Every dog I know
is honest too the core.

They work harder at pleasing
their humans than we do caring for them.

They love deeper
and show it with their beautiful soulful eyes.

And when peering over the edge of the bed,
they laugh at us having ***.

They fish for hugs and kisses,
and are patient beyond endurance.

They jump and leap,
and race for the door to take us on our walks.

They beg for treats,
do some tricks and beg for more.

They wash our faces,
and wag their tails to tell us how they love us.

There is nothing better than a canine friend.
to make our lives worthwhile.

Flighted wings spread wide,
Snapping on the downstroke,
Moving air, giving lift.

Scouring the land below,
Hunting hidden prey beneath,
Unaware it is being sought.

Heart pounding hard,
Rushing dive,
Crushing blow.

And so life cycles,
Eat or be eaten,
Live or die.

Thinking deeply after dark,
Wondering when I will hear the owl
Call quietly into the night.

Cold winter's grip holds so tight.
Snow showers down from arctic breeze.
And chills the soul among the trees.

Silence reigns here in the deep,
Hours pass without a sound
To give away the life force here.

Then achingly soulful, deep and round,
The howling of the wolves from far north,
Waft down this lonely valley wall.

Peace of night shattered now,
Nature's children give voice,
To lonely coldness of this frozen land.

**** paperwork,
Makes my brain hurt.

I do the work.
I assess and eval.

I take the vitals.
I provide care.
I ask the questions.
Implement the orders.

I give support.
And what does it matter?

It doesn't.

According to the powers that be.
My paperwork isn't up to *****.

The patients don't matter,
didn't you know.
They don't need those
meds that help them think,
help them cope.
They don't deserve a hug.
They don't deserve attention.

If they miss their appointment
they need not have another.
They blew their chance.

All they want is a magic pill.
News for you, they know there is no such thing.
Would they live the hell they live day to day,
If there was such a thing?

Instead of tolerance and caring for our fellow humans.
Let's put first our stacks of paper and red tape.

Instead of lifting our fellow humans up,
Let's watch them struggle and then turn an uncaring eye.

I don't understand where or when it became so important
to write, instead of to do, or to give, or to care.

Where was I when the memo went out?
Just write it down, let them deal on their own.

Regardless of the fact, that it's within our scope,
To teach, to listen, to care, to support.

Decisions made, past deeds done,
diseases and habits, magnifying human weaknesses.

Make these people no worse than anyone of us,
Only in greater need.

And while watching their struggles, more than once,
I say to myself, "There but for the grace of God, go I."

sleep.
my gentle friend.
leaves me
bereft
when you are away.

missing
the serenity,
the warmth and comfort
the peace
of being folded
in your arms.

Wisty and Schmoo got into a fight,
They gave the warden quite a fright.

Wisty was shoveling with her spoon,
While Schmoo was providing a view of the moon.

Schmoo moved to the left
Leaving Wisty quite bereft,

Of cover in this circumstance.
Leaving the warden looking askance.

Imagine how quick he turned,
When seeing his sentencing about to be spurned.

Schmoo and Wisty started down the tunnel,
Poured themselves through as though through a funnel.

For years they had been hatching a plan,
To escape this jail, get away from the man.

And, now was their chance to find out who,
Could run the fastest, Wisty or Schmoo.

Through the tunnel underground,
Up through the soil, their feet did pound.

Waving to the warden they just knew,
They would escape any second, but for the pile of poo.

Slipped em, tripped em, made them fall,
All the warden could do was call.

Called for the hose, called for the nurse,
threatened them next time with a hearse.

And so ends Wisty and Schmoo's Great Escape.
Nothing more than a muddy scrape.

Wontons.

Wanting wontons.

Wantonly wanting wontons.

Wantonly wanting.

Wantonly.

Winging ponderously through the grey tortured sky,
A crane makes its way to its homeland.
Lightening blazes illuminating with weird yellowness
Torrents of storm rain plunging earthward.
There, sighted below, a car trundling through the downpour
Yet another traveler homeward bound.

I've been trying to be good.
Doing what I should.

Assessing the patients,
Listening to the cadence.

Typing up the charts,
Listening to the hearts.

Filing up the papers,
Avoiding potential capers.

Not running my mouth,
Or fleeing to the south.

And yet, here I am again,
Called in, actions to defend.

Don't they know,
It's how I run my show.

Patients always come first,
I'd just as soon the paper be cursed.

But, there's the crux,
Bottomline money always sux.

Now, for daring to care,
My sins I must bare.

Will I be fired, retired,
Or just jaded to the point of uninspired.

** Possible followup, pending results, of meeting with boss.

Sitting quietly in my room,
blankets up to my nose.
I look out the moonlit window
the shadows curling my toes.

Scratching softly against the panes,
a little imp, awaiting his time.
Seizing a moment to call his own.
Causing fright is his fell crime.

Stealing away my peace of mind,
dancing gleefully at my fear.
Chuckling softly, at his impish feats,
Spreading about his dastardly cheer.

All alone huddled in my bed,
clutching my flashlight close to me.
Eyes squinched tight shut
Ears perked listening, legs ready to flee.

Hearing him creeping, slinking,
Lurking, scratching, and giving a chuffle.
Frightened to look and unable to not,
caught by the light, he gives a wicked snuffle.

I give forth a shriek in fright,
and hide beneath my blankets.
Then that wretched imp, grinning with delight,
races onward, escaping, capering, mouth agaping

Lost in its awful glee, looking for more tiny tots.
Hoping to set their screams free.

