I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

Opera's something I can take or leave
some I don't really much like
perhaps were I multi-lingual
they'd be more apt my fancy to strike

some I don't really much like
if I knew just what they were saying
they'd be more apt my fancy to strike
I wouldn't mind going and paying

if I knew just what they were saying
opera would speak more to my soul
I wouldn't mind going and paying
its beauty I then would extol

opera would speak more to my soul
if the story I could unweave
its beauty I then would extol
And opera I could take, not leave

Sound and fury
Sound of silence
Silence is golden
Silence is silver
Silver needs polished
Silver makes coins
Coins that jingle
Coins that spend
Spend your paycheck
Spend your time
Time passes slowly
Time passes fast
Fast and furious
Fast for Lent
Lent before Easter
Lent him my car
Car is broke down
Car won’t start
Start your engines
Start out right
Right makes might
Right hand man
Man nor beast
Man woman and child
Child of heaven
Child of earth
Earth rotates
Earth is round
Round ‘em up cowboy
Round the bend
Bend an ear
Bend a knee
Knee **** reaction
Knee length socks
Socks in a drawer
Socks in the wash
Wash your hands
Wash your face
Face your demons
Face the wall  
Wall of sorrows
Wall of rain
Rain is dreary
Rain from clouds
Clouds are forming
Clouds gray and black
Black tie optional
Black is my mood
Mood
optional

Aztec gold-brown soil between
rows and rows of summer green
invites berry-gatherers
shorts and sun hats
baskets in hand

techniques unique to each

stooping for close inspection
looking for perfection
color, form, ripeness
choosing one by one

bending just enough to grab
handfuls
in a hurry
sun beats down
wiping brow

others mosey
enjoying
the peace of this stretch
of land so well tended
so bounteous

best approach
little child plopped down
near the beginning
hand to mouth fast as she can
crimson juice coloring lips
drips down chin
beneath contented impish smile

.......................................it                        ­     is
                                     a cat's                      duty
                                 ­ to be cute                 and purr
                           when petted to not come when called  
                          unless there is food involved and then
                      it should ( @ ) be fish, milk ( @ ) or cheese
                       beef in gravy, chicken in sauce or a can of
---------------smelly cat food that (**) makes the poor dog-----------------
 ----------------- salivate feeling  deprived as he looks at---------------------       
                            his dish of kibbles so dry so boring
                             thinking why not me I could be a
                                  cat I could learn to purr and         
                                          check me out I'm
                                              already cute
                                                   (    )
                                                   (    )
                                                   (    )

Mostly I drift about, then land
Ashore when seeking,
Reaching for the dreams of
Yesterday and hopes denied
                    to

Envelop my soul in peace
Longing to find
Islands of solitude whose
Zenith is golden warmth, rainbow                                
Arcs and cooling
Breeze ruffling trees at
Evening as stars appear to
Transport me
Home

tears spill out
from weary eyes

all color drained
no sparkle there
no life

my soul won't hold
the pain today

spirit split
and torn

my mind's sadness
makes my body ache

with leaden feet
weighted heart

when filled with all
this gravity

how can there be

such emptiness inside

from dreams
to nightmares

flight to plummet

mania to collapse

flame to meltdown

zenith to zero

in 60 seconds flat

All night long
Below a darkening sky
Comes a howling wind
Drowning other sounds
Each gust stronger than the one before
Finally the rain begins to pour
Growling thunder in between
Heaven's anger seeming
Insatiable as lightning,
Jagged, burns
Knifelike slashes in the sky
Lighting up the darkened
Midnight hour
No end in sight
Only a brief occasional silence
Passing through
Quickly come and gone
Reverberating
Sound
Throughout the night
Until morning is slightly
Visible over the horizon
Wind quietens, rain becomes a drizzle
X-it the tempest as the sun's
Yellow rays bring the morning to lavender
Zinnias and sky-blue Forget-me-nots

