If I was given a day
Or whatever force there may be
It would be with you
In an empty room
and you would speak to me
I would ask no questions
Utter no words
Invisible buttons would be connecting my lips
You would speak of it all
What makes you laugh
Why you're so shy
your weak spots
If you're selfish
what side of the bed you like
hot or cold
sweet or sour
Marvel or DC
I would watch
touseling of thick hair
My heart would grow immensely
Secret. Hobby. Weakness. Preference.
watching your lips move
and your face morph
With every emotion
my heart would reach to you in sorrows
and leap at triumphs
Butterflies would become a typical occurrence
a smile tattooed on my face
that's all I desire
voluntarily trapped in a room
shedding our skin
in no way is that strange
In fact it's beautiful
I adore women
I refuse to apologize for it
I like the way their voices squeak in the upper registers
I like the fashions
I like the makeup
I like the aromas
Not the silly runway catwalk biz that reduces them to awkward mannequins
adorns them in the impractical
and cloaks them in the absurd overreaching of the tired clamoring for something
new and unique
that which exploits their lithesome anorexic perplexing job requirement
I like the way they can shape shift, alter and assume new identities
I like the fact that some have mood swings and PMS
I marvel that they can give birth
I like being aware that their "water-weight" make's them grumpy
I'm astonished that they innately ovulate with the cycles of the moon
and that the Huntress Diana inherently acquired her namesake
Doesn't bother me a bit that "it's a lady's prerogative to be late"
or that opening a door for them is considered 'sexist'
I was raised with a sister and a mother
with lace and dainty frilly things
I caused them a lot of aggravation and consternation
I think they enjoyed it - nonetheless
I refuse to apologize for it
There is a special kind of magic
To the marvel of the skies.
In the gentle kiss of Autumn,
In a newborn babies sighs.
There is a fleeting wisp of wonder
In the song the skylark sings,
In the cloudless evening thunder,
And a million other things.
There is a special kind of beauty
To the madness of the night.
And a flame that burns far brighter
Than the evening's silver light.
There is a wonder most uncommon
In the touch of early spring,
A beauty e'er unassuming,
Of which the stars still sing.
Copyright © 2012 Richard D. Remler
"The few wonders of the world only exist
while there are those with the sight
to see them."
-Charles de Lint
At twilight in the cave the bats gracefully emerge; sacrificing their lives to fly and play in the wind. Sweeping in diagonally perched on wooden posts the owls watch and wait for their prey. I marvel at gods game and sit in silence. karma pulls up and pulls out her self-division at the scene. I am magnetically drawn towards a single owl poised on a tree. I whisper to the creature, speak to me. The owl sings: puchu puchu! I sing back the crazy tune. The owl spots my red jacket nestled on my body and teaches me the blues. I come back a rainbow grounded on the green encased in a purple hue.
My name is bill, no capitalization, required,
the Writer will be ill, soon, once he gets me,
or my friends in the mail, my cousin e bill.
Won’t be far behind, a marvel of technology!
I am famed and legendary, but be wary,
we attack in groups and bunches and
don’t rely on hunches that you settled with us.
We don’t make a fuss or a muss, we will cut
off your cable, and internet, see?
Hydro and Natural Gas you can ill afford
to miss, we do pay dates, instead of play dates.
So if you don’t pay up we are through
with you, hope you can find your self in
the dark, call us and we will talk until your
cell phone loses power or they drop your
call from their towering collection.
So with affection,
from us named bill,
make a plan and a will,
to pay us on time, after
all it is your dime, until it
is ours, all ours.
You can take that to the bank,
but we will do it for you too!
Save you the trip...
P.S.(we were going to list a few,
but we don’t name names, we
just collect Presidents and Prime Ministers,
they may be dead or royalty, but they are
acceptable to faceless nameless ones,called
Copyright Apr2013 DWE
We flourish in a flurry
Of stellar staccatos.
Crescendo of chemicals
Marvel at moonlight
Dance of dust
Men cannot march together in unison
for prolonged periods of time,
without the insistence of sound.
There is an individual cadence we conceal in our cells
which must be silenced
by a hypnotic pattern.
One, two three fo-wer,
Yuh, three your four
Yuh one and your two and your three your four.
It is a passionate howl in the distance.