Lightening crashing, thunder blazing.
Skies ripped open by electrical magic.
Energizing the air,
energizing our bodies.

Wind slapping past my face,
Adrenaline surging through my body.
Nerves tense as wires,
Waiting to be strummed.

Expectant silence before the next storm surge.
Waiting...
Waiting.....
Waiting........
Light flashing
Sound crashing.

Reaching,
Searching for you.
Excitement and energy.
Nature
Seizing us
in her grip.
Bringing us crashing together.
Time after time.

Until the winds die down,
The thunder rolls away,
Our bodies sated,
Lie nestled together,
in sweet oblivion.

Bonds.
Invisible energy.
Tenous and strong,
Attraction,
Pulling closer,
Holding near.
Atoms.  People.  Solar systems.
The most basic ethereal glue.
Holding life as we know it together.
Electrons orbiting their core.
Planets revolving around their Stars.
Heart strings binding one to another.
Powerful energy contained.
Until bonds are broken.
Causing bursting constellations to flame.
Division, Fission.
Extinction without bonds.

Bacterial
Viral
Misery.

Capturing
My
Soul and Spirit.

Bringing me down.
Down to the ground.

Invisible terror
wreaking havoc
on my body.

Spreading doom
and gloom.

So miserable
I wish I could die.
So unfortunate
as to be unable to.

Oh, the pressure,
the pounding,
the drainage,
the floundering.

Will it not go away,
So I may see yet another day,
Where the sun will shine
And I can feel fine.

I truly hate being
this Germ's
*****.

Hippos in crates
On rollerskates
Crashing through
the rickety gates.

Crashing and bashing.
Oooooooooooh, how Smashing!
Rolling about
Their teeth a-flashing!

Running amuck!
Watch out for the duck.
Open the doors!
Back up the truck!

Zipping up the ramp
Like any old champ.
There they go!
Don't forget the stamp.

Crates in the mail!
Delivered without fail.
Those Hippos on skates
Lurching down the trail.

Ancient wise and fearsome, Dragons grab the mind.
Rend the soul. Open your eyes to the delights of gold.*


Reaching forth with one glistening claw,
scraping the earth in a foot deep furrow,
It opens an eye to gaze upon the foolish
who seek its treasure.
And seeing before it a young boy,
gazing in awe, total amazement,
smirks in silent humor.

Puffing out a wisp of smoke,
enamoring the boy even further,
it slowly stretches wide its winges,
making shelter from the icy weather,
for this fearless child of Man.

The gold tinted, rustling scales,
shake the child from his reverie,
and gazing into the creatures eye
He asks in a timid shaky voice,
Mighty one, can you spare a coin?

Staring sharply, at this young sapling of a boy,
daring to request such a heavy toll,
from one such as he.  
The Ancient One, with eye whirling,
reaches under his massive belly and extracts a pence.

And to the boy, breathes "for a price childe, you may have such as this"
The emaciated filthy boy, looks hopefully up at the dragon,
wondering what a price would be for this pence.
And, yet knows that he has no choice but to pay.

For at home, his family suffers terribly from the poverty
brought on by invading tribes from the farlands.
Food taken, cattle slaughtered, family treasures destroyed.
Like so many others, suffering under this retribution,
desparate for the basic neccesities of life.

And from this suffering, born in this young boy,
Courage enough to approach the Ancient One for assistance.
And, so he steps forward, shaking, and bowing his head, asks,
"What price do you require, Ancient One?"

Rumbling deeply in its chest, the dragon considers,
this lowly life form, its obvious need and desparation,
commands, "Return tomorrow, with a robin's egg
and you shall have this pence."
And, closing its eyes, lowering its wings, became still as stone.

And so, hope sprung forth in the young lad's heart,
as he raced to share the news with his family.
That such a treasure should be within his grasp for such a simple request.
And, so begins the story of mentor and student.
With hope for a better future for family and friend.

In the depths of night, long past midnight,
when shadows come out to play.

Spirits moan about the loss of their corporeal bodies,
sounding lost and hollow in their deprivation.

Nightmares with their heaving flanks,
ebony coats glistening, spread their dark visions.

And I, unable to find peace in the arms of sweet sleep,
lie with eyes open,
watching the haunted dance of shadows at the window.

With a flourish of my pen I set fire to the paper.
Enlivening it like a god creating a caper.

Words flow like wine from my synapses,
Form images in mind's eye without lapses.

Saturn may rotate like a ring on a string.
Far be it from me to question fair Jupiter's ring.

Expansive words conveying vast universes.
Ideas, concepts, phrases, and curses.

The whales they must sing, the birds they will cry,
My voice from within is written with pen as I am so shy.

Watching the colors go round, and round.
The bright yellow towels making a halo,
in the dryer window, time trudging slowly.

Facing west, watching the sun set,
Washers and dryers humming in my ears,
Always feeling awkward sitting here alone.

Waiting for the buzzers to split the loud silence,
So I can finish my laundry, folding, hanging, packing,
And getting the heck outta Dodge!

I hate doing laundry.

Dead.
Ingloriously, unceremoniously dead.
Nothing special.
Just dead.

That one of billions.
Poor bug.
Smashed all over the wall.
Guts flattened.
Bits broken.

No one to care.
Other than the cleaning lady.
When she's done.
No evidence the reaper has been.