Trickling water in the brook,
Smiling faces take a look.
Little fish are everywhere,
Bare feet giving them a scare.
Splashing water on each other,
Standing near my smiling mother.
It’s such fun here in the stream,
Just like in my springtime dream.
Mother’s happy standing there,
Sunlight showing through her hair.
If she’d join us as we play,
It would be a perfect day.
A croaking echo, dark and deep,
A princess shivers in her sleep.
She lost her golden ball of light,
To a monstrous, endless night.
The moon hangs, a violet stain,
As the bog begins to rain.
A frog, with skin of slimy green,
Leaps from a shadow, rarely seen.
"I'll find your ball," it rasps and sighs,
with golden flecks within its eyes.
But as it speaks, the sound turns dread,
A monstrous voice, not what it said.
Its body swells, a horrid sight,
Engulfing all the fading light.
The frog is gone, the monster's here,
And the princess screams in primal fear.
The violet sky starts to decay,
As the monster grins and starts to play.
The golden ball, a final gleam,
Sinks with the girl into the stream.
flaming snakes
bite the Hanged Man
plodding sky swallows a squirrel
clinging to a gnarly tree
blemished pens bemoan
wily wordplay
out of nowhere
i am sadly too late
they have built the battlefield
in a collective coma
i build sorrow
my words disappear
one gloats madly
i go savagely into twilight
the Wheel of Fortune
spins into the Sun
A stream, searching its limits, laps the bank.
Water falls gently over a small dam.
Fish nip at flotsam in usual prank,
And find protein at weight less than a gram.
All's well and calm in this country setting
A whiff of wind shuffles a nearby tree,
Yet the shallow banks soon will be letting
Gallons of overflow to be set free.
Soft water's whispers now shriek in a scream.
A precipice grips the liquid off-guard.
It spills its mass in a powerful stream
Down to twirling whirlpool's cold disregard.
i t r d; mallard ducks g--l--i--d--i--n--g ~
~moments ago, still...nature's mirror d s o e
Minor signs of anxiety
Sunk in the glass of lemon water
In the panic of the present time
Life flows in a calm stream
Along the damp walls of low storey buildings
My boat floats to nowhere
Under the arches of old bridges
Voices distorted by echoes ring out
What they say, what they are silent about
Is unimportant for I can't hear
I float along the quiet current
Through the cloudy waters.
long tree limbs stretching
over gurgling brook flowing
minnows are dashing
I sit on the bank
observing nature’s beauty
a calming moment
Another morning,
Stormy gray lies,
Verification code 062480,
Method of payment,
Onerous office,
Forgotten,
Depressed/suppressed,
Collision warning!
Erring & errands,
Shopping for sanity,
Trembling triad,
Solo sunset,
Revised & deleted,
140,000+ miles,
275 poems,
Life, films, anti-humans,
Usually hard,
Orange King,
If Jefferson became Burr,
2mm, DVR the clubhouse,
Geeks inherit the earth,
Sales + senior,
Emailing Miock,
Texting mockery,
Dust, dirt, remote work,
Deported to Mars,
Arriving dead,
Appointment, agencies, locations,
Unremarkably dressed,
Will do,
Barely alive @ 5:15 AM,
Squealing grocery cart,
Monday miasma,
Pausing, freezing, crashing,
Bureaucratic blasphemy,
Problem: garbage,
The End begins,
A lurid mini-series,
Super-8, hooray!
Sunday—updated,
Made sadder,
Check Engine Light (aarrggghhh),
No refills,
Pitted windshield,
Obsessive recycled cyclones,
MacBook weeps,
Fiasco at night,
Discharged,
Digital snake oil,
Smitten spreadsheet,
Ignoble typos,
Nightmares in Midtown,
Select 0,
Chapter/s paused,
Deaden this promptly,
Lying biopics,
Naughty neologisms,
Flying, falling, exploding,
Cancelled lives,
Unresolved.
When angels took my love in dawn's white light,
I wallowed in the wake of fate gone wrong;
too weak to fight my demons in the night,
too numb to know the gift that was her song.