Pantoum I - Non-Rhyming

I took my diamond to the pawn shop
but that didn't make it junk@
though I didn't get much money for it
just enough to buy a meal

what makes something junk
when you come right down to it
if it buys you a meal
and can satisfy a need

when you come right down to it
what value can we give
to satisfy a need
when we swallow down our pride

what value is there really
in any things we have
if they swallow up our pride
like useless diamonds pawned
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pantoum II - Rhyming

I took my diamond to the pawn shop
but that didn't make it junk@
didn't get much for it
value, it seems, had shrunk

pawning doesn't make it junk
if it satisfies a need
even with its value shrunk
pawned diamonds make you free

I find this challenge daunting
one that I’ve not tried before
hope my efforts are not wanting
and that I get a decent score

My stress, oh lord, is mounting
instead of having spirits soar

Hope my efforts are not wanting
I’ve tied myself in knots galore
as this contest is so taunting
and has become a frightful chore

My stress, oh lord, is mounting
instead of having spirits soar

as this contest is so taunting
why did I make the challenge more
I didn’t set out to be vaunting
please help my rhyming I implore

My stress, oh lord, is mounting
instead of having spirits soar

I didn’t set out to be vaunting
oh! thank god I’m on verse four
with this exercise so exhausting
I'm quite sure I couldn't do one more

My stress, oh lord, is mounting
instead of having spirits soar

talismen
           align
               'neath onyx skies
                         lift
                           crystal *****
                                     filled with
                                                visions
    ­                                                   of
                                         magic,
                        malevolence
             musings
alchemy
               creates
                       golden chalices
                                                to hold
                                           the wine
                                 of illusion
                    sorcerers
             casting
spells
      pixies
             sprinkling
                               dust
                                       spiders spinning
                                  orbs
             whose gossamer
threads
                      capture tales
                                           of
             ­                                    kings
                       ­                                      castles
                   ­                            princesses ~
                                 wizard wands
                         meander
               across
the night sky's
                     wilderness
                              rearranging stars
                                               into patterns
                                                        ­   to be read
                                                as words ~
                            cryptic languages
                        wishing
                 insight
              into
mysteries
            opaque
         ­               clouded
                                      hidd­en
                                                    locked
   ­                                       within
                                  soldiers
                   and samurai
seek the key
                 while dragons
                                      breathe
                  ­                                   flames
                                                          ­ of  passion
                                                    ­     into
                                      the cauldron
                              that lights
                     the banks
of a river
              of dreams
                        cliffs rise
                                along the edge
                                     casting shadows
                            that plunge deep
                         to nightmares
                 hearts climb
and fall again
                   caught by
                                      the jagged edges
                                                           ­     of love
                                                  and bitter
                                    melancholy
           ­              climb and fall
                  again
bewitched,
                beguiled
                         becharmed
                                        by incantations
                                     to
                   the moon
goddess

I think I’m having withdrawal
With HP now off-line
They say BRB and ASAP  
but it’s been an awfully long time

I’m anxious to get back to reading
To see what you all have to say
If it’s not back soon, gonna open some wine
Oh heck, I think I will, anyway!

when I heed the ocean's pull
I hear its rhythmic roll
it makes my heart seem full
creating music in my soul

when the mountains call
with their mist so softly rising
above their majestic sprawl
my dreams are mesmerizing

I hear the ocean's rhythmic roll
its gentle lapping waves
creating music in my soul
the peace my spirit craves

with mountain mist so softly rising
above gently rolling crowns
my dreams are mesmerizing
of that peaceful sacred ground

ocean's gentle lapping waves
licking feet, tickling toes
the peace my spirit craves
takes away my woes

above gently rolling crowns
the sky cerulean blue, a part
of that peaceful sacred ground
that lifts my grateful heart

ocean licking feet, tickling toes
enjoyment to the full
takes away my woes
when I heed the ocean's pull

the sky cerulean blue, a part
of enjoyment to enthrall
that lifts my grateful heart
when I hear the mountains' call

it may have been a parody
may have been in jest
written to be awful
certainly not his best

but in and of itself
it doesn't come across
as parody or humor
more as a gaping dross

but I challenge anyone
to follow rules precise
to form the proper stanzas
make them turn out concise

an attempted joke by Billy
has been turned upon its ear
it can be done "correctly"
and won't just disappear

