Short Wizen Poems

Wizen flowers lost
it's not the waltz of  flowers
sounds the farewell waltz...

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she comes in with an attitude
probably from the Orient
left over from the Crusades
she is wise, wizen, old.
she flicks ocean onto my cheeks
I taste salt
ocean breeze is the boss....

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An old wizen monk 
Lived high in the mountains
Miles from the nearest settlement
He spent his days 
Deep in mediation 
On the bubble of illusion
One day drinking tea 
He reached nirvana,...

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immodest face woman
she lives her natural true self
keeping vast secrets
back on her what-knot shelf

we can tell by her face
she has wizen wise ways
immodest face woman
lives many glorious days...

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AFRICAN SUNSET

Watching the sun sinking into a golden horizon,
My heart’s glad as I watch the evening sky siphon,
The scorching heat from an African day,
Giving reprieve to all life that may,
Rest until the morrow, now a day older and wizen!...

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How I'd like to make it last
Instead of a memory of the past
I cannot disavow
That im happy in the now
The flesh begins to manipulate 
Sadly knowing of an expiration date
The more I'm here the more I wizen
With you heartbreak is on the horizon...

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Listen to poem:

Fish dewatered delicious
is sucked dry with salt 
its flesh assaulted
rung out, and dried stark stiff.

Wishes like fishes rise in expectation
that hopes and dreams will flourish
but knock-backs, rebuffs and rejections
desiccate dreams with onslaught of salt,
shrivelling wishes, wizen to salt wish....

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How would I find the Wizen Goo?
Follow the colorful mushroom trail said Boo.
But I have never seen it! She said, feeling blue.
Some cannot, he admitted, I cannot help you.

The mushroom trail was put in by the fey.
In the middle of the forbidden forest so gray.
Some cannot see it, they cannot find the way.
The ones who do are merry and gay....

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How would I find the Wizen Goo?
Follow the colorful mushroom trail said Boo.
But I have never seen it! She said, feeling blue.
Some cannot, he admitted, I cannot help you.

The mushroom trail was put in by the fey.
In the middle of the forbidden forest so gray.
Some cannot see it, they cannot find the way.
The ones who do are merry and gay....

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Delightfully dancing delicate doppio,
twirling the twisted turns.
Staccato steps, softly sublime
Reaching rich rapture.

Pausing, pondering performance parameters
Considering critical, controversial clash
Taking time to tackle the tearful troupe
Before breaking buoyant babble

Wizen words, woefully wrapped,
delivered. Deadening delirious delight.
Seeking solace; silent sobs slip softly....

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Lay in me the foundations of your peace
Let me share sabbath, silent as the deep
Oh lift me to taste the fruits I can't reach

Still in me the ceaseless prides when they speak
Grant me timeless time with your heart to seek;
In your arms, my Lord, my heart's truth to keep

Oh grow in me; the same scarred love you are
Wizen wearied eyes to your morning star,
Love, that I might love, and keep not your kingdom far...

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I see trouble on the near horizon--
A nation divided just is not couth,
Unfortunately, reason is wizen
Frivolous theories accepted as truth,
Intentionally misguiding our youth
Disgraceful political grandstanding,
Foundation institutions crash-landing
News media is shaping opinions,
Honestly, journalism notwithstanding
Common folks now political minions.


written August 13, 2021...

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Standing outside the dingy building
peering through the dusty glass
I see something that is glittering
looking closely a lamp of brass

I enter into the pawn shop
It is a lovely snowdrop lamp
made of brass a fancy  prop
it even has a maker's stamp

How much I ask the wizen man
we haggle and barter over the price
he tells me its come from Japan
when I pay him he thanks me twice

contest: At The Pawn Shop  written 06/13/2013...

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Great grandfather tree was wizen and wise.
He kept to himself, southeast of where the crow flies.
We ventured toward him whenever we needed advice.
He was usually entertaining the ducks, locust and mice.

Everyone in the woods gravitated to Great grandfather tree.
His advice was sage, succinct, and as easy to follow as could be.
You almost never got to speak to him alone, he was surrounded by kin.
Sometimes they had to part to let you wander on in....

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Everybody got a Sophia in his life,
I just don't want loose strings,
Several forces gather and collides,
I must step back from these rings.

The story doesn't stop when it ends,
the contemplation will always be free,
in the rough land or thoughtful sky, [as a wayfaring stranger, ]
I'm going where it's going to be.

The cricket as the same size as infinity,
the plenitude towards the horizon,
whistling and fizzing coming from the sky,
It suddenly turns my skin wizen....

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Who is that old woman,
The one who's sitting on that bench?
She looks at everyone who passes
As if her heart would wrench.

Tell me why she looks so sad,
Is she a friend of yours?
She leans upon her ancient cane
As if to hide her many years.

Who is that little woman?
Whose wizen eyes turn to the skies.
She somehow looks familiar,
Sitting there repressing cries.

The little woman rises and 
Turns to look at me.
"Its time," she says,
"I’ve come to set you free.”...

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who wears short shorts?
she wears short shorts.
a cute song from the seventies.
with preteens bopping around showing their cute fannies.

who wears short shorts today?
In this restaurant a pair of them just went shuffling by.
beneath them there were wobbly, jiggly, wiggly white legs.
the wizen crone is at least eighty.

does she have a mirror?
can she see?
she follows an old guy out.
I nearly fall out of my chair when she calls him “Daddy”.
surely he could tell her....

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