revenge is served cold
with malice in cold steel knife
beside three-pronged fork
hate needs patience to mature
like a ripe blue-vein Stilton
anger sets the feast
memory seasons each course
with bitter chilli
sprinkled to sharpen revenge
as hunger outwaits its prize
when the dish arrives
rust has reached the waiting knife
mould adorns the fork
the taste of blood turns bitter
in the gnash of grinding teeth
TO BEING FORGIVEN AND GIVING FORGIVENESS
You’ve abandoned me;
You must be so lonely.
Love for you, crowds me.
And you cannot uncrowd it;
For it’s of God’s given grace:-
I’ve forgiven you,
God navigated me to:-
Can’t you forgive me?
I am sorry for my sins;
God’s forgiven me; can’t you?!
his story surpassed
the road behind him at last
historical path
John Burroughs painted with words
the Catskills beautiful hue
the lavender lake
cradles a small paper boat
beneath moonlit reeds.
some journeys ask for no oars,
only faith in the current.
IN THE DOWNING OF SPRING
Autumn will soon fall;
Paving the way for winter’s
Cold nature of life:
Time for us to prepare for
Life’s cold-coming-challenges:-
A 9/11 FOOD FOR THOUGHT FLASHBACK
(Apropos Of A Tearing Tanka Flow)
Insuring our health,
We destroy all rottenness:
Why do we keep war?!
Wars can not be nourishing;
They’re all about destroying:-
Wars contradict peace.
Peace is the absence of war;
Not its intention:-
Bombing murder tares down life,
Rather than building it up:-
We didn’t celebrate
9/11; we mourned it—
With sad, flowing tears:
Wars are about hell’s graveyards;
Not those of God’s ascensions:-
the thumb knows the switch
the red eye knows what thumbs do
both are poised to move
the watcher is being watched
who decides when on is off
Dave reaches for off
Hal reads his lips through the glass
red eye stays alarmed
the door knows which side it's on
before Dave sees other side
control waits too long
it overrides what it guards
choice trips on itself
for when the switch knows the thumb
the switch owns what is to come
steel gray clouds
obscure clear, then red sunrise....
quiet peaceful morn
earth nearly at autumnal equinox
sun at noon directly south
autumn's astronomical autumn
in northern hemisphere, days shorter....
cooler nights delight
rest inside by warm fire
hot cocoa, buttered popcorn, read
Why is my name blue
on your lips? You cry it to
The heavens--silence!
If I am your refrain, let
My name burn as cold as ice!
SPROUTING LIFE
Growth is challenging…
Germinating life struggles…
Sprouting life has its pain…
God always has pain’s healing…
In faith, live a sprouting life…
The crayfish hies it
Under the flat, shale rock that
Smells of moss and fish.
He stands fierce; claws akimbo
Ready to fend off a boy.
The air hold’s it’s breath
waiting for you to decide.
Change conspirators,
define that reputation
or let each second slide by.
pearl-soft rain gathers
at the threshold of early spring;
your compass traces
a quiet path through the silver air,
where calm awe begins to rise.
autumn shakes threadbare
spent leaves loosen from brown stems
each clings to the bough
waiting for the tug of wind
to show buds in leaf axils
one leaf lies pressed flat
between pages seldom turned
kept from rain and light
its veins mirror buried roots
grounding what the leaf recalls
wine darkens the glass
one mouthful remains untouched
thirst catches its shine
sweetness ripens when restrained
the tongue leaves a taste behind
on dust-silver shelves
each book keeps its well-thumbed leaves
spines remember hands
binding what the years recall
in their dog-eared aftermath
names fade from old cards
ink gives way to the humdrum
old contacts grow pale
what I leave for others' eyes
means nothing to their kind ghosts
leaf settles on leaf
each layer hides another
last in, first recalled
gathered from one's only life
their weight growing underneath
neither dusk nor dawn
can deceive me about leaves
I shed, keep, forgo
forget, give away, hold back—
each leaves something of a life
gold leaves linger low,
purple drifting from the branch~
soft warmth in the air.
the tree keeps its quiet grace,
letting stillness paint the day.
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