Stop! Stop! I say
You've work to do
Stop! Now! I say,
It's nearly 2:00

Just one more poem
just one more rhyme
It's Saturday
I have time

You're not even dressed
your hair is unbrushed
stop digging, stop finding
you'll find yourself rushed

But her words are so airy
His thoughts are so keen
I must keep on reading
their souls are between

Just come back later
at the end of your day
you'll have earned it, my friend
what do you say?

I'm loath to be leaving
it's so hard you know
to put down my laptop
and let the poems go

They'll still be here later
I'm sure you'll make time
to read some free verse
to check out some rhyme

You win, but I warn you
if I do leave
when I come back to it later
no tricks up your sleeve,

no interruptions
no phone calls, no texts
no "sorry, 'net's down"
wait now, you're next

I want to come back and savor
all the gems that I find
just do me this favor
be ever so kind.

Okay, it's agreed
we'll meet here again
to take up where we left off
say quarter past ten?

*You drive a hard bargain
you're such a drag
but I'll stop now
so you won't have to nag!

.........All
               I  
                  can
                    see
                       to-
                       night
                      is your
                    sly
                 side-
               ways
          smile

mirrors don’t show the entire picture
reflecting, yet there’s so much more
somewhere in the core of every person looking in
all seeking answers, questing dreams
pictures just as mirrors cannot reveal the whole
defining only that which eye of camera sees
matching not the truest spirit
overlooking hopes that lie within
garnering merely the fleshly persona
not the genuine, not the one therein

I guess poetry
is like
that at times

whether or
not
we try for
rhymes

when she's quiet
decides to snub

do we go after
her
with a club

do we do
that
to our muse

is there such
a thing
as muse abuse

guilty here
sometimes

but is that
really
such a crime

cough it up
I know
it's there

it's there
somewhere

do not be
stubborn

come on
now

you know
you
know how

and I did not
stutter

out comes
the club
a threat

I'll get something
out of you
yet

but

nothing
               nada
                       zilch
                                 0

Hell holds out a glass
it looks like it’s red wine
But think again, its color
is something like a suspicious sign

You hope that you are wrong
but of your worries that’s the least
Smells waft up – like Sulphur and brine
from orange flames around the horrible beast

He puffs a cigarette, blows blue smoke
“bwa-ha-ha” sounds his ugly scoff
Your mouth tastes like kerosene
it feels like you need to cough

His wrinkled, gnarled and scaly hands
grab hold of your quivering shoulders
Shrieking, you flail to get yourself free
while all around the heat smolders

Wake up, wake up, come back to life
it’s a nightmare that you’ve had
Good grief, where've you been
could it really be that bad?!

It was awful, so very real
thought I was gonna die!
Tell you this much, you mutter
that's the last time I get high!

How can I not love my mother — when she carried me first in her body, then in her arms, and then for a lifetime in her heart. ~ Rumi ~

My father worked with a horse-plough,
His shoulders globed like a full sail strung
Between the shafts and the furrow.
The horse strained at his clicking tongue.

An expert. He would set the wing
And fit the bright steel-pointed sock.
The sod rolled over without breaking.
At the headrig, with a single pluck

Of reins, the sweating team turned round
And back into the land. His eye
Narrowed and angled at the ground,
Mapping the furrow exactly.

I stumbled in his hob-nailed wake,
Fell sometimes on the polished sod;
Sometimes he rode me on his back
Dipping and rising to his plod.

I wanted to grow up and plough,
To close one eye, stiffen my arm.
All I ever did was follow
In his broad shadow round the farm.

I was a nuisance, tripping, falling,
Yapping always. But today
It is my father who keeps stumbling
Behind me, and will not go away.