I wait ‘til the end of the day
when I may have more to say
At times the words come tumbling out
Poetry, a teapot… my pen, a spout
Then there are nights I stare at the screen
Handcuffs on my heart, sight unseen
In the morn I once tried my hand ~
Muse yet ‘neath the spell of the sandman
the maple
l o o s e n s its amber hush,
leaves drifting
in slow, deliberate strokes
around the bench
she sits
in her denim skirt
and beige sweater,
mittens cupping
the briskness
of the watercolor air
a small stack
of pale pumpkins
rests beside her~
soft autumn accents
in the muted scene
before her,
a watering can waits,
and from its spout
a rabble of butterflies
rises,
tiny brush marks
of wandering color
she gazes
to her left,
comfortable
in the silent drift
of leaves and wings~
perhaps letting her thoughts
l o o s e n
the way the season
does
Possibilities
Feed not your ego with self-encouragement
In an artificial world, if given the chance
To ineptly spout, however impotently,
And cull not vanity, but bide your ignorance.
Imagine not a yarn where perched on a throne,
Stomping your foot signifying authority,
Salivating on things you could change but won’t,
Is seedy attention-getting and foolhardy.
Clothe not in disguise your greedy ambitions,
Justified by half-wit pride and intelligence;
Ashamed, you’re not a beauty of consequence;
Shun the crowd in persecution of innocence.
Dream of possibilities placed before you,
Exploring adventurously and witnessing truth.
Choose friends keenly, filtering out cynicism;
Be yourself, reaching for the stars and succeeding.
The blur was green or maybe grey
That past his turgid senses flashed.
The skin would burst soon anyway,
All his tastes and visions smashed.
Grey or green, most perplexing, yes.
The membrane full, his senses stretched.
To smash the wall would cause a mess,
He'll look and search, with nothing fetched.
Green or grey, but could be blue,
Now the cover will surely burst.
An idea, but what to argue?
Must determine the colour first.
Grey or green, did he see a pink?
There's something missed or maybe hopped.
It's now he teeters on the brink.
Be careful now, it could have popped.
"O, joy", he cries, he's found it out,
Not pure and single colours seen.
The pressure's gone, a welcome spout,
He's stemmed again what should've been.
Shouting without reason
Burning voices that crackles
With horse wisp of a growl
In pain without dsicription
Hollow feeling of regret
Short spout of unreasoning
Stop without going
Shattering sentence
No words that describes
The pouting with snarling
Couping without balance
Grip with a fist with fury
A smile looks of a cringe
Speaking with loudness
Expression looks unsure
This anger has voice
The pool unfolds like a satin strip,
a tapestry of turquoise stillness.
Sunlight stuck on its facade,
a glass sheet spread to shatter.
A maroon reflective house
shadowed by two leaning palms,
their hushed fronds, the indolent onlookers,
impersonate the silent sky.
A violent bloom of serrated purity
in the stretch of sapphire serenity,
stillness splintered by the frenetic spout.
The splash, the chaotic vista,
a coronet of fluid wonder,
epitomizes the geometry of fading disarray,
interlacing the memories of elation,
rolling over the painted silence.
Inspired by A Bigger Splash by David Hockney (1967)
Written as a tribute to the departed painter.
.They think they've got us neatly fooled,By global maps and globes in school.But look outside, it's plain to see,The ground is flat as it can be.If we were spinning out in space,We’d all be flying off the place.The water would just spill right out,Of every lake and water spout.And don't get started on the moon,Or NASA’s giant space balloon.They hide the ice wall at the edge,With penguins guarding on the ledge.It’s just a giant dinner plate,No spinning core or heavy weight.So drop the math and look outside,There is no curve for them to hide.
My i say they were.' (My mistakes)Yet thats easy enough to spout.' Out, As a geyser is there not doubt,l.? forms in the shadow world demon
Spawn.' Manipulating the ' latest thing or
Media storms' who counts the tears.? But
God alone.' He keeps no score..
