My porch series, tonight’s entry (and after that  a bunch I forgot to post here, I think I posted them on Facebook, my bad… but just click on the porch series link to see them in order if you would like):

9/23/18 (porch series)

I thought it might be a clear night

but it is not

there are no stars

just a muddled shade of black mixed gray

the only light, artificial

from the light of my porch, behind me

usually under siege with moths

but not tonight, the fort is oddly quiet

the subtle chill is no longer on the breeze

as there is none this eve

the subtle chill has settled, into being, no need for a vehicle

time pushes the notch hand towards harvest

all the year’s resources spent

on a last bounty of the fall, before comes

as close as the world comes to death

the time as life bears down to hold

hold on, to dear life

wait out this coming cold reign.

and some will emerge, into the March

and others, will be lost, buried forever by the calming frost

swept under the sea of seasons

written into the ever revolving story,

maybe I should move back to a place

where the seasons are more

hot and blazing, less humid or raining

would I miss these reminders

these stage backdrops changing

the season’s play, performing, before me

brings both terror and inspiration

just cause to outlast the procession,

knowing one day the curtains will close (not just for intermission)

for all those, those who pay attention, or merely attendants

and, for me,

in which of these would I prefer to end?

as if I have some choice

but – if given a choice?

a blanket of snow, or the warm hand of august sun?

the miraculous burst of bloom or the flash of fire across autumn trees before the fall,

might I be a greedy soul

I wish for – all of these.

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7.31.2018 (porch series)

a july breeze, warm and inviting

darkly clouds wavering, breaking – heading north

framed in against the tones of the setting sun

reflecting onto their cousins

illusion drawn on a cloud pallet

as the minutes draw the light, dimmer

 

I try to perceive the breeze, as an image

as it casually weaves through the leaves

all the life, in this little window frame

this tiny capture of my eyes

this valley of my perception

all struggles to survive

the trees, the flowers,

the mosquitoes having at my legs

I understand

but our minds, our mind’s reason

we know, like seasons – there is an end

to what end – ?

I do not know

I inhale the breeze

I absorb the gasp of the sun

to inform me

to give me answers, for I have none.

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7.24.2018 (porch series)

the world is spinning, in complete control

clouds moving, sliding on, the lake the sky

while others seem still

but yet we are perpetual motion, unaware spinning

ever held, down, by gravity

this, our normality.

if I were to describe this to a stranger,

not of this place

they might think me mad, or just perhaps

of great imagination

a story teller for the ages

perhaps,

but these are our facts, we accept

we are born bound, by this, gravity

this force

feet firmly, on this ground

for so few of us, will ever know space

or anything that lies beyond.

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6.3.18 (this was really the first one I wrote.. I think…)

sitting on my porch alone

neighbors all around

bustling in and out

of noisy cars and busy homes

 

sitting on my porch alone

listening to birds they sing

in foreign languages

foreign tongues, to me

 

a rabbit pays me no mind

a robin retreats

the wind bends and sweeps

sliding waves of leaves, calm

 

I want to leave, and go back

correct the mistakes, of my past

 

I sit on my porch alone

there are people inside

I surely know

all around

out here,

all alone

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Did you really!? get this far ?  If so you have my sincere thanks.  I would ask you to follow me if you are so inclined and kind.  Comments are always appreciated and critique is coveted above all, insults are cool too, any input is great, I am just running this thing off the cuff, a nut and his laptop… set loose on the world.

Music?  well… I play guitar (not great) but I seek out those who do, and this cat? whoboy… he is just fire on the ocean imo…

Thomas Leeb – Quicksilver