Birds gossip in the arms of the red maple.
Rays of the Milky Way's brightest star, warms
the back of the copper-eared, old hound.
He sits on the single patch of grass persevering
in dry soil of a rainless spring. Abandoned yard.
The hound sits against a backdrop of neatly
stacked bricks, indicating an air pump of
life breathing on the hounds unfulfilled oasis.
Rogue saplings lay vanquished- roots up,
bundled in preparation for weekly collection.
Uninvited soil-guests spot the yard with a
deluding shade of jealousy green like the
luscious grass over the hedge- deceit
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 1:21 PM UTC
Question the assumed.
Push open the box.
***** lift to the sky,
release of stale air.
New perspective. Fresh.
Reborn, renewed, alive.
The sun after heavy rains.
The final melt in spring.
Human space heater.
Full of warmth, IF
you connect. Press
against your coils.
You labyrinth, I wander.
Meandering the paths,
hoping to reach the centre.
To discover your padlock.
Find the key that fits.
Unlock the matching lock.
Forever bound by the
way in which we fit.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 8:30 AM UTC
Hiding from your eyes,
white rimmed microscopes
into my mind. Cranium,
musings. Searching for
that which you hope to
find. Searching for the
flicker of a flame
that was never lit.
Grasping for a flicker
that was drowned
by the heat of the flame,
that you so wish
would blow out
like the 10 candles
on the cake my sister
insisted on extinguishing
for me. You search and
hope to uncover a flame
that never felt oxygen.
Perseverance; I admire.
However, I am
saddened for the detective
who can't uncover the
mystery that keeps
him up past the stars;
Unavailable.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 4:12 PM UTC
The intricate box you build
you construct with plastic bricks
sifting through compartments, searching
for the perfect fit. Perfectly enclosed.
Closed off.
Deconstruct your day, lost within
the pieces snapped together, ironically
like twigs snapping in two upon
the trail you wander your life
alone.
A man, a dog, and an endless
digital trail of artificial connection.
Seeking to take in what strengthens,
avoiding exposure like kryptonite.
The dream.
Interrupted, REM ceased. Found her.
Foundation mixed of messages, dried.
Upon which to stand. He on 1st,
Her on 3rd, poised to run. Pitch.
A triple. A review. He cheated.
Crushed.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 11:20 AM UTC
The city bus jostles down the street
On every other seat a *** rests
As I glance around I see shoes
Instead of bare feet.
As I glance around I see pants
Instead of shorts.
When I look down
I see my gladiators, fuchsia accented
When I look down
I see my ten piggies with coral paint
I ascend up to my loosely pleated
Polka-dotted, monochrome smock
Sliced in half by the strap of my
simple, salmon, cross-body satchel
Sitting ever so obediently at my hip
I reach to eliminate a treacherous itch
Feeling my perfectly formed pleat
A pleat adorned with a moss rose
Itching without disturbing a pleat
Is always a tricky task to undertake
I find myself asking if it's in my head
If it's floating through my mind
like the smoke of the mind altering substance
That floats through my brain
I glance around the stopped bus
No one is moving, we are stopped.
So why am I still jostling in my seat
Like the bus is jostling down the street?
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
Can't see you
Can't call you
Can't hug you
But I can feel you
In my triumphs
I feel you
In my disappointments
I feel you
In the sunshine
I feel you
So how, I wonder
Can you be gone?
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
Forbidden touch,
Burns the skin
And schemes to
Pull the mind
Into a reality
Made of falsities
And feelings
Of lust.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
*Fifth day of the fifth month,
in a year ending in an unlucky number.*
The sky doesn't say Canadian May;
with it's unpredictable rain showers.
That laugh in the face of the springtime
rhyme we can't seem to let go of.
Instead, the sky says June or July with
the sparkling charisma of a stream in summertime.
The light breeze moves through the leafless
maple trees as seamlessly as a saw
cuts through the 2x4s made of it's sisters.
This day says life, not death.
But yet as my car tears down the highway
death is in the air; reminding the world
of its immediacy like the flattened beetle
on my windshield, glowing extraterrestrial green.
*The phone rings, and for a moment
the world stops.*
"She's gone"
Gone into the sky, and beyond. With nothing,
but my scream following.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 9:02 AM UTC
Can't see you
Can't call you
Can't hug you
But I can feel you
In my triumphs
I feel you
In my disappointments
I feel you
In the sunshine
I feel you
So how, I wonder
Can you be gone?
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 8:08 AM UTC
Thousands leave, few return
Soldiers die and cities burn
Widows wept, children cried
thinking of those who died
Many years of endless death
Dodging bullets, holding breath
yellow clouds floating through the skies
Burning lungs, throats, and eyes
Shrapnel fell down like rain
Breaking helmets, causing pain
Gas, planes, tanks and guns
Killing brothers, fathers, sons
Those who return are Veterans great
Those who died had a different fate
Those who don't return are our honoured dead
They take this honour to their final bed
Their names are placed on walls and stone
To show those they left are not alone
Every year we remember those who died
Who gave their lives, their souls, their hide
We wear upon our chests, flowers of red
To show respect to those who are dead
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC