"The Scent of Eden"
Up the road I walked
as if in some golden hazy dream
and along the road an honour guard
to the left of me, of red-ripe apple trees
I walked bare feet
into that lush abundance
of waving dark forest green
the scent of mystery, fresh petrichor
wet leaves underneath my soul
moistly called me in, to believe
some kind of beckoning
to unprocessed novel new beginnings
I plucked the largest I could find, as always
stretching too far above me
then, in my hands
I raised it to my rosy lips
before I took it fully in, my over-soul
breathed its knowledge o’er me like a twin
wisdom, its gilded giddy perfume
the scent of Eden,
sings
Candide Diderot. ‘25
sitting outside in my pajamas
a beautiful breezy May morning
dandelion, clover and violets at my feet
my puppy is splashing in his pool, making it muddy
King dog lies in the shade under a hemlock tree
fluffy white dandelion fuzz barely moves
I hear a small plane engine
not one bit of traffic here
birds are chirping and tweeting
diverse colors of green between trees and bushes
interstate noises are far off in the distance
someone shuts a door up the road
motorcycle engine
a lone car drives past
dogs used to chase the fence when this happened, not today
baby dog is digging a hole to put his face in
King dog sits on my foot, all one hundred and twenty-six pounds of him
perfect morning
each Cobblestone makes up the road
ouch from your very sharp high heel shoes
A village in the sun
There is a small village with a few streets that have no name and houses have no number twelve I bought a small home that had stood empty for years when not used as a stable for the unique Algarvian white long-eared donkey
Retired workers in the village up the road where the shop was located next door to a café where they sat enjoying their beer fixed my house and soon I with my dogs everyone in the Algarve has a dog and I could spend my time writing poetry or walking in the wood
This Idyll was too perfect to last, one day a group of English tourists came to my village, and I, the only one who spoke English sealed the village's fate by telling them what a wonderful this place was and that there were several empty houses for sale the homes were snapped up and before you could say, Adam, the village became English
Cans of beer in the ditches, late-night parties scantily dressed women craving sex and sun the idyll was over it was time to leave my refuge from a noisy place filled with people who said how much they loved Portugal
Where are the bamboo
Banana husk, dad's stone chair
Mom's vegetable pots.
Where are the rice fields
Peanuts, peas, potatoes
Corn, cassava, sweet and tamarind.
Where is my childhood place
I look for every sunset
Just look out at the simpliest things.
Now I have to fill up everything
To open up the road, open everything else
Why I am not happy at all.
This is the progress you said
Converting farmland to townhomes
Why choose the mountain anyway.
My heart breaks seeing greediness
Easy money dislocating happiness
On the lowly and the unprotected.
How long avarice living the land
Of simple living hide in the sun
God forbade how small conscience is.
Is urbanization answer loophole minds
In the lowland of wizardry breed
Is this what Third World country thinks.
I always say I have dog ears
they are rather wolf ears
I hear things others do not notice
the blowing fan of an air register irritates me
in the morning I wake to the neighbor’s rooster
or a large garbage truck rumbling up the road
my dogs barely hear these things,
continuing their relaxing slumber.
tingles of a ticking clock bug me
whereas no one else notices them
I can barely concentrate if someone is tapping
right now there is a noise I cannot pinpoint
It seems to permeate the air
it is one of those sounds unnoticeable to other humans
but I have wolf ears
I sit here, irritated, trying to decipher it
It might be a light fixture or a hum of a refrigerator
I cannot type another word, trying to sit in silence
begging for silence, which never comes
because I have wolf ears.
Around The Bend
Up the road
I see it bend
Where my feet
So surely send
A body hurled
Towards its end
Up around the bend
From death
My lips do chap
To watch the cat
So closely nap
I, the mouse
Who’s come to tap
It sure to wake
And prowl again
But however unaware
With no thought
Of misplaced care
A shadow did declare
Its faith
Below the moon
For time wore down
The wishes
Like the wake
Of little fishes
Is there something
More delicious
Than the death
Of someone else
The rising sun's fingers cast beams
As the truck's tires sing as it comes along
The crow now has arisen to caw
The lookout caws like something is wrong
There across the way the dove coos
A crow up the road caws too
In the oak tree an unusual sound
Such peace proclaimed brand new
Written June 25, 2024 ...Out On The Porch
So much of yesterday I can clearly see.
