cykle.

cykle.

the four days-
the cold barren
the stark bare
the slumber huddle
survival; closed eyes;
the gentle warming
on western horizon
land unlocked under toe
slow awakening
dawning eyes
adjusting to the light
stretching out
up towards the sky
blooming;
hands palms wide
to warming glory
migration towards
the water,
the ocean
holding on
until the cooling
and leaves fallen,
loops on turn
we then return
to our station.

a scrap I wrote a while ago, I find them on various thumb drives, and I am surprised but what In find but then remember the vibe so… this is mine, all thoughts are welcome, I am a curious to find out the minds of others, it does not consume me, but it does have a sense of interest to see how I swim among my peers stuck in my same years of time…

in a simple mirror found…

in a simple mirror found…

the birdfeeder

wrought iron
ancient tower
in look
sold and bought
at a garden center
in years I might have forgot
some winters to fill you up
going bare barren
for an entire season
no good reason, just the passing
forgetting to refill the silo
forgetting t’was even there, at times
the nature of gravity and consumption
in the wind, swaying

a common winter night
not an occasion to stop-
so filled to the top
and spilt over
not a delicate affair
no, certainly not
like an old man in the park
shuffling hands in a paper bag, for company
more organized perhaps
but much the same rouse
much the same draw

and I can not control those who come
who find this rest stop
and sometimes a flurry
a gang of rooks, a jail break frenzy romp
rather than the gentle sweep and peck
the subtle moves of anxiety
the back and forth with caution
of those who might be prey
or at least garnish so
little ones bounce from limb to perch
or a big blue jay swoops in
also on the lurch

sometimes I wish-
to script upon the seed
with the breed
I wish to attract
oh, silly me
haven’t we all done
this very same act?
(in our own reality)

based on the real, just my bird feeder swinging on the tree outside my bedroom window and the implications there… life is a strange and wonderful thing. so…. what do you think ?

and for any noobs: (I promise to be gentle) I write in flash form, maybe my work is not perfect but it is a flash photo of what comes out of my mind and pen (ok, keyboard mostly)… so, just so you know how it works around here, this is all just me throwing my breath out there, so if you read all this, or any of this, thanks for your cherished time, I appreciate it.

the why (to ponder)

the why (to ponder)

drowning in thinking
perhaps tired of inking
these inklings
epithets to
dreams from
threats of
a new whirlwind
a cascade due
an avalanche down
doubts weighted by fear
the desperate climb out
claws from down under
pulling downward’sunder
but I mustn’t-
I mustn’t succumb
I must fight
for each breath
for that reach
for life
regardless
or… or…
what?

notes: unlike other animal life we question our existence, but when push comes to shove we do fight to survive, mostly… mostly… are we free from the same death panic ? I doubt it, I am not, mostly in daily life I am but I know I look to the stars and see light that is thousands or billions of years old, does someone see mine ?

purpose in words

purpose in words

prayer from a distance
does not carry on the air
nor land
or on the back of a feather
the ocean may rise
to engulf the poles
but not even a voice of thunder
can span the globe
in one full jump

but the voice of many
may be the boat of hope to sail
so, I pray, still.

there is hope, and hopelessness… and yes, none of this may matter in this matter, but you have a choice, I choose to live in the sun, as best I can (and I fail more than not, but my choice is not the reason for my failure, my humanity is, such as it is).

your thoughts and comments are always appreciated, my friends.

the N, the Z, you sea…

the N, the Z, you sea…

out upon the silky sea
a voyage be’ond discovery
for out in that unforgiving grave
a rock
an outcrop
once the roiling cauldron heap
to melt the earth herself
molten dreams roll conjured up
from the continental shelf herself
and here now cooled and tam’d these days
spared the steam ‘don cleared the haze

a seeking flock found peace and stayed
without a fang ‘r tooth long in sight
decided they were done with flight
for why bother with a pilot’s trial
on cliffs and yonder tuck’n’tail

notes… nah, I am not explaining this one… let it be mystery and fodder for imagination as this was a loose interpretation, of language and creation, on my part, in other news I finally reorganized my YouTube Channel a bit, so check it out if you please, and on Facebook I post things so, all that, if you like what I do, thank you, no, truly, I broadcast out my frequency and hope there are at least a few ears in tune, even if not, at least I am here to do it.. and that is truly enough, remember that.

the strangeness of inspiration, so muse

the strangeness of inspiration, so muse

time to put away the winter things
sleds in sheds
boots in darkness
closet corners full
less dress
car packed full
an adventure to take
under the summer sun

notes… went back in my time machine, well, not really, of course, I WOULD share that with you, if I could, of course… but I pulled up an old snippet from the year 2019 and it spoke to me, I guess, sub-consciously, and so this came about, of it, that union of my own old thought, and now, how things change, and will, always, move forward, so I should, I am trying… how hard, depends who you ask, who wants to be honest in all that, who wants to push, even if we know the cliff could be right there, I should get busy, have more urgency, but I wrap myself in the every day race and tail, reflecting on it does not move the needle, which I need to do before I am quite dead, literally.

the long wedding…

the long wedding…

Matrimony

so-
should I?
marry you
death-
now or then
why wait?
why the rush?
inevitable-
the perfect mate;
fate-
so let the courtship begin
and never end.
unless I should begin again;
reincarnation or resurrection-
so let the lantern be lit
so I may follow
into the path of light
.

a quick wink.

a quick wink.

descent;
soaking in the last breaths
of the smoky slumber sun
sets.

Notes… just a quick glance at the sky while driving home, even after some forty odd years on this globe I can still be amazed, the days are nearly never the same, sometimes the paint up there is just different, all just moments, snap shots, moving pictures, shorts really, all stitched together in the feature that is our life, so sometimes you have to sit back and watch the dailies to see how the whole project is going…