrite highways closed

breathing is a ruse
soul is in cosmos
hooting is unheard

astral travel
dusts away all semblance of
doom 

body on auto pilot
until soul returns 
to hostility of this world...

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She was walking through life feeling she had nothing to gain
Thriving on her boredom, thinking inspiration was insane.
With a gap and a slap, her muse decided to tighten her dendrite chain
Enticing her winter mind to recognize imagination can be insane....

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Ms. Shelly began to write.
Scratched it out.
Began again.
The lights are on, but no one is home.
Scribble Scribble

His dendrite field is nonexistent.
Scratch. Scratch.
She kept writing and scratching
What could she write on this child’s report card?...

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she took a child
who had been shut down by negativity
and reopened her dendrite highway
encouraging her to remember life
when she thought joy was a possibility
the child who had been afraid to tiptoe to the edge
was now able to kick off and fly into outer space...

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Jabbering in his mind
Unclear thoughts, non-cohesive, renegade,
Running wildly with a 1957 Chevy truck, 
Honking with a gaggle of winter geese.
Fuzzy dendrite connections, 
Brain overload, grabbing out-of-control ideas,
Hoisting them into cyberspace with his unicorn monkey pals....

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Angelic images
Briefly glazed
Carmen’s active
Dendrite field
Energizing 
Full-tilt
Glorious
Heavenly
Images 
Joyfully
Kindling
Lovely
Mindsets
Now
Opened
Per
Queen 
Renee’s
Spiritual
Testament
Under
Venus’s
Wisest
X’Tentions
Yielding
Zealousness alive in our kingdom....

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Star shaped, seriously sassy
Nodding needle-nosed, light chassis
Capped column, looking conniving
Irregular yet interesting without striving
Decidedly diabolically dendrite-dated
Practically perfect, placidly plated
Snowflakes have six points or six sides
Depending on moisture in clouds and temp outside...

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There is a distinct fuzziness in her mind
Her dendrite highway is drying up, cracked like broken concrete.
Cloudy thinking keeps her off the path of clarity.
She dares not let the others know.
Wait!
They are also using drugs; perhaps they already know?
She breathes easier.
Happily lapsing into her final coma....

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silence
fruitfully sought
never disappoints

silence
some cannot abide it
I deplore those people

silence disturbed
by music casually flipped on
by non-thinkers

silence 
never fully understood
by non dendrite-builders

silence
necessary for my health
my go-to place

silence
all I ask 
is more…....

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Whirling comprehensions
Swirled into dendrite paths
Confusing me greatly 

Shook my schemata
Woods and wind blowing through brain
Howling at me, challenging beliefs

Not ready 
Who would be?
No armour or sword to fight them

Caught in their frenzy I was entrapped
and engaged in spite of my soul's protest....

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A blossom’s beauty hangs in glory

Trampled by the souls of men

Truth be seen, yet for a moment 

This offering has come and past

Her velvet dress swayed motionless

To the dance that He began

Rhythm filled like dendrite drums

Chorus coupled; man and beast

In falling moments she lay in peace  

Forgotten from the one she loves?...

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It is seventy-five degrees today
I am shrieking with a hip-hip-hooray!
Funny that it seems extremely cool.
Welcome when our kids come back to school.

In March seventy-five would have seemed hot.
But it’s been a hundred, so it’s cooled a lot.
Wisely sage, these thoughts run through my dendrite sieve,
Comfort, temperature and weather are relative....

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Orange is more than a color or a scent
More than an up lifter
Charged and glitzy
Brings my happy self to full front
Prances her truth toward other colors
Not as vibrant, but ready at the helm
To twirl and whirl into orange’s dendrite stream.
Competitive yet knowing orange has captured the crown.
At least in my world of delight and whimsy which flows orange…....

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my dendrite highway glides into spiritual realms
unbidden, unhurried, unsanctified by conscious me
meditative unawareness solidifies into dreams of the dead
bioluminescent shapes and songs form enticing my psyche
I slumber blissfully unaware and yet here is piece of me
The piece I am not in touch with during the daylight hours,
constructing, creating, and misconstruing my next day...

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Dibble dwarf was not as bright as his clan
He lived by his wits, but they were not so grand
His dendrite highway was tiny and short at best
He sat on a steed that needed a lot of rest

Why is he riding a snail? Asked many of his kin.
Dibble dwarf was in a race, with no chance of a win
He was born with no gray matter, said his sister Kit
Dibble dwarf sat on the snail, not moving a bit....

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Mechanoreceptors
By David J Walker

I like to press mine 
against yours
the mechanoreceptors 
that seem to fit 
Awakening the knowing of the 
how’s and why’s 
We touch and kiss
Each other 
And long for
The pleasure of the pressures
We learn and miss 
And come back for more
Thank God for the gift of
primary sensory neurons
The dendrite made
To respond to
the welcomed touch 
we learn in 
loving each other...

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The essence of everything
parades in my mind’s heart
categorizing items into cages
in a variety of dwellings

Overwhelming my dendrite highway
actually putting her off her feed
to make sense of mysterious ideas
I fall into a deep sleep to escape

Upon awakening my idealism is unclear
My thoughts are foggy, but feel less daunting
I wander in my imagination for a bit
processing nothing, but beginning anew to create....

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Inside my dendrite pools of connections thoughts were whirling
Stirring up highways and freeways of unusual concern
Caught up by tornadoes of doubt and despair we were twirling
Since schools are closing doors rapidly how will children learn?
Idealism, pride and hope soon helped me rapidly discern 
Parents are their first teachers, and stand on the front line.
They want the best for their children; everything will be fine....

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