Sunday, February 26, 2017

February 26, 2017 The Sunday Whirl #288 -- Sunday's Whirligig #100 -- Poets United Poets Pantry / Once Upon a Time...

Once Upon a Time...

nary a feather upon us          we are furry creatures                 you see

two lockets                            one old and blue                         one new of silver

like the moon                        made of cheese                            polished shiny

or sometimes dull                 i seek the words that will             say the news

tell the tale                            from beginning to end                                  sigh...

at noon                                  the blood is spilled       the red bleeds across the canvas

lunch is served             alabaster oysters shells arranged      on the pink porcelain plates

bloated bellies stuffed with cream       bathed in sauce         the walrus and the carpenter

ambling along the beach       kicking sand in all directions     wading into shallow water

reciting poems                       following their own footprints in the sand      sign...

the earth spins            the sun rises                           to light the world

on this planet         morning is a perfectly good place             to begin the story

we will decide...       once upon a time...     or if we begin at the beginning will it be a jinx

better to begin at the end        our story begins/ends             they lived happily ever after

and what happens after            the truth is there is no beginning/no end             for us

the world continues each morning        we make the bed      and at night it is where we sleep

February 26, 2017

Thursday, February 23, 2017

February 23, 2017 deVerse Open Link/Frozen


do not ask me to remember       as if I could forget...       a morning in december

mom said you had gone away      or that morning in september    the phone rang

no one there                              rang again                       at last you spoke

to share the news                      how often has it happened      the phone rang

your world collapsed                born again into another world      seconds passed

i was with you                           on that morning        you took three short breaths

and went away                           i remained                                    empty

in the silence afterwards       nothing left to say          the phone rang again           

you said he had gone away          still a boy                           the kindest soul

i heard your voice                   i knew                           before you spoke a word

the phone rang on another night     you said    he was dead now accidental overdose

a boy in pain                          trying to find his way           or the morning in june

arrived at the hospital            to find you had gone       no do not ask me to remember

what is impossible to forget       all the endings                        i remember

just another second                on the face of the clock               tick, tick, tick

an avalanche                              an earthquake                   the last beat of a heart

i the cadaver                              frozen                                the pain has ceased

February 23, 2017

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

February 22, 2017 Poets United Midweek Motif/Nostalgia


some days are like that       my thoughts find you          the boy you were

your laughter                your tussled blond hair              your sky blue eyes

the way you would say         “mom – mom”           and then fill in the blanks

with your latest discovery       always excited                      in the moment

the small things                and large           you helped me see the world anew

you pad across the sand        your footprints follow you     your red swim trunks

your strong shoulders                  the grains of pink sand between your fingers

the seashells collected         the little fish                             in your aquarium

salt water                             hauled up to the deck               you studied sea life

up close                                filled the hours                         watching to see

that other world                  not so far away             you created memories for me

filled my heart                with days gone by        today... i am reminded of sunny days

precious memories of you         i would not trade them            for diamonds or gold

my heart is filled with thoughts          of a boy                         and seagull cries

February 22, 2017

Tuesday, February 21, 2017

February 21, 2017 deVerse/A Suburb poem


where are we            when we are neither                         near nor far

just across the line    out of reach                       a place with no real name

might be called happy valley/or green acres           not listed on the map

unknown                   to you and me                        for some

a place called home     no library of our own         strip malls and gas stations

churches and such       just off the highway            forgotten

nobody's dream           not a town or village           not a hometown to be claimed

a place made up        all the streets look the same          the houses and people too

it is the suburbs         a place that is no place at all      simply somewhere in between

February 21, 2017

Sunday, February 19, 2017

February 19, 2017 The Sunday Whirl #287 - Sunday's Whirligig #99 - Poets United Poets Pantry/Bach's Concerto #7

Bach's Concerto #7

the sound of the harpsichord fills the air          marooned

no rescue expected     hope slips away      no lifeline in sight

death has no domain           (s)he is comfortable anywhere

                                                                        welcome nowhere

signs etched in the sky   there are no explanations for the truth

(s)he will not be denied    (s)he walks the corridor checking the

                                               numbers on the door against her list

no deals made           when your number comes up

no one else will be accepted           (s)he approaches

extends her hand               steps to the music swings

                                                                  twists and turns

glides across the floor       could (s)he come to rescue after all

youth is fleeting      life seems long/short       in this moment we

                                                                                    are here

just as suddenly      we are there          the exact location unknown

we are all dying     we die tomorrow                  or the day after

secrets whispered                  black cloth tied over the mirrors

the music plays on         we dance in the darkened room

                                                                    we are all dying today

February 19, 2017

Note:  I do not know why some words are in larger fonts, in "strange" places, they are not my intention, but I do not know how to get rid of them?

