of the system
dinosaurs  at play

modify the system
dinosaurs at work

change the system
dinosaurs afraid

work the system
dinosaurs  delayed

ignore the system
dinosaurs confused

abused the system
dinosaurs confounded

abolish the system
dinosaurs extinct

create the system
dinosaurs  evolve

of the system
dinosaurs replayed

tonight the moon hides itself
shly peeking out
from behind ragamuffin  grey clouds

the stars are a'twinkle, twinkle
on indigo blankets
clouds dash to and fro

i gaze upon the heavens
and briefly wonder
if others elswhere also gaze

and ponder about the nature
of the sky
and the nighttime flying by

or do they sigh and
give no thought
to why the moon
                              is shy

Not a poem
as such
more a reminder
or indeed
a heads up
NapoWrimo begins
April 1

A challenge  of sorts
a month of  poetry
ideas, prompts, explorationof styles
a fuse waiting to be lit

you are the match

why not strike the fuse
and watch the fireworks fly.....

rhuematic rumblings of a restless mind
ramble across the page
been awhile, since the muse muttered
been some time since she sashayed
dry mouth, dry wit, words bitter and unkind
all tasting of salt and sadness

yet here i am mendicant me
standing at the wall,
wailing for all to see...

once written, once a writer
once a poet... wailing

for words to align
in a semblance of song
for words to joyful, courageous, strong

waiting for the world to be coloured
other than beige
for the seed to be fruit
for the herb to be sage

til then i rumble and quietly rage

Today I am
Jagged pieces of broken glass
Shattered by happenstance
Words meant in jest
Have pierced my marrow
and now I await
the world to turn again
witth tears  carressing
cheeks...

My pebble fractured
I must again wait the working
of the waters way
and become once again
Smaller in this place

This is the opposite turn
Of the waters wheel

This is the cracking
of the foundation

This is.......
                   reformation.....
                                              and
                                                      ..... reclaimation


of a damaged soul.

i sit and watch,
the dust motes dance
in the stream of sunlight

the computer hums and burbles
like and old friend, intent on
sharing the latest gossip

last years detrius of papers
and unfinished lists, new job lists
teeter in the corner....

my backside has again grown
a size too ample,
for my ergonomic  chair

my brain is lax and lazy
slow to grind into gear....

this is the awkward,
i don't want to be here
start to the years marathon

it is the organizing of details
the preparation of the course

it is meetings and more meetings
dull, dry, academic, with others who
are in the same boat, those who want to
change course midstream, those who want to
tread water and those who are new to the game
rowing in circles with much enthusiasm, but little boatcraft


i, at present am resting oars, knowing this is the first
of many races, knowing the course, tho set, will change
when the students arrive, it is then the rapids come into play
and it is then, my energy, is required.

til then i cruise
and drink copious amounts of caffiene
in my air conditioned office....
watching the air, take dust motes,
for a ride.

the curve of the beach
is outlined in a murky red today
the kelp has turned in the heat

on the sand the little *****
make little spheres and bubbles


where the damp meets dry
a sandcastle slowly loses form
as the wind takes it away
grain by grain


on the rocks three kids clamber
shouting and pointing poking sticks
into the pooled worlds

up on the grass, sit two old gents
and the clamour of seagulls that
are being fed skerricks of fat golden chips

i stand admist all this feet in the water
work pants rolled up, shirt tails out
breathing in the saltspray
looking to the horizon
as it begins to colour  the evening sky

at my feet swirl ribbons of red brown kelp


it has been an unseasonably hot summer