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am i ee Aug 2015
red moon,
deep & sacred
ancient,
giver of life.
  Aug 2015 am i ee
Tomas Denson
Sometimes i wish

and then

Wish i hadn't
am i ee Aug 2015
the bane of my existence
here
now
is
all of the incessant
noise.  

the city encroaches
ever outward,
gobbling up
the suburbs
like the great big
Blob

contributing
layer
after
layer
of noise.  

a new metro line
opened last year
disheartened
the morning

realized
it was the trains
i heard
as my puppy
and i
walked so early.  

trash trucks,
back up beeping noises,
leaf blowers,
mowers
and trimmers ...
all
conspiring
to drive me
mad.

the birds and owls,
snakes and deer,
hawks and rabbits
toads
and trees
and flowers,
puppies
all other creatures
divine,
tempering
this man-made chaos
this man-made
hell

keeping me hopeful
that
i
will
have some
respite
  

some respite
from this
hideous cacophony,
this man-made hell,
in the future,
not
too distant.

of course
there are
some benefits
from all
the city life

but i prefer
the silence
the solitude
of nature.


the Taoist recluses
who speak to me,
whose poems
paintings
writings
and silence
are balm
to my soul.  

some day soon,
i too
shall join
the recluses
far away
far far away
in the mountains.

but for now,
i am
only a modern day
taoist
recluse
stuck in suburbia,
doing my best,
living in this
noisy hell.
am i ee Aug 2015
Little cardinal builds her nest
     amidst the bush next
          to the house.

Eggs laid.
     Wait.

Two babies hatch.
     Bald,
          eyes closed tightly.

Day by day they grow,
     Cheeping to be fed.

Between one afternoon and the
     next morning, one
          disappears.

What happened to you
     little baby bird?

Where did you go?
     ebb and flow…
          life and death?…
  Aug 2015 am i ee
Storm Raven
Am I the only one who wonders,
what ants do all the time?
When they walk seemingly without a pattern,
do they know where they are going?
What do ants think of us, do we scare them,
or are we not importand enough to care about?
How do they communicate?
Can they be sad?
I keep thinking about the ants?
Do they ever think like this, about the flies? Or spiders, or butterflies?
Who will ever know...
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