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My Feathers Eye

My feathers
still flies
the mist
‘. ‘. ‘.
of crystal
sea blue

A sailors day
on horizons port
running rum
slicked masts
on lingered breaths
where sugared
lips once kissed.

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To the Cave, and Beyond

About three heartbeats ago,
from a geologic time view point,
we traced our steps to how the earth did grow,
gulping every story though some appear disjoint.
We adopted a meandering river flow,
as we moved from one, to the next joint.
Was the trip disappointing? No!
Like one sitting on a score board, it was on point.

Amazon dispossessed (climate change)

The loud tonk tonk of the bell bird
sounds like a hammer hitting an anvil,
today it feels like a warning klaxon
rather than the obnoxiously loud call
of a male calling for a mate.

Distracted she climbs down from her perch
paces the floor, cocks her head to listen,
The vibrating hum of cicadas normally so soothing,
Have brought goosebumps to her skin made
her hackles rise.

My first poem..

My first poem was written 1990. It was as I looked out my living room window at a polluted, rat infested stream. Above the stream Swallows in their remarkably erratic flight were catching insects. I found that to be ironic and rather stunning so I wrote about it in what I believed to be poetry. I never stopped writing after that. The poem was published in a local newspaper and I felt very lucky. It is a sort of seasonal poem.

Season's Will

Absence, and Longing to Belong

Longing to belong
Where I should never have went

I risk it all
for it to make no sense

Lonely, I am
And lonely I'll be

Cause where ever I go
I make no absence

No one misses me
and I do not belong

Travel, I do
and travel, I will

For me not to belong
It's a blessing

I need no one
and my life is full

Belonging is not a what
It's a fleeting feeling

Running through you
waiting to be discovered

Belong to yourself
And no one else

Summer of Ten... [August Contest]

Sweet iced tea
Served on the window ledge
The close warm air
Second floor breeze

My sisters asleep
The front window open
Me and mom hanging out
Looking at the stars
Of Main Street

Puerto-Rican chrome
White leather seats
"Hey baaaaby!"
"Ooooh, Mamacita!"

"Old Sailor" waltzing
The Drunkard's Strut
Bouncing off the drugstore window
Mom called the cops


A man sits alone on the beach
A solitary tear washes down his cheek
The party rages and the lights strobe
But in his soul he is alone

Zachary J Eakin - 7 - 13 - 19


You always will forever be my solar...sol brother...the heartest rap around...spirit constitution a revolution raging thru of Garveys mighty people...I always loved the Thunder and the furrowed brow clouds frozen on your forehead...

Frosty the Legend

A Stock Horse… High Country Bred
Dark Palomino with white patches on his body and head
solid well-muscled body and sturdy big boned legs
strong shoulders a massive muscled rear end

Sure, footed FROSTY would go anywhere
A gallop on the marshes through creeks and riverbeds
Up and down steep and rocky hills, through thick bush and scrub
Nothing would impede his progress he never gave up

He would carry heavy loads of Kangaroo and Deer
A friend to so many on the regular weekend hunt


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