Shadow Waters
The water-bearer leans his urn silently,
pours starlight over forsaken streets
where neon lights flash their final confessions
and shattered promises accumulate like rain.
Here in the reverse trickle of time,
where advancement is lost in its own reflection,
the era turns in, searching for explanations
in dregs of what we believed we'd gained.
Electric prophets air hollow gospels
while the crowds scroll through ghost lives,
each contact another strand that entwines us
to this tapestry of lovely despair.
The constellation turns above, unchanging
those very stars that once held out liberty
now witness us tumble into the labyrinth
we built from our own radiant ideals.
In tower suites and lower-level clubs,
the children of the future sell their souls
to algorithms who recognize their secret names
and dole them out in morsels, afterwards.
Yet, still, the water flows, unceasing,
carrying seeds of something not yet born
perhaps redemption sleeps in darkness
of this shattered, brilliant age.
The carrier's face away from us,
sloshing the future drop by drop
while we stand dry in the flood,
suffocating in our own lighted shadows.
After comments I received from CayCay and Tim, I knew this song I wrote was about them. Hope you all like it.
Life's Love
We all knew a fellow named ‘Tiny Tim’
Fit as a fiddle, though extremely slim
Poor Tim had weakling muscles
And needed a side hustle
So he spent all his spare time in the gym
There once was a witty "tot", Tim,
His "radar" detected all the slim.
With "level" of glee,
He'd "deified" spree,
"Level" elated, Thats Tim's whim!
it’s the little things like tim tams.
having gotten my attention, the box
hops into my shopping cart, but not
before I cartwheel and squeal, certain
that one of the poets has nurtured
my senses with an Australian accent.
i’m handing them out, like pamphlets,
according to the number in the family.
of course, they’re crunchy and cold.
my husband, straight away, placed
the box in the fridge. U.S.A. all the way.
my neighbor came over for coffee.
before she left, i handed her three treats.
she gasped, herself a published author,
she had just gleamed in a current read
of munchable tim tams…indeed! of course.
to treat my bible study group friends,
i will have to grab another, unopened box,
hand them out for free. the delightful share
the Word and Aussie-awesome treats,
alongside hot water and teabags. cartwheeling…
Cast in a shadowy mist.
The blue light of the Moon.
Passed our Timmy B.
Witness Quaaludes.
Inside your pain
I did not see your hurt
The time has come for you to fly free
Life has dealt you a losing hand
In death you are four of a kind
My heart hurts
My eyes blind
Reality has not set in
You are never going to be there again
Oh the words i wish i could have spoke
The time well wasted
Your soul a beechen of light
Your kindness uncanny
You were the inspiration of your generation
This world has lost so much
But heaven as gained an angel like no other
I will miss all you gave and cherish all i have gained
Rest well my brother and keep watching over us
Someday we shall see you again and what a glorious day it will be.
There you stand at heavens gate
This ain't your same ole truck ride
This is your destination
Tim this is your best realization
This is where a man of such love and care for others belongs
You were a rock for your family
A lifeline for your friends
A hero for your son
A foundation for your wife
You had a unique sense of humor
A fresh take on life
You were the one i called first when i had a problem
You always answered the call
You answered every call from anyone who needed help
You were a friend a mentor a wonderful human being
I and everyone you knew will miss you eternally
Fly free free from the pain my friend
And soar like the angel you were in life.
Love and miss you my friend from now on till forever.
Movie popcorn Tim purchased to share
with his date, who did not seem to care
when she first felt, then SAW
him reach into her bra.
Then she laughed, “There’s no popcorn down there!”
May 2, 2023
For Tania Kitchin's A Funny Or Bawdy Limerick Poetry Contest
There was a fellow named Tim
Who loved to drink lots of gin.
Got drunk on the beach,
dove in water out of reach.
Too bad he didn't know how to swim.
the time has come to bury tim
his artificial heart could not take the reality
when he was born, the world became more colorful
his energy and his smile was like water to what once was
i will remember his baseball card collection and his passion for the game
he could have been another ozzie smith for he cut enough flips
he idolized derek jeter as well and would light up when he saw him play
when his weak heart expressed itself, gone was his original dream
however, he found another
after reading poems by e.e. cummings, he tried to write poems like him
tim emulated and imitated until he made it his own
one day i will post a few of his works
until then, the time has come to bury tim
rest easy, dear sweet nephew, i was hoping that you would make it to ten
Its Christmas time again
All around the world
And right here in my living room
Old dog’s lazed out on his mat by my fireplace
Dreaming dog dreams of a bone or two
To be found on Christmas morning,
While old Tom Cat purrrrrrs, in heaves,
In my, his, lazy boy chair
Dreaming cat dreams of his favorites, too.
In every country kid’s letters are
Being read to fulfill their wishes, high,
As moms and dads look in their eyes,
Forgetting naughtiness gone by.
And there are those who will go through
These days and nights that come around
And they can see no change from yesterday
Or days they suffered through in June or July.
So, drop a five or ten in kettles red,
A smile or two to faces met,
A “Hello! How are you?” to someone new
And say a prayer for everyone
And every Tiny Tim.
W.C.Hull © 2009-23-12-673 (D) 106
she be...
wait-dressed
to serve...
the late-stressed
try her
...sugar sweetened...
dark roast
...andt...
double espresso
...all with a...
table trot
stans sand
Here lies the body shot to hell
Of the gunslinger Tim McGraw
Quick on the trigger, all can tell
He was awful slow on the draw
11-16-20
Contest: Quat-Ro your Four Line
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Little ghosts were sitting on a limb.
They were named Big Mac, Ugly Toot and Tim.
One spit out a head.
It was my friend Ted.
Now I am truly terrified of them.
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