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The stream (all workshops)

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A Time To Tell

pray tell the Winter slobber on its cold
delight yourself in Spring where freedom rings abode
for tomorrow is a splash of elegance waiting to be fashioned
Autumn has an errie way to display your inner passions

one by one we trek through the opened field taking time to yield
one by one though government our own chief aim & ploy
riding high in Autumn's spring with words to call
suffer the little children in parts unknown

Florence [Sunku]

her eyes
are whelming
with stormy surge

for contempt
loathed upon her

"my name means
beautiful girl"

As Desperate As We Are

Has any heart
been turned
completely to stone?
Green calls to us,
It is full of rebirth
and forgiveness.

Our ears can’t shut
out the sound
of clement
We can’t turn off
the heart’s
eager beat.

As we get buried
under tons and tons
of dirt,
something in our limbs
still surges
with the instinct,

the living desire,

to claw our way

As desperate
as we are,
as alive —

maybe we need
a little

I feel you too

I feel dry
nothing left to try
time to
don't ever be shy
ask me not why
let time fly by
the world will also
time to part comes too
for anyone including me and you
still I say and ask of you
How do you do


We'll do it another day
when i can spend some time with you.
Then we can visit or play
but I have things I must get to
which tie me up throughout tomorrow.

Then we turn from those we love
to stuff that requires time from us.
Some project's push has come to shove.
Some client is raising a fuss.
Perhaps I'll be free tomorrow.

In All Its Forms

one man outlasts
many seasons

one generation outlives
the past

we are steadily
inhabiting the future

transcending yesterday’s
structures with
science and math

but we must still
stop and look

at the paintings

in our grandfathers’

read the classics
take classes
on Irish and Chinese history

the White Rhino

visit the coast
before the waters rise

because water may endure
(in all its forms)
long after
this human mystery

"Lost Ages" (September Contest )

Now this thing about losing stuff
You know at my age it is not enough
You cannot be other than joking
Or of my age the micky you are poking

If only I could just find my way around
Need a map for this house and surrounds
Each day is a challenge to us old folks here
Where did I put it, as it just isn’t there?

Do you need a list, or shall I just mention a few
I hit my head on a beam, lost memory it seems
My glasses were on my head the other day
I searched to see where they had strayed.

Lost and Found

often I think about
getting off the train of thoughts
at times it's menacing
the sound of the roller coaster
speeding on parallel tracks
leaving a trail of absent thoughts
whirring behind in a flash
before I turn around
they are gone

I get off at the next stop
to cool my heels
but the siren of the engine
draws me in
on the same seat
that had me occupied

I realize I'd left behind
some worn out baggage
with stillborn poems

O for poetry that has to smite,
cite a history, bold and might,
invite decades that already passed,
dare then thou claim that words don't last,  those that ignite!
And poetry yet has the writ,
for tears to fall, and fears to drift,
for trees to burgeon and buds to bloom,
dare thou then claim the poet's doom, thou who hast wit!




Shimmering through the haze of heat
bent hyphens circle far away
as they mark their swollen treat.
I change course toward them today.

Two miles through this desiccated land
like a wall I hit the stench of battle
just as the vultures start to land
and death beetles begin to prattle.

Burnt machines of modern war
with different symbols on their side.
Is that all this fight was for?
Far above crows call and glide.


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