Short Tributary Poems

Ice coated mountain trees camouflage
Its' tributary melt waters flow into lake
Natures'  eye in winter beauty....

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surviving on one
of the islands
in the river
or tributary
of her love
line in between
her hand

am i the one
she was told
to be the most
aware of her
if so
please
rescue

me...

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love trickled
streams of newness
over unchartered
regions of my body
revitalizing
all senses deep with in 
percolating
rivers of love
flow from hidden
tributary...

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Licking River, a tributary of the Muskingum in Ohio
It's a Shawnee word for “swampy ground” it ain't no typo
Bet you're glad you tuned in
Hope it made you grin
I'm always here to spread cheer on this sideshow...

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Licking River, a tributary of the Muskingum in Ohio
It's a Shawnee word for “swampy ground” it ain't a typo
Bet you're glad you tuned in
Hope it made you grin
It's why I'm here, to spread good cheer on this sideshow...

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Still looking
As long as there are rhymes, 
Will I live if I keep time?
And these concerns of lost romance;
Why am I looking back to glance
And beside a rivers tributary, 
If I pray my last Hail Mary;
Will it ever come to me?
Why I swim this empty sea....

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Pink cherry blossoms
line the banks of the Schuylkill.
The Art Museum
is dressed in pink satin lace.
This is a sure sign of spring.


The Schuylkill River is a tributary of the Delaware River that flows through most of Philadelphia, PA
written 3-18-12
...

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Time-honored
in the mountain stream
a jagged one 
once sat,
crafted by policies
of weather
and movement.

I
(standing by),
seasoned 
by policies of conscience 
and question,
reason
this stone 
is analogue
to your tributary,

and to your tribute, Terry....

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I watch the jealous sky
open it's eyes,
drag shrouds of grey
to leech colours from the day.
Yet even raindrops feel pity
as they feed the tributary
of pain upon my cheek,
diluting my skin, stained in you.
I could smell hopes freshness
in mornings birth,
and the sky was contented....

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the river
in which I learned to swim
along which I practiced my driving

frozen mass where my dad dared to walk in his youth
waterway where my grand paw taught me about boats

daily crossing this tributary
I live on and love the
Ohio


an unrhymed trois par huit...

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Muse has neither gone limp
In me like a manhood 
At the peak of its use
Nor did my pen run dry
Like Esisi tributary in dry season.
It was only a period of hibernation
To prepares my wits
For the coming season.

Now my pen is erect
As if you were a naked maiden
Ready to ejaculate seeds of fire
Inside every open heart
Just the way Muse 
Have been doing in me....

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The glide of the plane almost in step with my rooftop.
Visibility of blue heaven low; lookout for earthwalkers.
My bland Toyota euphoric and banded by tight forest.
The span of an angelic chorus, a serendipitous psalm.
The predilection of dawn, a tributary hawk sails on.
The silver cross shimmies and shakes reflected in mirror.
I steady it with my heartbeat, my smile, my faith.

9/25/2020...

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Imperative of a fallen star.
Discouraged from afar.
A shot goes out from a horizontal space.
One more bullet in the human race.
Cascade of resonance.
Death death dance dance.
As a tributary of a river swells.
From the omega to the frozen fells.
Pedantry to a broken rule.
A selfish way to act the fool.
Randomness is a means to a start.
An earthquake beats unto my heart.
Finally I see the end.
Error repeat delete and send....

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LET’S GO FISHING

We set out early when the air was cool to go fishing.

Deep within the forest at a river tributary lies

a remote stretch of water. A few hours later

our catch is impressive. I turn my back to eat my lunch

and I hear a scream. An alligator has snatched

my friend with its terrible death grip—

there’s nothing I can do but stare in horror

at the scene before me. Will I be next?

I wish I had my hunting rifle…...

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