Wednesday, February 15, 2017

February 15, 2017 Poets United/Midweek Motif/Love...

“It is better to have loved and lost, than not to loved at all.” Alfred Lord Tennyson.


often we don't even see it coming    walking down the street  until it knocks you down

a complex thing           a complicated thing              can get in your way

or can show you the way/ makes all things better...sometime/ can break your heart

make you cry                fill your life                         water loneliness

make it grow              when you choose to love/ there is always a price to pay

often more that one can bear/ nothing simple about love         and we always think

it is only our's that is complicated     still one opens his eyes/and there is so much to love

mountain, sky and land            and water                  colors infinite

sunshine and shadows        stars sparkle in the nighttime sky           all things living

things remembered                  past and present                                 the air itself

breathe in and out                    open your heart                                  let love in

slip into it/quench your thirst          a watering hole                          a place to play

a place to heal                          a place to grow                                 a place to grieve

love smooths out all the sharp corners      allows room              blows your world apart

as was said                       “better to have loved and lost/ than not to have loved at all”

February 15, 2017

Sunday, February 12, 2017

February 12, 2017 Sunday's Whirligig #98 -- Poets United Poets Pantry -- The Sunday Whirl #286/Familiar Melody

Familiar Melody

burlap or hair shirt     scratches the skin          bread and butter

gutted and skinned     the unforgiven                riding his pony

hidden canyons            a holy silence      as if the rider was the first

returning home            face covered                  singing songs

like cowboys in the old west      melody familiar        voice resounds

echoes against red rocks   sits upright in the saddle    speaks not a word

this is not unusual          a boy leaves home                    much later...

returns to his roots         ragged and worn                       a boy no more

still...not quite a man     challenges met                          a few gray strands

in his light brown hair   singing new songs                    new rhythms

a ferocity in his eyes      he has seen much           the world is not always kind

the path rugged              he sits on the stool                   by the front door

a poet now                     writing his own songs              a familiar melody

February 12, 2017

Thursday, February 9, 2017

Feburary 9, 2017 deVerse Open Link Night/ The View Obscured

The View Obscured

clouds hang heavy                   dark and grey                          snow flurries expected

hard to breathe             music plays in the distance      ground blue in the pot

mixed with black                     dip my brush                           and scrape excess away

paint the shape             the sun moves across the sky              yet screened by clouds

the light is low             a definite grey                          sometimes this place

aint so good                            wish to be in another day        a day of sunshine and shadows

without stupid words              in disarray                               instead

delightful chatter                      like the birds on the bough      singing the day away

heavy clouds on mountain tops           under water                 in the desert

all is quiet                                i wait for your display you come

disturb my sleep                      i remember you                       like the cowboy of other days

in the sunset                            you rode your horse away       dust rose from his hooves

on distant horizon                    dust and clouds                       obscure my view

February 7th, 2017                              


February 9, 2017 Poets United Midweek Motif/ Space


is there space enough      and how much is enough           how much is needed

step out the door             space is limitless                       space as far as the eye can see

and then some people do need a lot of space      it is not that they are such big people

but they have big ideas   big dreams                                 big possibilities

and space is needed to hold it all     some people occupy small spaces     don't need much

and yet accomplish big things              is it the space between the front cover and the back

space enough to develop the plot      tell the story                     and space to find the ending

when we lie down at night        is there space enough to roam free    or is it just too crowded

with old stories baggage            over packed                it is the second month of the new year

time to unload                         throw out the old                         make space for the new

fly free with the birds              learn their routes                         join the butterflies

flit from flower to flower         explore the space                        strut with the tarantulas

touch all that surrounds you    own your space                           outline it with chalk

you will find                            the space you have                      is enough

February 9, 2017

Tuesday, February 7, 2017

February 7, 2017 deVerse/Sorrow in the Rain that Came

Sorrow in the Rain that Came

you stirred the pot with a sour phrase let me give it to you

straight up you twisted the scene said you were protecting

but I remember you ran from the scene the only thing you were protecting 

was your own sorry ass rum and raisins stirred in carefully

acted as if you were two years old raised your voice gave a last call

raised your sails three sheets to the wind acted as if it was you

who had been shaken and shot when it was you who said the awful things

stirred the pot left to die on the rocks vespers came in times square

you tied one on hammered the heart flew your plane

like a kamikaze pilot there is no elixir name you poison

drown your sorrows in the rain that came there is no proof of what i say

no video only my memory of that day and your's of course

each so different we get to own what is our's wear the hair of the dog

February 7, 2017


  Mother   mother, a simple word just six letters   “m” is for mine, meadow, meow all the wonders of the world wild meadow orchids including...