There was a man duly a part of my history.
He lived up the road a short distance from us.
We passed his house every day to catch the school bus.
Everyone called him by his last name, which was Baine.
I remember a face that seemed filled with lots of pain.
A hard-working man, but he seldom laughed or expressed joy.
He was the type of man that no one wanted to confront or annoy.
There was one thing about him that enabled me to better understand.
He had a younger wife named Bebe who left him for another younger man.
From that time onward he lived alone and made lots of 'moonshine'.
When I was just a boy, Mr. Baine became a very good friend of mine.
We both loved baseball, and his favorite team was the New York Yankees.
I was a Dodger fan, but we remained friends in spite of the rivalries.
Coming home from school one day, we all noticed that the entire roadway
had the smell of moonshine. It was obvious to us that Mr. Baine's whisky
still had been discovered by law enforcement.
No longer can you plan a trip
When driving is the means,
For calculating ETA’s
Is like a hill of beans.
Construction doesn’t help things,
Though it keeps the traffic slowed,
But the problem is how many
Cars and trucks clog up the road.
To cross a bridge this morning,
Where the backup was a mess,
Added fifty minutes to our ride,
As well as lots of stress.
At times we cannot help it –
Cars can take us door to door,
But it certainly takes longer
Than it ever did before.
I didn't often get a birthday present,
Just a cake and a card my Grandma had sent.
But this year Dad came in from the cold,
He walked very slowly because behind him he was struggling to hold- A beautiful blue eyed, golden haired doll.
I took her everywhere and held her hand,
But a while later she was gone, I searched and I searched but I couldn't find her,
Then out of the window I saw my doll in the arms of a little girl who lived up the road.
I ran to my Dad and asked how this had happened, and he sadly told me he had to sell her to just pay the rent.
The bottom dropped out of my world,
I just didn't understand , why my doll had to go.
My Mum held me close and said I had to be brave, and told me that from now on I should work and save, until one day I had enough to buy my Doll back!
We walked quickly up the road—
The steep hill by your parents' house;
We talked and laughed just like we had,
As snow still lingered on the ground
I looked for rocks that I could keep,
To mark the week so quickly spent,
Within your home, and in your arms,
So that my heart would not forget
We walked until we reached the woods,
And sat beneath the towering pines—
A sanctuary that seemed to me,
More holy than every church combined
I wished that I could have more time,
To sit in silence in the snow,
Reflecting on the love we shared,
But knew that soon I’d have to go.
How often do you think about the time?
For me, it's never very far from mind
Each hour I am reminded by a chime
And when I look, it's left me far behind
Now some will say that you should be resigned
To live each day as if it were your last
If looking up the road, you will be blind
You're wasting time when looking in the past
But time is change and things are changing fast
If you don't look ahead you'll have no plan
You must explore the time already passed
To not repeat mistakes within that span
In life there simply are no guarantees
So I suggest each spend it as they please
Daniel Turner
Spenserian Sonnet
ABAB BCBC CDCD EE
Yes, they told her
they will induce our
baby.It was the high
blood pressure,
it seems
I skipped out
of work early
at twelve. The
maternity unit was
just up the road.
She sat on a table,
legs swinging over the
edge. ‘That’s it,
no more after
this one’.
She looked shattered,
as if she’d run a
marathon. I peeked
at our new arrival, she
was fine.I left
my lunch break,
you see. She says now,
each confinement
was easy. It seemed
different at the time
that summer, Neil Armstrong made
his ‘giant leap for mankind’ we did too.
Somewhere down the road we pass
Under sun's heat, drops amass
Sweat and tears we blast
First kept then cast
Under the Moon's hex that was
Journey along the road we surpass
Under the bridge, jubilation of wrasse
Above our shoulders we carry the mass
Somewhere down the road we pass
Through the wide and crooked roads are crasse
Rubbles spewed by winds on stained glass
Up the road of heights is a watch glass
Down the road we seize grimes of brass
Then lie down on beds of hushed grass
Somewhere down the road we pass
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