The wind rose early with the busying dawn,
And, rushing into the long avenue of beech -
Laid down years ago to accommodate labouring feet,
Began to scatter over neatly cut verge and lawns
With its own inimitable unruly gust, blow and fuss...
Within a cascading maelstrom of vivid bright yellowness.
Against strong trunks, held firm by steadfast roots,
Groans from creaking boughs as they upwardly heaved
Upon frantically thrashing branches showering
rusted, golden leaves;
Carpeting the rough stones below my trampling boots.
A mad kaleidoscope of leaping, swirling, skipping
colour
Where, as a child, I had once rediscovered...
Two green sandstone gate pillars sat well back
That ushered me under this arched, canopied track.
Who needs to be a rider
racing 'round a track
way back in the crowd
I'm going to lead the pack
who needs to be a loser
spinning on their wheels
or yield pole position
I'm going to lead the field
and wear the yellow jersey
the one who wins your heart
no longer in a supporting role
I'll have the starring part
and if you'll be my leading lady
and I'm your leading man
I'll always be upfront
always in the van
You know you've hit rock bottom for sure
when you find your track
in a used record store
under a stack at the very back
of the ten pee CD rack
(does anyone buy them anymore?)
and you know you've hit the all-time low
it's a sure bet
when you don't see your song
in any list at all
on the worldwide internet
rock bottom don't get lower than that
from up to down at the drop of a hat
better to be a has-been a player in the game
than a never-was because
they may have been the best of times
and tho' memories will last
I won't spend the rest of my days
living in the past
Looking for every relevant love song
To make a playlist that is only so long
For the new man whom I now belong to,
To show all the strong feelings he has too.
Promises now fade,
Deeds of past speak volumes loud,
Future's shape is known.
©bfa050925
I waited for the midnight train
on the platform in the rain.
It was windy, it was bitter cold
and i was feeling bit frail and old.
Patiently i awaited the arrival of my niece
who was coming home from Greece.
I had time to wander down memory lane
where images flashed wearily in my brain:
she was days old when I held her in my arms
she's become a young lady with uncanny charms
AP: 3rd place 2025
Skip-skip-skip
like a cd
that stops playing once it hits
track number nine
current mindset is one of which
I can't skip over.
I'm reading my life through these
lyrics
Humming to the melody of my own heart.
beating anxieties being featured in a listless motion
remixing into a sadness few summers have known
If my car has GPS, I do not know it
Can people track me? Follow me? Stalk me?
If I was super interested, I might open the manual
But that book is six thousand pages thick
And the teeny tiny words make sand grains look colossal.
Side A:
Players of an album made...
Vinyl, cassette, CD.
Audio output displayed
To ears of you and me.
Mono in the days of old
For output of a song.
Better mixing would unfold
When stereo came along.
Physicality was more
Abundant way back when.
One went to the music store
To buy albums - and then...
Side B:
...after years of being sold
In shops to you and me,
Music nowadays is told
And heard in MP3.
One's collection can be built
Online and through their phone.
Consider music as a quilt
With tracks together sewn.
Who would have visioned or thought
That since days of devices,
Artists can be streamed and bought
At reasonable prices?
Jumping might be my favorite word
or frolicking, prancing, dancing
anyway, it’s something with an ing ending
I can assure you of that
I get sick of throwing down the same words
feeling redundant and trite once again
I have no idea how to freshen my mind up
to spin things around to other words
what about words with d endings?
placid; lucid, horrid, morbid.
I see why these won’t work.
Still I try to jump off my dendrite track.
to get away from my blaring mediocrity.
To no avail, for every blank sheet of paper
is yelling for me to throw down jumping or dancing
and so I do, and so I do.
it's quite good actually
Jericho likes it -
but i'm struggling not to giggle
as i lie on the bed in the middle
of the night
my wife is not giggling
she is asleep
but i am certain i heard giggling
through the wall
yes, the neighbours are giggling
both of them
i look for the saw
because i want to join them
through the wall
and we can giggle together
it takes forty minutes
i'm through the wall
and the portal
leads me to the giggling
she's tickling the dermatologist
i look back through the excavation
i tiptoe back in
and i wake up my wife
and after twenty minutes she giggles with me -
until she sees the space in the wall
we stare at it from the bed
i burp loudly
what a time to be alive
A déjà vu? What can I say?
I know the track so well.
It is so dark yet treacherous.
I am not afraid. Careful, here is a curve,
it almost turns onto itself.
An old oak tree stands there,
just off the corner. I can smell
its delicious odour or feel
its sturdy trunk, its cracked bark.
I hear the lower heavy branches
swinging slowly in the breeze.
Watch out, there's a ditch there,
dank water, that smells like drains.
And just before it a small jutting rock
that can easily help you tumble
into the murky stinking place.
Walk on, do not mind the dark
nor the screech of the nightly owl,
just mind where you step
for the ground is quite treacherous here.
It's not far now. Hear the dog
on guard, barking its warning.
Not to worry, it knows me all too well
although I cannot see it.
How can I? I'm blind.
time's sub-tracks tie-me
to a now
that's as some...
pre-sent present pressing
to pass-age in
a timeless aware-nest
stans sand
Everyone believes
that the path they go through
every day
is well-known,
In fact, it's a track to unknown
In a dream, beneath Columbus' watchful gaze,
Where the capitol’s dome with the blue heavens waltz,
Strolling alongside the Governor, in harmonious ways,
Our footsteps chanced upon the city's hidden vaults.
Dusk beckoned, a murmur urging us to roam,
Cleveland, my home, through the fantasy did thread,
First adrift, then guided by heart back home,
A train missed, the voyage's lament, a path of dread.
Another locomotive, with heartbeats encased in metal's hold,
My briefcase and luggage, on the platform abandoned in the frost,
A conductor’s poetic words, let go of your baggage, be bold,
Tales of life's loads, and the art of releasing what's lost.
Halted, the train on destiny's meticulously drawn line,
A voyage through life, where loss and blessing entwine,
At every halt, a lesson, an opportunity to align,
Where dreams and reality, over time, combine.
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