Life is a blackbird's bony beak
Living is a pumping, juicy red berry
Tranquility is a royal flushed heart
meandering down a silver stream.
Bottom of the hill is a fast stream,
shallow current through rock careens,
never once gets past your knees,
under a bridge in a sylvan scene.
Most ignore it as they’re driving by,
young boys see it with prying eyes,
four down there, not even five,
building a dam, rocks piled up high.
Get a huge thrill when the waters rise,
packing mud in the gaps in the side,
to their minds a big flood tide,
their hands are small but their dreams wide.
A few feet away, one panning gold,
there’s a rich vein here, he’s told,
swirls like prospectors of old,
no luck yet, but he ain’t gonna fold.
Littlest one chases minnows fast,
tiny feet do nothing but splash,
runs a race, his mother laughs,
he ain’t gonna catch no dinner like that!
Sun’s coming down and it’s half past four,
they hate to leave, always want more,
have to hit the grocery store,
a tragedy when you’re only four.
Sun now dips down low
Twilight starts to glow
Tangerine skyline
At distance align
Like a honeyed dream
Beside a soft stream.
SHES A RIVER
Her life is like that of a river,
persistent and unpredictable.
She carved her life in the California mountain peeks
following the creeks,
creating her own current at just fifteen—
forge on
she dammed fears and tears that tore at her spirit
childish emotions raged inside
Forge on
once she would fall
many came to see the wonder of it all
but eventually a comfortable place called home.
was the place she felt most alone
forge on
All that trapped her today would eventually be torn away
resurfacing through the cracks of where she had been,
forge on
She smiled glistening to see the sun, her old friend
to be united with something so bright and warm again
then fog crept in to elude her
and the sun crept out to remind her
Forge on
And at the fork of her life’s journey,
a paradise awaits—
one worthy of envy.
Forge on
I float along the peaceful stream.
Will I stay put? I cannot scream; I’m only a petal, a petal can dream.
It’s bliss like the rays,
From the river to the bays,
Why am I so afraid?
For I glide and paddle my way to my feet; every raindrop sounds what I cannot keep.
When darkness looms,
My nothingness blooms.
Shadows create devils, hell’s gate.
I float along a peaceful stream, a petal can dream, but this petal screams.
The experience came fast
As streams flooded my soul
I had thought of an encounter coming
But slowly slowly it walked away from my worldview
Time is such a tiny vehicle
Driving life away from plan
I least expected streams to vomit water like a sinking body
The experience came prepared
Forming river links in my soul
Even in my dream
Rivers keep running after me
I could see ornaments coming along too
I lost fishes to the running splash
Fishes i had feed with the sand of life
Life is so vegetative in the pond
And fishes are interspersed among grasses
The experience came wild
Along with rain to share a particular relationship with time
Today
A beautiful sun is set above us
Giving us a flourishing light
As cassava stems
Stand looking gracious
I believe the last face of the sky
Gives hope in abundance
Today is faithful with us
And it's close to the end of everything
I took a walk
along the bank,
a gentle, trickle flow --
(a soothing chatter)
We spoke of
gurgles and fizzy
bubbles; of slick
stones~ the glitter of
setters’ jewels, rubbed
to treasured perfection --
taking larger pours and
deeper swallows -- like mates
on a shore-leave binge -- in that moment,
stride increasing,
the stream now a jogger’s panting run --
we jointly realized
just how great our shared dislike
for industry and beavers….
The Forgotten Leaf
From autumn's aged bough I took my flight,
Through woodland streams where whispered waters gleam;
I sought fair spring beyond the grasp of night,
Yet none would pause to share my silent dream.
The birds and winds became my faithful guide,
Through frost and bloom, through summer's golden fire;
Still every passing soul unseen would glide,
Nor lift my name from sorrow's darkened mire.
A lily asked, "Why grievest thou alone?"
I sighed, "My heart's a haunted palace still;
Where joy once reigned, cold silence claims the throne,
And empty halls obey forgotten will."
The world saw waste where one young child found art;
Thus lost leaves live forever in one heart.
The Stream Of Greedy Dreams.
From the crown falls the stream,
the stream of greedy dreams,
which making its own way
flows all night and day.
It washes away the meek sand
and overflows the small pebbles,
but narrows itself amid
huge rocks and mighty hills.
It flows among crops and trees
and also among no use weeds.
It grows by length and breadth
and tries to drown the whole earth.
Alas! The end comes its way
as it mingles with the bay.
The dreams get lost in the sea so vast
Made of many dreams so lost.
sunlit hues are kaleidoscopic kisses
terrestrial impressions
testing the waterfall’s eminence,
of impetus, of its continuous flow
unbroken by striving survival,
unfiltered obstruction
flowing along its perilous path
thoughts, feelings, & reactions
meandering, sipping Adam’s ale
moods unbridle as they manifest,
ellipses elapse, evaporate
lapping reckoning runestones,
monuments reciting otherworldly
phonetic pebbles babble
of antediluvian intuition
these stones summer bleached
warn satin smooth
at half-light, titanium white glows,
there, as dusky jewels
natural caressed water wooshes
v e
r i
s i
m i
l a r
rustling the leaves—insomniacs,
lift the cyclical immersive mind
rushing, whittling a way
recanting,
chanting murmurs that calm my soul
it's a cool as I meander
the forest near my home
and come to the rippling stream ~
the blue water looks so cold
crystal clear and flowing fast
over mossy rocks-
beyond and around
trees are changing
letting go ~
the burnt orange leaves lay scattered
D E C A Y I N G
I feel secluded . . . alone_
a brisk wind pushes me home
I stand by the stream
listening to the sound of flowing water.
the gentle invitation it offers
is a soft unraveling
of everything the day held too tightly.
it murmurs over stones
in a language older than sorrow,
each syllable a cool blue note
slipping into the air.
there is a tenderness in it,
a steadiness
that smooths the edges of thought
and loosens the knots beneath my ribs.
the stream keeps moving,
silver-bright, unhurried,
teaching the me
how to breathe again.
and as it trickles and flows,
its gathers calm around me~
a quiet presence
that feels like being held
by something patient
and endlessly kind.
soft dawn awakens forest air
the hush of morning everywhere
old pines remember what we’ve lost
roots hold truths untouched by the frost
above them, plants grow in splendor
what we’ve lost old pines remember
the river hums its ancient tune
a silver thread beneath the moon
silent songs come from silver tongues
its ancient tune the river hums
beneath, the melody prolongs
from silver tongues come silent songs
bush and heath, give a cooling sheath
the melody prolongs, beneath
through shifting light on leaf and bough
the earth still keeps its patient vow
__________________________
Concourse of water of a stream flows down from its peak on a mountain top, down through a thicket of greenery in a gradual fall to planes and ultimately to its destiny of ocean whence the journey first began.
Eternal silence of Nature here tells the string to calm down, wear not a self-bestowed crown feeling so proud.
___________________
O stream from tall peak,
What use feeling puffed up proud?
It all ends in bleak
One day, wrapped in Time’s dark shroud,
Cool down, why this din so loud?
___________________________
Musings | 22.05.2026 | Nature, ocean, silence, string, time, Tanka
The strong current twisted and turned,
So much so surely no man dare enter.
However newly inhabited in this devilish stream:
A school of ridged rocks tumbled by.
Among this school, rolled the most honed of them all.
As he rolled he noticed the dulling of his fellow rocks.
they tossed and turned as the river quickened their erosion,
However,
Different from the rest.
This rock was adamant on maintaining his unique edges.
Finally,
After seasons of resistance,
The school graduated to the shore.
Upon arrival the young rock looked to his mates,
To find that they had smoothed their irregularities,
And he was secluded from their congruence.
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