Like brittle leaves left dying in a field
I longed to rise on autumn's gusty breeze.
Without the gift of wisdom's words to wield
I searched for hope beneath unbending trees.
But soon I heard the rippling of a stream;
along its banks, I shed my deep dismay.
Enchanting verses smoothed the cracks and seams
and soothed my soul with sounds of words at play.
I never thought the gift of poetry
would bring the joy and peace that lives in me.
I stand alone in natures beauty,
in the woods by a trickling stream.
I feel the presence of my destiny,
as a repetitive eternal dream.
I hear the gurgling of water,
as it follows its chosen way,
No worries of tomorrow,
as it just flows towards the bay.
My mind says, relax you’re never alone,
the beauty of nature is all around.
A fallen oak tree seems to beckon me,
I acknowledge it and gently sit down.
I close my eyes and calm my thoughts,
a calming quietness welcomes me.
I slow my breath, open my heart,
and let myself to just be.
I feel the oneness of all creation,
and the presence of love that oneness brings.
Then my thoughts wondered why it took so long,
to sincerely seek deep spiritual things.
.
The message I received, without a word,
from a presence calming and maternal.
When you acknowledge your spiritual self,
you’ll be aware that life is eternal.
I woke up this morning from a dream.
On the coffee table, I saw a magazine -
my father's Field and Stream,
and I remembered how he wanted to take me to a place
he went with his own father
in an earlier time and space,
to nature's rugged, wild Elysian fields,
where boys and men could bond,
like a page and knight with sword and shield.
So, he took me to the mountains, beautiful and free,
and I wanted to go there with him,
but my imprisoned eyes couldn't see.
My father's field and stream, you see,
was not a place, but a state of mind,
and I could not go there by decree.
I was not the kind of boy or man
my dad wanted me to be.
He didn't know what was obvious to me.
Between my mom, my brothers and I,
the verdict was decided,
"Entirely unfit", they would all decry.
I was unworthy, and I was weak,
I wasn't one of the Hardy boys,
and felt much more like a freak.
I wish that I could have joined you, Dad,
in those fields and streams,
to share together the experience you had,
and I am ready to join you in nature's high,
but it's too late for us.
You're in the Field and Streams of the sky.
"Fantasy ~ Imagination Are Twins. Having a fun time playing together in our dreams." By Poet
As I look into last night's "Dream,"
I see a "Visualization" downstream.
I see a huge bear and cubs dressed in lace of red and cream,
that is a crazy color scheme.
Is my "Imagination" going up in steam?
The bears looked very "Whimsy" like out of a daydream,
has this "Hullucination" gone to the extreme?
"Reverie" by this cold water stream.
In this wild dream I found no self-esteem,
just a large bright overhead laser beam.
No more eating ice cream with triple whipping cream.
Gust
Slow wind
Tortoise walks
Never reaching
Owls howl, night falls
Shells protect but kill too
Roots deep, not brittle
Wildfire burns within me
River flows without future
Yet it keeps on moving, flowing
Yet it keeps on moving, flowing
Raindrops fall knowing fate
Still they come, soft and fierce
Foxes mark the night’s edge
Silent, cold and waiting
Life and death entwined
Hope flickers on
Wind and fire
Fight on
Alive
on the surface, the waters are like glass, reflecting the rhythms of a promise, a prayer, a praise felt by the heart who breathes in her peace ~ by poet
gently flowing across polished stones
waters reflecting the silence of June
her rolling sprays stir me in my bones
as she sways beneath a blue moon
on the surface, she seems to be drifting
singing of a graceful dawn who hears
realizing that the times are shifting
and soon, she will silence all of my fears
breaking through the hush of the night
with her light laughter, her joyful surge
rising on the brink of a moment so right
when joy and hope, peace and love merge
creating in me a soundless beauty, a stream
of careless notions who form a quiet dream
~
~ stream r
o o
~ l
~ l
~ o i
o n
~ g on rocks
o ~ whispers beats from leaf to leaf~
~ o birch trees hum along
~ ~
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