the unenacted mental dialogue
of just surveying the scene
we can
trace
the
lines
of where nowhere goes
uninterrupted
but for the private tangents
in my head -
I may share the cheap wine
ask to be guided
in how to use the tools
or just inhale what I see
taking the raised temperature of the room
away with me to ponder
I'm so glad I paid you for your time
as I didn't want to get my hands dirty
but I do like witnessing
the tricks of the trade.
Inspired by The Floor Planers painted by Gustave Caillebotte
Let me tell you a story
of a little-known battle—
the Battle of Harvard College.
It started one day
on a snow-covered campus
with one simple snowball.
The first soldier
launched his attack
on his unsuspecting brother.
It wasn’t long
shots were volleyed back.
Up in the window,
the general stood,
surveying the chaos
below him.
Grabbing his tricorn,
Washington charged.
De-escalation
was his only mission.
In a voice that commanded,
he ordered his men,
“Stop all this nonsense
at once!
How can you become
a unified army
when you bicker
amongst yourselves?”
The men now knew what they had to do,
for this general,
it was not smart to cross.
Without one single grumble,
they returned to their duties,
becoming a unified army.
WISE AVIAN
Nested in wisdom,
She contemplates her guidance:
Waiting to navigate.
Her large eyes, surveying life,
Visioning the divine course.
THE EXPECTED ONE -1860
{painting by Ferdinand Georg Waldmüller}
Walking down the country road
with her scarved head bowed
Clinging to her prayer book
She dare not look
Rosary hanging from her hand
Is this stroll planned?
Is she unaware
of the gentleman hiding there?
holding a large pink rose
waiting to propose?
Eyes closed, she's walking
Is she balking?
Does she know him?
Why is she so grim?
This path of stone
with trees overgrown
holds a surprise
Does she realise?
Is she "the expected one"?
Will her hand be won?
Her dress billowing
in the wind blowing
Her cheeks are glowing
My thoughts are flowing
Maybe she knows
Maybe she will accept the rose
Maybe, that's why she's praying
While he's surveying
Art thought-provoking
With beautiful stroking
Turns my mind
Leaving me in a bind.
A man drove his car through the mountains,
Past trees, rocks and natural fountains,
When to his dismay,
Saw a man in a fray,
With a bear and was getting a poundin'.
A woman stood high on a rock,
Surveying below her the tussle.
He cried, 'Shoot the beast!'
She said, 'Hold your peace,
The bear may save me the trouble.'
She’s up at dawn binoculars raised
Surveying lawns like crimes unfazed
A rogue petunia out of line
She files a claim by 8:09
A car she doesn’t recognize
Becomes a case she must analyze
Stolen she mutters pacing slow
She’s texting the board before they know
If someone grills past quiet time
She drafts a message crisp and primed
Attachments timestamps photos too
Her self-proclaimed duty through and through
She’s judge and jury of the street
A self-appointed rules elite
No porch too cluttered hedge too tall
No harmless fun too small to stall
The neighbors begrudgingly grit their teeth
When she reports a wreath beneath
The approved specs for seasonal décor
They’ve learned to keep an eye on their door
Not a board member but eager to enforce
She guards the HOA’s covenant with a nosy force
A watchdog? Maybe A pest? Perhaps
Forever wasting her days setting petty traps
In an instant
I burst forth again
Like some sort of exotic flower that only blooms once every 5 or 10 years
Born of volcanic balsalt
Bursting upward in a splash of ash
that rains down
Can you hear the tiny bits hitting the rock around me
It's a swoosh sound and then tiny rain
And suddenly here I am again
My stalk is stronger than in the past
My hues are no longer blues
There is light slipping between the veins of me
This is a cosmic born again
Little remains of the girl that I once was
She was so small where I now feel tall
She was so insecure. We're now a mountain stands
Her steps were never sure. Now I stride
I stand upon the peak of that black black mountain that I had to climb
Surveying the valley of glorious color and light below
The battles have made a Titan of me
And a Titan. I'm damn well glad to be
COMPLEXITY OF EXPRESSION-:-
familiar
pleasure
surprised
pulsating
prose
of OPAQUE REMAINS
gorgeously
triumphant
idiosyncratic
tangled
tones
in PECULIAR POISE
surveying
remaindered
glimpsed
random
chance
Cat in the window
Surveying the world
Cosy and warm
Tail all curled
Soaking up sunshine
Or watching the rain
It looks out on the street
With arrogant disdain
If I was a jaguar looking for a home
weary from my long trek, and a steady roam
I would scramble up my enormous oak tree
surveying miles of prey that he could easily see
Castle walls to protect
Castle walls to hide
Castle walls to sleep peacefully through the night.
