Just something a little light...
Five squirrels crowded onto a branch,
each one dressed to stun:
aqua shades, pink shades, purple shades,
and one in classic sun.
But center stage is the showstopper~
a squirrel in a whirring hat,
its tiny fan spinning proudly
like he’s chief of all things “that.”
They chatter, pose, adjust their gear,
a cheerful, nutty crew,
delighted by their leafy perch
and the sky’s wide, wandering view.
No drama here, no woodland fuss~
just friends who came to play,
a happy scurry of squirrels who know
how to brighten up a day.
The metal scythe like science-fiction machinery whirring passed the farmhouses as dusk enclosed them willingly, soft keystrokes chimed across the fields to the north to sour the fall of the denizens makers are wild on the hunt, but those felled by this reaper took the brunt of the scorned, so this was their last look upon the earth in all realities, the bell chimes for those, and this reaper shalt battle through that first course of lesser bushes and miserly zeal.
Behind a pane of vintage
glass he stands,
A silent wizard from a distant
land.
With golden turban and a
paisley vest,
He wakes to life at a coin's
request.
An iron token drops into the
slot,
And gears awaken what the
workshop wrought.
His painted eyes begin to roll
and gleam,
A sudden actor in a neon
dream.
The crystal ball lights up with
shifting fire,
Responding to the circuit
board's desire.
He nods his head and waves
a mechanical hand,
Dispensing secrets from the
desert sand.
"Zoltar Speaks!" his booming
voice declares,
To startled children at the
crowded fairs.
His motorized jaw clicks
open and goes slack,
Demanding that you never
look back.
A whirring motor drops a
paper slip,
Your future written on a
cardboard strip.
The music fades, the blinking
lights grow dim,
And quiet shadows settle
back on him.
He waits alone inside his
wooden box,
A trapped magician under
glass and locks.
When the day is falling over
And a crescent moon peeps through
I am looking towards Dover
It is not too far from you
There is not a sign of cloud
In the muted blue of sky
It’s a picture without sound
Breathing softly drifts on by
And I see white cliffs of Dover
Though farsighted I am not
Hear the whirring of your mower
What a hearing I’ve got
In the quiet of a moment
In the glow of fading blue
I can sense more than I wanted
Except that I can’t see you.
caress of bliss as soft as a feather
or as a wheel whirring at any node
each pore a door pulsating together
the void of no-thingness is our abode
where vibrant presence sings to God an ode
wonder struck sensing bliss magnetism rise
with each breath ushering a new surprise
Dizzy the stars
in darkest flight;
I’m the universe.
Dizzy the moonlight
blinding me at night;
dreaming I suppose.
Dizzy the oaks,
waving hello
with their stark shapes.
Dizzy the embers
flickering like fireflies
in late Winter.
Dizzy the rain;
pounding, but not
a Northern blizzard.
Dizzy my cavity,
where lemons squeeze
when all is not right.
Dizzy with bird sound.
Seems absurd
in the dull of morning.
Dizzy with God
who knows the trills
I need to start this day.
Dizzy with the waves
the beep-beep of machine
and familial heart.
Dizzy the arm wings
of a child
whirring round and round.
Dizzy me…
with love concur
chakras whirring
then stir bliss mists
I step from whirring future gears
To shadowed halls of moss and mire,
Where candles flicker, knowledge fears,
And hope is but a guttering fire.
Cobblestones echo underfoot,
A market square of mud and cries—
Peasants barter, beggars brood,
Monks guard secrets, wary-eyed.
The plague carts rattle down the lane,
A priest’s Latin lost on cold stone,
Superstition thick as rain—
Witch or wise, you die alone.
But look—within the abbey’s walls,
A child’s voice stirs the silent night,
Tracing stars on parchment, small,
Dreaming truths beyond the fright.
If I could change one thread of fate,
Would I bring a book, a spark,
A word of science to translate
The world from brittle dark?
But history’s woven, coarse and tight—
A single tug might fray the seams.
So gently, I leave one lantern light,
And trust the dawn to find their dreams.
