Glass illusions forestry of butterflies in flight
swiveling and turning wing, aiming for sun
hovering over lulling waters of purple hues  
Breathing like flowers, frilling up the air
inside a cornucopia world of rich and bright
Birds are calling from afar symmetrical chirps
of grandeur, across the wide expanse
nocturnal illumination of the heart and soul
Varathane music sonatas, flute escapades  
within a dormant brook, nature's usurp
Fairies, trellises, and magic twigs interlinked
inside the Foloi forest, the mighty oak respires
aside centaurs and dryads, of their time
an emerald green, bottled by nature herself
all is transformed here even the sky is pinked  
Altered, Remodeled, Reworked, Transformed,
by my sweet, poetic imagination...
                           "Follow Me  "

The rain is pounding
Trees sounding, moaning, creeping
Quiet as a mouse, The house still sleeping
It’s dark outside, we’re in for a wild ride


Seven more days of straight rain
Super dog might go insane
Huddled under the covers
Snuggling together like lovers

A space heater is what we can afford
We buy wood by the cord
The fireplace consume bundles of wood
Much faster than it should
Dry wood will have that effect
Curing wood process, by neglect
I try to make it last when I could
Purchasing wood you never know
what you’re going to get,

The days of central heat are gone
There’s no valuables left to pawn
No need to heat the entire house
An elderly couple, spouse
Empty rooms frosty cold looms

Super dog jumped up to go outside.
I opened the door. The gushing water
invaded the floor

He’s not quite up to taking a trip
A  uncontrolled slip
Flash flood, water and mud
raining, rushing, rising
Weatherman advising

Listening for leaks In the roof ,
Will it hold, truth be told
This house may be old
But she’s got a long life left.

Light a fire to keep warm
We can weather this storm.
They say we might lose power
Touch and go by the hour
Lights softly flicker.

Check the circuit breaker
You’ll need a yellow slicker.
Keep a towel by the door
Another tree fell, who’s keeping score?

Several storms yet to appear
This is normal for this time of year
I am prepared ,safe and warm
From the storm, we are still here

A bird glides into the attic
The sound dramatic
Wrestling around amplified static
Through a broken vent, of wood
That noise, can’t be good
I need to close the vent, if I could
Pecking pecking on the floor ( ceiling),


The bird tries to hide inside
It’s sanctuary is denied
With a long broom handle
like a Roman candle
I pound on the Ceiling
I’m don’t have a comfortable feeling

Pecking, pecking louder on the floor
Super dog stands at attention on the bed
We look at each other, Not a word said
We both look up at the ceiling
He is beside himself, barely dealing

Super dog is shaking like a leaf
The bird is an emotional thief
Husband snoring ,super dog, not ignoring
the pecking, pecking on the ceiling

Agitated, distress, exploring
He sits between my legs, his eyes beg
For peace ,An emotional release
Pecking pecking once more
Super dog ,shaken to the core

I pound the ceiling with a roar
To scare the bird out the door
I desperately need the bird to leave
The bird stands still to deceive
This ritual continues until
The sound relieved

No more pecking on the ceiling
What a relief , a positive feeling
My brain still wheeling
I wonder what type of bird
I know that sounds absurd
It seemed rather large,
But I remained in charge
I do care, why did it go there?
A bird has no business
In my attic, house anywhere

Super dog sleeps quietly in peace
No more shaking, emotional release
All is right as rain
Order of tranquility sustained

The Same Table

We are all sitting
At the same table.
Some of us have more food,
                               more guns,
                               more oil,
                               more everything.
Some of us will laugh more,
                     will cry more,
                     will sigh more,
                     will feel more.
Some of us will die young,
                      will die old,
                      will die willingly,
                      will never live properly at all.
Some of us wear red,
                     wear blue,
                     wear black,
                     wear all the colours of the rainbow,
Some of us have light skin,
                     have dark skin,
                     have smooth skin
                     have scars criss-crossing our bodies,
But none of us
Sit high enough
          To look down
     On anyone.

sometimes you perceive things
as they
aren't

and some will look at the ground
and never have to look up

and some will stand in the sand,
and not be held by fingers twisted with fate,
gaze up at the stars
with wonder

some only look down
to watch their dreams fall
to the ground


and then there was

Cathy Brown

I wrote
"I love you"
on a napkin
got caught in the rain
on the way to her apartment
and when I gave it to her
and she unfolded it
there was a beautiful flower

I never told her I love you
never had too

the light in her eyes
the twinkle of stars...


I was watching an old movie
and the make up artist
was

Cathy Brown

while I dipped
my ******* in the holy water
of madness???
why not write a poem
I loved the name so

the touch from her fingers
kept me sane

some dreams never vanish...

do you believe this **** I wrote
sometimes I need
to not
get serious

I love you Cathy Brown.

Ba-doom,  Ba-doom,  Ba-doom-doom-doom

In my weary soul I hear the drums
That mark the cadence of expiring.
The beat is irresistible
And though my feet are torn and bloodied
I can not but take another steep.

Ba-doom,  Ba-doom,  Ba-doom-doom-doom

The road has been a rocky path
With danger just around the bends
And bandits in the roadside trees
Notching arrows to their bows.

Ba-doom,  Ba-doom,  Ba-doom-doom-doom

Another day, another hour.
How many minutes are left to me.
How many more steps must I take
Before the drum turn into violins
And I am free to join the Minuet.

Ba-doom,  Ba-doom,  Ba-doom-doom-doom
ljm

Now, alone, unbothered again
O mourn in morning dressed
What becomes of sincerity
Laid bare to us in nights
Do you wander as pilgrim
From hearts of men to dove
What agony bleats in breast
Of that little bird of woe
What agony bleats in breast
Of our little hearts of woe

**** this ****, so pretentious