Blog Archives

Summer Fancy

Across the dank protean mire
On the slope of a mowed field
The breeze rumples a page over
And the lass missed the poets last verse
Bewitched by the youth’s jogging pace passing by
She dared imagine his arms about hers
And pondered about passion’s cruel curse

The sudden rain scampered our lass
While the boy turned north and to dorm
The promise of Summer freshened newly
Like Latin winds bringing Mercury back to Rome
And a new Arachnida’s web is woven
Life and Death never pause nor long tarry
A half Moon finds the eve’s far horizon
Rooms aren’t the only thing empty back home

Shy winking stars spangle up
To make smart the Southern sky
Lass and lad miles apart wash dishes done
Neither knowing the others’ longing heart
Many mini plans made for reading nooks
A mighty edifice rises in the Tangipahoa
A counselor and her crook’s getaway suite
In a half-told love tale just at the start

Advertisements

Maple Leaf Dance

Faraway from the witnessing sun,
Escaped away from reproving glances of dead roses never sent,
Once dared think our love might grow,
But crushed beneath small expectation to answer for a knee unbent.
Loose laced shoes carry old feet forward on,
Stumbling with a book of ill written rhyme to find you there—
Polite as always but with nothing to add.
Assaulting the ramparts of indifference, I wonder if or should I care.
A frisson of longing ever lingers—
Some memories of dancing in our Maple Leaf Bar;
Happily ever after slips from old fingers
While an indifferent Moon grandly outshines any old star.

Where Are My Stars?

Where are my stars?
Why hath my comforting night lights left me
To blacked out windows in this small room
With not even full curtains to reel with the spring breezes;
Blinds keep the outside away and reflect my aloneness.
Leaded words with dissonant chording try, but fail
To stir thoughts of brighter days and warming evenings.
Dark thoughts, cachectic dreams attend me now.
Do not come this way: the path is unsure, and the end obscured.
The roof needs repair?
The steps brittly break and the animals snort their disdain.
Mothers hurry their kinder swiftly past the door.
In this late-March cold winds sink and lank rains linger.
Sore joints and crookt fingers lift but cannot reach.
Dark thoughts, cachectic dreams attend me now.
Do not come this way: the path is unsure, and the end obscured.
The tree killers have done their deed.
The cable lines are now safe to carry each and every thirty-minute fat show
With prospering inanities, but you can do better; if I may have a word—
Dark thoughts, cachectic dreams attend me now.
Do not come this way: the path is unsure, and the end obscured.

Dragons Need Slaying

Do you not see the day pass by?
Over the far hills, and what is more—
The stars and Moon now ruling,
Stole the sky made black; Ruin is in store.
Faraway glances promise change slow nears;
Saint Patrick rues cold the sordid green—
No religion lives to check nether impulses
And things worse than ever before are seen.
Everyone, everywhere, all about
Strives to complete their level best;
While dead heroes’ secrets wet the floor
Stout hearts fail and eschew any challenging test.
Half lies are retold by our complete fools
And the uncaring cast yet another pointless vote.
Sad, the oppressed embrace and brightly paint their chains;
Presidents for Life on all shores have us by the throat!
Who now dares deny the Emperor’s new cloak?
When will Truth return to freely warm our mise en scene?
Our better angels want to do their honest best.
While partiers don their 100-proof gaudy St. Paddy’s green.
Do you not know tomorrow will surely come?
The Sun will light house and yard, and think on what is more—
A fresh start presents to all to make Father proud.
Rise! Rise! Rise! Dragons need slaying here and upon the far shore!

Trick Or Treat!

So, there I was
Doing Personal Private Secret Stuff
Getting ready for Halloween
As if that wasn’t enough
When in walked the cat
With Terror, Grime, and Gloom
And deposited his latest kill
In the middle of my just-mopped front room

So, there I left
My Personal Private Secret Stuff
And grabbed said kitty
By his scrawny-necked scruff
To put him out
In the yonder backyard
Hoping the damage wasn’t permanent
And the floor tweren’t totally marred

So, there I went for the mop
But it wasn’t there
Hanging from its bent hook
Underneath the cobwebbed lonely back stair
BUT…UP… THERE,
Across a cold October 31 moon
Figures slashing, thrashing, and flashing
Putting this old heart into a frightened swoon:
Witches upon brooms, stick-handles, and mops
Crazy calico clad creatures
Some even missing their necessary cranial tops!

So, it’s Happy Halloween
With all that Suspenseful, Terror-ridden Scary Stuff—
Did you get the good kind of candy?
Do you really believe that you bought enough?
Cuz here come the witches
And the ghosties and some things quite deplorable
(Though we really know that inside
Are youngling-type folk who are most adorable).

But don’t you believe it’s all just a simple thrill,
Beware of your cat returning with a kill;
And should you meet at your door a Witchie missing her cranial-type top
Kindly request of her, when finished, to return me my mop

Trick Or Treat!

Creepin

Creepin creepin
Oughta be sleepin
Full moon burns the sky
All alone don’t know why
Free footin lookin at goodlookin
Goodlookin outta be sleepin
Stars in the sky they know why
Mayb someday I’ll givit a try
Sneakin sneakin
Black cat low peepin
de prey tarry too long
Cat jumps prey done gone
Kissin kissin
But love b missin
Clouds scurry on by
Vote for who wont evn try
Pourin pourin
Soon da poet b snorin
Full glass drain to dregs
No love for he who begs
And creepin

As It Will

Small people, little people
The Wind knows nothing of these
Big times, noble times
The Rains still fill the trees
Grand Love, Heartbreak
Discover your knees
One death, another last breath
Time passes as it will please

A month ends, a new week shines
No right answer calls
Newborn cries, an old lady sighs
A poor candle spits and stalls
Sun glows, Moon rises
Cold blusters thru the walls
A bell rings, the horde finds the access road
Time and midday traffic stalls

Little people, my people
Earthkind teeming all around
Mere races, many-coloured faces
Trying to keep above ground
Have Faith with Freedom to saith~
I disagree with what you propound
Singers spiel, Dancers reel
Look to what Music has found

Another death, one last breath
Time passes as it will please

Conjunction

The empty space, the lonely face
Turns away
A moon arises, the day ends
Turning away
Tried to help, got home safe
Turn around
Found the wine, lost a friend
Fall down
Tears won’t come, three score or more
Look up
Feed the cat, do the dishes
Look down
Fret a chord, augmented minor
Look all around
Gorka speaks for me, walk to pueriles
Stand your ground

Plethora

Aspiring to be someone’s boyfriend,
And I want to fly to the moon:
Neither has the ghost of any chance
Of occurring anytime soon.
Aspirations of someone now older
Are akin to those of a teen:
Both want to be and make someone happy,
The longing is still felt quite keen.
Do you want to take on a boyfriend
And fly to find the man in the moon?
Call or comment when you are able—
Yes, right now wouldn’t be too soon.
Together we’ll share a plethora of smiles
While counting the days and accruing the miles.

LIVE, at Tipitina’s

Why can’t I write like a sunny day?
Like a frosty day when the setting sun cries alone
Missing his Moon just over the horizon
But I do having something to say
I just can’t get it out just like Taylor does
And I found not every why has a because
And alone I bend over this laptop
Singing along with a 4 moptop
Band from Liverpoolland
I wanna radiate but I’m 500 miles apart
Why do I always sublet my own life’s part?