The stream (all workshops)
The brook serenades
lullaby to a willow
to sooth its weeping
it's drooping branches in cheer
rustle a sigh of relief
All buds are bursting
the willow sweeps the grass
dew drops make rainbows
warm rain floats in the quiet air
seeking dry roots hiding there.
Pink cherry blossoms
and rosy red azaleas
blue birds sing, mating
winter has pass spring beyond
summer pollen takes my voice
Happy landing
off the spring board of spring
may be in Autumn or Winter
may marriage happiness
to you bring
see all is in money
had you any
you
wouldn't have waited
for spring
Autumn or Winter snow
and
now hope all well with you does go...
see all is about money....
only money teaches...
richness and poverty ....
ask all those who live
Below The Poverty Line
I note with a heavy
though happier heart
some do get a lovelier hearth
,money apart
I found the note you left for me
then walked outside to catch my breath
and struck a match to light this fraud
to watch it slowly burn to ash.
And as the ash blew in the wind
it carried off your frequent lies;
I shed a tear for innocence
of wasted beats of broken hearts.
And now, I wait, impatiently,
for your return and promises
praying that I will find the strength
to send you on your faithless way.
Having a link beyond others graves
Digit curtailed his killing ways
it would be easy to carry on later
an appointment with like friends
a beach party he had to attend
From Washington he caught a flight
Canoe Island lodge came into sight
In the middle of the moons last phase
Digit had some preparing to do
long pig was on the menu, not a stew.
the silken worse
on golden sheen
runs on milken
scene
pillage ghost
silence dust
frozen memories
what we were
the ounce of us
dirt
You inspired
and
used to boost
now you with your mind set
you feel we all are roasted
You give me the insight of a writer's mind
where blind men can see more
than those with eyes
and the brain prompts me to be reborn ,
yes reborn
don't frown
as I am on my last leg
though still fairly sound ,
you are a young one
not fifty yet
many sons you have to still beget
maybe of verse
I can bet
Raising Wrecks…
I hear they’ve found another wreck,
a warship from the deepest sea.
Wonder who will spring this cheque,
sure hope it’s not poor fools like me.
It costs a fortune to get them up,
more to keep them from disintegration.
They’ll soon be out with the begging cup,
saying their saving it for our nation.
Governments won’t look after their poor,
but they’ll throw money at such folly.
I don’t know what angers me more,
seeing people hungry or them on a jolly.
turquoise dusk
and its all
the many of miles
harsh bitter factory interior
gleaming like the clock
its clown sheen
shiny like the Glock
steady
and deadly
Drone pilots
the window dropped
a tint city reflection
rushing past the blocks
beneath the blazing change
of lights
four days slept in our clothes
chasing whats chasing
the chased
Lying on the sweet grass.
I gaze at the myriad stars of the summer night,
companions to the Mistress Moon
while a gentle wind caresses my skin in delight.
The silence greets me
with a sense of peace in my solitude
which has eluded my mind
when the strains of the city life intrudes.
Sighing to myself,
I close my eyes to embrace sleep,
enjoying a quiet moment
where I can be alone but not lonely....
did they say
in a forest somewhere in Vietnam,
loud voices yelling
Loved, loved ,
Loved you are not loved
so come out
I came and they shot many a round
all went around
no sound
nor bullets found
no round was found
nor was Loved around
the fired shots woke me
and so tis here
what you asked of me
but I am not to quote the word
you told me,
tis this, just composed it
how is it
the rounds appear to be
still flying!
Then I woke up and it was just a dream
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