It’s in the rites of passage
That we learn from
It’s in the rites of passage
That we grow
It’s in the rites of passage
That our soul becomes our own
I remember a time when life was innocent
Where we all got on and life was pure
But as the years passed by I soon realised
That life was what I had to endure
It’s in the rites of passage
That we learn from
It’s in the rites of passage
That we grow
It’s in the rites of passage
That our soul becomes our own
At this juncture in my life
I can’t help but look back
Wondering if the Whys and Wherefore
Were worth the payback
Living with never ending questions
Whirring in my brain
Knowing the answers to these questions
Were impossible to obtain
Learning through every hardship
Losing battles but not the war
And many times I’m left broken
And crying ‘what was it all for?’
It’s in the rites of passage …….
cartwheels of energy
whirring, rotating
within each cell
as a whole looping form
an enigma we do not analyse
for it is what it is
an endless evolution
in divine entwined celebration
BOOM.
a puff of purple powder stains the pewter sky.
i sit, listening
to the whirring and fizzling
of the firey starlit, glistening
when the midnight clock strikes nigh.
a red light joins in the heavens high,
shimmering
and with a crisp, cool whistling
a tune as musical, magical as fiddling
that steals away breaths by and by.
when all is said and done,
and the burns in my retinas fade
when these make-believe stars no longer masquerade
little embers are here and there laid
riddled around, each like a tiny, broken sun.
when the conjunction has ceased to be fun
and each person begins to wade
through darkness thick and blood stained,
the embers are left to rot in misery made,
and the sky is left wondering in silence we spun.
with the monsoon rains,
a green June bug came whirring,
to our living room~
my smart cat after playing,
gulped down this hapless victim.
Beware if you find yourself in a dark dank place
You may become the prey of Old Schnozz Face
Don't bother spraying him with a can of mace
He's a Vampiric creature of the Mosquito race
I detest the sound of his buzz buzzing in my ear
When in bed, that irksome droning sound I hear
That long needle nose is a grotesque thing to fear
I'd put something in his bag that came from a pee'er!
"Mosquito Man, why do you bother wearing pants?"
His reply came across as more angry whirring rants.
If their needles break, can mosquitoes get implants?
He just landed on a painting, one of my Rembrandts
It's way past time for me to put this skeletal pest away
The plan I have in mind will put an end to him, I pray
I've been bitten and harassed for the last time today
I'm taking out the big gun to fry him with a gamma ray!
Thoughts are Swirling,
Wind is whirring,
Birds chirping,
Swarming.
The clouds are forming,.
I'm brainstorming,
There's a storm warning.
Lightning and Thunder,
Come to uncover,
Another wonder.
New concepts to ponder.
As I wander,
Through Possibilities,
Lying dormant within me.
Light flashing excitedly,
Waiting for me to see,
The Energies before me.
Thunder rumbles the Ground,
Crashing sounds,
Toss my thoughts around.
Existence and Reality,
How did I come to be,
Is something molding me?
Holding A Key,
I unlock the door.
Beginning to Explore,
More and more,
Straight to the core.
Soaring with precision.
get a clear vision,
Of the Mission.
Making the decision,
living in Duality.
Cells trapped by gravity,
Floating through a Galaxy.
Walls you cant See,
Expanding with me.
Standing free,
Staring into Eternity.
Home to infinity,
I search the rooms within me.
Life is Expansion,
We are The Mansion,
Holding the Keys,
To Form Realities.
Entering again,
Building a new frame.
It's never the same,
There to Claim,
When you enter your domain.
The blender switches on,
The Clock starts ticking.
Stitching it's imprint,
Into Existence.
Each Instant,
Different.
Gears whirring,
Agitated, Stirring Emotions,
Splicing, Thoughts churning ,
Forcing Conforming,
To the vortex That's forming.
Conflicting Actions,
Unconscious Reactions,
Robbing Our Satisfaction.
We Keep on Running,
To the Next Attraction.
Unaware of the distraction,
Keeping us in Line.
Trapped in Times Design,
It Defines your day.
How Long you have to Stay,
Then Sends you on your way.
There's even Time to Pay.
Never Enough for Play,
So throw none of it away.
Attached to every move,
It fills all the Grooves.
Smooth and sly,
It slides on by.
Flying beside you,
Guiding, and Dividing,
Perfect timing.
The more fun we have,
Seems as it were cut in Half.
Yet an hour in sorrow,
Feels like no Tomorrow.
Your Faithful Companion,
A Wound mender.
Or your toughest Contender,
Keeping you in The Blender.
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