“A Ring a-Ding-Ding”
Cheery
jingling airs
Hurried purchases
made
Reunions after
another year
Incoming after
not a whisper
Secrets kept
selectively - while
Tea spilled
and
Macaroons
were consumed
All mighty
praised.
Silent is
the night
Igniting a
spark
Sending new
ripples - for the hope that
Holy is
the name that will give
Eternal bliss
Layered greed
with targeted flash art
Leeching His sacrificial meaning.
“Along Comes the Harvest”
Wonderous floating golden globe
galloping along to Spring
luminous changing sickle lobe.
Earth ready for carefully planned
seedlings.
The melting pot split in to two.
Water my sproutlings
New red fruit grew
Great wide leaves shadowing
hidden tiny blooms
Proud pumpkin blossoms
sweet smell they can’t refuse.
waiting out cloudy subterfuge
Stones sit in silence
Overlooking Mother’s finest.
“Past Gone Fast”
Fervent days now gone
Filigreed hands spinning fast
Never stopping past.
You
lying, dog-faced pony soldier
And
this isn’t hyperbole.
I’m
gonna get in trouble,
What
am I doing here?
I
promise you this
No
Malarkey!
Come
on man,
No
Joe!
Go!
What the
heck?
Have you
ever heard of Glenn Beck?
But he
looks like Colonel Sanders.
At least
he isn’t like Moll of Flanders!
"Slender"
Caressed
by snowy chilled fingers
Ravaged
by time-- never tender.
Arched
and taught-- a sliver of memory.
Voices
hushed by glittery flakes,
Entranced
with slow weaving freeze.
To
the quiet place that I retreat to internally.
Come,
construct my mental warehouse with me.
The
safest space a child can remember with either terror or joy.
Matilda's
favorite place.
Uncounted
universes and brutal truths.
Dazzling
words of invention and argument betwixt creations.
Eventually, my enjoyment couldn't come home with me anymore.
My
big day had come and went.
I
couldn't go back to the chair where I found quiet and focus
Looking
out and over the trees.
The
bench off in the distance,
Almost
out of sight.
My
peers laughing and having a match of hacky sack.
Lonely
but safe among the stacks and fluttering verses.
Mumbling
broken curses when your finger was punished
by
careless angles of how you handled.
I
say careful,
That
binding should be an incredible find, for your mind.
I
didn't fit in, so I ran within the doors of knowledge
that
encouraged that I explore what its walls were hiding.
Every
nook and cranny now filled with old friends I met later in the years.
One
by one I met them in yards and garages
To
spirit them off one at a time for no more than a dime.
My
room now becomes so full.
Of
the adventures of others,
Facts
that dispel the mysteries,
A
mighty struggle
of
the adult
is
still grasping that great place where I still recall,
where
it's so lovely in the fall.
It
was a place I could go and say,
"what's
on the end of my pen today?"
“You Naughty Bard”
Why couldn’t
it be
So clever
with that elegant tongue
Or shall
I wait to two and forty?
A song
that hasn’t been sung.
Reaching
into the letters of the ages.
Sad past
reflections whispering of their time.
Oh, how I
want you, not between the pages.
Standing
before me; tall, strong of mind.
Take the
reigns and row the oars
I’ll
chart an adventure
Perhaps
walking on chilly sandy shores,
The paths
- hidden, never clear
Your
blank verse and love of puns and metaphor,
Rocks and
shakes me, wanting more.
x