Safe haven strong as steel after years of resilience
Always on guard, waiting for it all to fall to pieces.
Surveying from the fort to keep myself safe from the recurring pain from the past.
Pain as sharp as an arrow flying with force that knocks you back to the ground.
Waiting to see if you still bleed from such an old wound.
Waiting to see if you rise from the pain.
Just as a phoenix rises from its own ashes, so do you.
Its been a long time since I’ve felt blissful,
I know I’m the one to shoulder any blame.
Bliss ended long before years turned golden,
too many matters I’ve allowed to inflame.
I’ve always been, for the most part, a loner,
crowds and idle chit chat I’ve tried to avoid.
Married sixty years to the same woman,
Just two D.I.N.K.S. one in need of Freud.
But surveying the past changes nothing,
so musings should focus on time unspent.
But the future holds no aspirations for me,
it’s just about time to take down the tent.
But throughout my life I have been blessed,
faith in God has seen me through each test.
Up above a lone bird soars high,
a speck of movement in an azure sky
tainted, with the faintest streaks of white.
It spreads its wing majestically,
sunlight reflecting off its feathers,
glancing off its back.
The wind is its sole friend
as it glides over land and sea,
mountains and trenches,
cities and forests.
It goes wherever it wishes,
surveying its dominion below.
The scenes it will see, only it will know.
It flies far beyond the horizon,
pivoting and diving like an arrow
enjoying the cool air rush past its body.
Effortlessly, it glides
through sun, rain and snow,
nonchalant about what follows.
As it journeys without end across the plains,
it knows it is minute in comparison
and that its journey has just begun.
And so as we leave it to disappear from view
on its endless adventure,
we are reminded that we are not so different from it,
and it's about time we spread our wings.
On a warm summer evening
we are pinned together on the octopus ride,
twirling with excited pleasure.
Even the breeze we swirl through
cannot cool us down,
for the passion of new love
consumes us.
We browse along the Midway,
and he buys for me spun sugar on a stick.
Later we sit buckled in on the seat
of a huge lit-up ferris wheel.
It circles round and round as we swing our legs
while surveying the bustling gleeful folk below.
I shiver with a fever
of anticipation.
At the pinnacle of our last go-around
on this gigantic wheel,
the ride hovers there in the cooling night air.
The stars above us seem to be dancing with delight.
He leans over and his lips meet mine.
I taste the sweetness of cotton candy
and melt into our first kiss,
never wanting again to come back down
to earth.
It was a perfect day, a sunny golden day.
I felt the gentle sweep of easy breezes,
the music of the wind.
It was my daily stroll around the neighborhood,
my daily clarity.
It was there, and then I beheld the cat,
the leashed Siamese cat, prowling and smelling.
A man clutched this leash, seeming absorbed,
seeming preoccupied by cat rubbing and sniffing,
cat prowling and surveying land and sky.
Never had I witnessed a leashed cat.
This was a way we controlled and humanized dogs.
Cats were always wilder, less human, and freer.
My usual steps brought me nearer to
the cat on a leash. The owner had his back to me,
he seemed unaware of my approach.
But Siamese cat offered me a predatory stare,
ready to pounce on my flopping shoelaces.
I knew then my shoes were doomed,
my laces would soon die.
No, I couldn’t stop laughing.
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