The stream (all workshops)
Sitting on my big ol' butt
pen in hand with wrinkled brow
feeling that I'm in a rut
I'll try to leave that furrow now
yet I have no idea how
Myriads of different forms
sonnets, Haiku, prose, free verse
too many beyond most folks' norms
( I don't want to write anything terse
or so long it makes people curse)
Mind whirling, stooped shoulders tense
hand cramping holding empty pen
too many lines, too little sense
one good idea and I'll begin
still, I come up blank again
my daddy is strong and kind
i think he knows me more than i thought
he wants me to be happy
so he learned how to dougie
and when he did it he got in trouble
mom discovered that he COULD dance
"after all these years you bastard..."
she was annoyed but happy
because her husband could dance
finally
hazel fields
a cast of view
the comfort
knew you
the paper covers
the cloth attachments
titles like parchment
slips glimmer on
light like signal
towers
I feel your voice within
my ear
and my chest
and above a jetliner
cuts the angel
I know the chapters
written your consuming
the flash of your wet
brilliant eye
filled with stars and
smoke
and hidden issue
burning
I wish for more yet
you my pretti are the
only oracle
In the morning,
the sky opens its boundaries.
Sea meets the air with its scent
and the air comes alive with fractal
patterns, breaks its own dark
sepia monotony.
The lotus was closed in the moonlight.
Tender green leaves leave
no passages to know what passed through.
There are twelve Eastern pillars of light,
shafts of sunrise
in spatial dreams of mountains
rising in the West in
Bodhidharma's footsteps. Canyons
echo with birdsong.
fluorescent blue skies
blink and shut eyes
to look down,
from smile to frown
once the dirt road
with kicked up pink dust
now concrete lust
a raped paradise
blink then shut eyes
cry crystal tears
For lost are the golden years.
Ho ‘ river of life
I dipped my toe ,
I remember,
Bubbling
churning
urgent
swirling delight,
Bubbles in French champagne,
It tickled
it seduced
it sang me to sleep
Running down my face like a veil of rainbows,
ever lapping waves,
mesmerizing
enchanting
forever without end,
this was life.
I bathed in its pure waters
ever young and gay
The years went by and day by day
Thinking youth is surely here to stay.
a house of snowflakes
under a saharan sun
bespeaks sanity
Come Beloved
as a strong wind
blow
through my life
seperate
the wheat from the chaff
Help me
to love them both
the good
the bad
the everything
for it has brought me
Here
brought me
back
to You
Aid me
in letting go
of all this
stuff
these things
these strings
and attachments
So there might be room
for nothing else
but Love
among these boxes
I tend to think in past and future.
My thoughts travel beyond the realm of this moment.
The superior moment is happening now.
The next moment is still in question, the past one is lost
My energy is wasted on what has happened and what will occur,
in the omnipotent future.
I can seize the now by living, loving and experience it,
without further thoughts of what was or will be.
Hey, Blackbird! Do you finally get the gist?
Are you ready to cut your wrist?
Or do you still think you're in control?
I'm sorry. But, it's too late to say you're missed.
Remember when we finally kissed?
Oh! How we thought we'd made the roll!
Let's face it. You'll forever be on my list.
I did enjoy our little tryst...
...."to continue" is what I wished, and missed.
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