And we.?hope? to atone? Jesus sacrificed tried by night.' Oh breakers of trust' of pharonic blights
Blind and willful pharasiees,acts and signs of falsehood, you will bend the knee.' Or be
Thrown whole into hells fires.' Where even ashes
Carry the flames ever higher.' You love to
Divide, to wreck, to tear.. A dead law won't
Save you, its only mercy so rare.' Look around see the signs, better to fall at Chtists feet, who vanquished oblitterated
That many can eat; of life.. Repent turn back..Accept true life. Turn from hell and
Endless night.'
bumble bee flirts with
new gutter, drain spout resounds....
clematis blossoms
"At the beach - time you enjoyed wasting, is not wasted." -T. S. Eliot
It's a beautiful day at the seashore
To explore the beach on this warm day
As I walk along, hearing the ocean roar
Children are out and about at the beach to play
Seagulls are flying nearby and squawking about
Parents are out guarding, keeping them away
A whale is spotted spraying from his spout
A site seeing cruise ship stops to watch the show
While some children excitedly scream and shout
I walk along the path, where the sweet roses grow
Until I reach the hidden ocean cave
With tide pools of crabs and shells to bestow
A Seal is beached while wetted from a wave
This relaxing beach adventure is what I crave
Between the negativity
And the insensitivity
There’s evil in your eyes
Kiss the jealousy goodbye
Don’t speak on my behalf
I don’t want your witchcraft
You spout nothing but hate
Spitting venom on your plate
Keep your poison, keep your lies
Your fake persona, a weak disguise
Take your grudge and take your gloom
There’s no space for it in my room
I’ll stay blessed while you stay green
Play in your mess, it’s quite the scene
Your words are dust, no fire, just old
The same old story, so tired and told
I’m locking my doors, don’t try to knock
Try and push me but I’ll sit like a rock
I’m protected by Spirit, I own my light
I glow in the dark, I thrive in the night
So sink beneath your own deceit
Your malicious intentions won’t compete
Stay mad, our worlds will never collide
I’m done with you — now step aside.
"Is it better to speak or to die?!"
You speak of my future,
Dismissing my nature.
Yet, just for your suture
But what of the life I capture?
I continue to elaborate,
Still, you dominate.
The emotions I demonstrate,
You find ways to understate.
Can you hear my breakout,
Or do I have to shout?!
Right — to you I merely spout.
Will you listen when I’m snuffed out?
Officially, I can’t hear nature,
Not when you're an oppressive creature.
Will you ever nurture,
Before I make my departure?
Scented water lilies on the water sitting peaceful, kind
Fresh water pouring out of a copper spout
Amber candles burning to soothe your worried mind
Little beads of dew on cedar, roll them in and out
Green leaf moments on a lovely summer day, hurray
Classical music playing in the background Debussy
Sunlight in your hair, lost in yesterday's train ride
In this little fantasy of mine nothing here can hide
Golden moments uncensored unbiased Buddhist views
Recited mantras on the tongue climbing every rung
Orbs dancing all around you better hold a few
In a wonderful world of anything, let's be something.
Who would’ve thought that
the rain tapping the window
would harmonize so well
with the rude honesty of my morning alarm
.
My brain negotiates with the day
and I stagger forward,
faithless and naked,
toward the coffee maker,
sliding my small ceramic cup
beneath the steaming spout of joy,
waiting for something warm to arrive.
The grinder growls through its duty,
as the scent of a French roast
slowly threads its way
into my fogged-up thoughts,
I sit and I sip and i smile
until the day, slowly and unbothered,
finally comes into focus.
There is nothing in life
so plain, so unassuming,
that inspires my senses quite like
a morning cup of coffee.
My favorite body part is my brain
Without that part I'd go insane
It gives me thought and lets me think
And sends me vibes to make me wink
Winkey dee and Winkey do
It can also tell me to wink at you
My butt is my second favorite part
I know it stinks and it makes me fart
But from all of the toots I've ever spout
It was my brains idea to let them out
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