Accompanied by living drums,
fashioned out of flesh and rubber and the earth.
The first time you hear it
it reverberates on your senses like an immaculate illusion.
The cadence being cried
in the foggy florescent light.
Over the barking and posturing of the rdc's
As they herd you in an unorganized mob.
It pierces the apprehension you brought with you
And a seed of determination is planted.
Your one two,
two your three your four,
Your one and your two and three your four.
Something greater than the self speaks,
a desire to contribute to such harmony develops.
It is the chromosome of the cadence singing,
from within all but the most damaged ones.
Your one two three fo-wer
three your four,
Your one and your two your three your four.
And when you finally become part of a column of sound
off of other competing columns,
On a simple morning march to the messhall
You can feel a power beyond words and symbols.
And your inner musical score skips a measure
To marvel at a music,
That is cruder, and blinder,
than any music that one individual can create.
Why do I give so much of my power away when its my beauty that makes life stay
I do myself in, again and again
But is it possible that I've had some sort of help
holding in this type
form of a yelp
I think immaturity is casting your eyes from
the immature side to you
sometimes it feels to be hurt
sometimes it feels to be foolish
to break your own heart
sometimes it feels to be jelous
Sometimes it hurts to be you
because not everyone can see
for all that you have been and feel enternally
not just anyone, if anyone
can crawl into your crawl space
and some dont know marvel at what they find
some kind of different precious jewel
envy is just a curious lense over your beautiful eyes
and does it hurt
to know that this too is part
not of you
but the world for which you were created to play
created to grow
and to delay
you arent yourself darling, you arent yourself darling
and thats okay
because I find you so so so beautiful
and even with those devious sinful
crying, holding behind
there is a beauty that justifies
being a human is acting a foolish runt
but dont despise
no dont despair
its just a rut
from which you were taken
with worldly hands
and cast upon the shadows of the worldly lands
from your home
on those sweeping hillsides
in the tender of a vulnerable, sweet, sweet heart
like sweet cherry juice licked from the palm of a tender loving hand
to which you've always belonged
always felt at ease
at being at home
you know not of displeasure
yes, being alone
isnt it nice to know what you're not from what you are?
from those feelings that parade their lies
up and down
your comely spine
this fortune reveals your ownly demise
being. so. beautiful.
Wake up, Sleepy Head!
For the night is through.
Look around! Adventure’s
Been waiting for you!
There are mysteries to solve,
And treasure’s to find.
Oh, we can seek out a secret
Of the most secret kind!
Perhaps we will find
A Safari at noon,
Or watch a new cow
Jump over the moon!
Or travel through time
In an old Wishing Well,
And put a new crack
In the Liberty Bell!
Wake up, Sleepy Head!
Shake off the new dawn.
The morning is here,
And the night is long gone.
We have Adventures ahead,
A creative cache!
And we’ve so much to do,
And time is ticking away!
Maybe we’ll climb
That one Tree among tree’s,
Or find a new word
In our A’s, B’s, and C’s.
Or swim through the Amazon
Without stopping for air!
Oh, you wouldn’t believe
All the fun we’ll have there!
We might sail the Atlantic
In an old Clipper Ship,
Or search out and capture
A live FiggleSnip!
Or a Tozzle-Moffed Took
And a Green Pflittlefulfly.
Oh, the things we can do
If only we give them a try.
Maybe we’ll build a Great Wall
That will stretch on and on
From the halls of Reflection
To the Gulf of Oman?
Or Lasso the North Star
And climb the Great Mount McVee.
Oh, all the things we will see,
Most people never see!
We’ve that enigma to solve!
To seek out and explore!
Far, far too much excitement
To be standing still for!
So wake up, Sleepy Head.
Nod your slumbering eyes.
We’re heading into a quest
Filled with wonder and surprise.
There is simply no limit
To the things you can do
When such adventure and marvel
Are waiting for you!
Copyright © 2010 Richard D. Remler
“Remember what Bilbo used to say:
‘It’s a dangerous business, Frodo,
going out your door. You step onto
the road, and if you don’t keep your
feet, there’s no knowing where you
might be swept off to.”
why don't you carve
the pain out of me
like I'm an ancient fossil;
hold my insecurities to
light, under a
and marvel at the self destructing
biting on her own toes
or eating her brain..
and you can't even remove it