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The evening shades have descended
and a peaceful darkness is upon the land.
Clear star filled skies and a new moon on
the rise.

The frogs and crickets are in fine fiddle,
their night music in tune, romancing the
air with their hypnotic rhythmic tempo.
The garden fountain is playing along, water
sounds join the musical chorus as does the
light fresh westerly breeze rustling the leaves
of my two garden birch trees. Truly a musical
symphony to my old man ears. Another
tranquil night interlude heard and enjoyed.
Add a purring cat on my lap, I am content.
No need to travel into the busy city to attend
a concert or Symphony, find parking, fight the
crowds of people, pay $40 a ticket to sit in a
hard theater seat, with strangers I do not know
all around me, and a woman in front of me with
her hair piled high blocking my view. Drive
over an hour in and hour plus back, when I can
sit on my Porch, not even leave home and enjoy
Nature's own wonderful concert for free.
Only a fool or much younger person would
do otherwise. Having done all that in my youth,
now I don't need or have to.
pick a word, let it lead you astray, then (soil)


a poem to exclaim, refracting the sun rays emerging
from the curves of your chested heart, the waggle of
ten fingers conducting your inner song, the baton first
waved swipe to earth pointing, let us commence there:

think of yourself, entirety, as soil, you the potter,
what has been planted by others, nourished by others,
along sides of your ingestions, you the grower, seeded
anew, each word, hybrid edging with existing vocabularies

the sun from without, the sun from within, the rivulets
of water, the arterial pathways, feed the treasure chest,
and you, farmer, planter, grower, picker, plucker of the
produce, serve us, baskets grown on the fruited plain of

poems’ soil consisting of the writings grown in the
unique you,
all of you,
body & soul
 May 3 lmnsinner
Traveler
Perhaps I prefer to play the ghost
To only be seen by the ones
I love the most
To limit the stress
Of life’s bumpy roads
I won’t let bad take its toll.

(But that’s not how I use to roll)

Life’s beauty fulfills my quest
A peaceful life is my success
There is no sense in worrying
Simply stay out from under the gun
If there’s nothing chasing us
There’s no need to run.
🧳 TT
They came and went some time ago
Left their imprint deep in snow
To flare through history's dawn to dusk
In massive curvature of tusk,
Vast woolly flank in shaggy pelt.
An intelligence, expressly felt,
Of sadness in the way of man
Whose savagery of intellect, would plan,
A woefulness of short insight
In determining the Woolly Mammoth's plight!

Like the candle's brief, bright flare
Great herds, once roamed, no longer there,
Majesty's lost innocence
Now extinguished in intransigence.

M.
Foxglove
Taranaki, New Zealand
11 July 2020
Where in the world is the sanctity kept, when the truth seeps away to a lie, how can it be that a few furtive puffs, separates the low from the high?
Can you promise, in honesty Sir, that a black man can make like a white, or that whites make adjustments to be like a black, knowing difference indelibly bites?
Protest pedantically puffs up the crowd, though most go along for the larks, but the whole world contuses in radical rage because cops use their dentures like sharks?
Blue the shade of endless sky, black the shade of pitch but green's reserved for envy, friend, when trading with the rich.
How then the love that all kids wear, is as shallow as mist in the air...and their Kardashian cravings make millions for some, but leave most in utter despair?
What's with the content she rattles around, on the average day in her head, for the blood that she bleeds obscurely deceives, even though it's a bright shade of red?
Sacrifice counts in a family way, though a marriage may fast disappear, when the glue dissipates then the thing that rates, is that  maintenance payments are dear?
Where are the leaders to show us the way, how can we possibly see, when obsession and greed are compounding to bleed...Can this really be happening to me?
Surely goodness and mercy shall furnish the way...Now aint that the teaching of Church... or should we confess that it's all such a mess, that we're, now ******* bricks in the lurch?
Maybe the sun will shine today, maybe it will rain, but the one thing you can bet on, pal ....it'll, definitely, come with pain!

M.
10 June 2020
Sittin n' grizzlin in the rain.
 Oct 2019 lmnsinner
Nat Lipstadt
called me in for a consultation,

lean in,” he suggested, with nearly closed eyes,

“see the youthful optimistic predecessor,
the conqueror, who could not be defeated,
his thin images within still resides

the man of firm voice who when he spoke
above the rabble, all fell silent, and when he looked,
all could share his visionary insights and did not hesitate,
saying, we will do and we will listen,
but to follow, just did, wrapped
in your confidence

I want that boy back, smooth skinned, fearless,
do not return him till the shadows have dissipated,
the bruised lines of worry have evaporated,
the hands look unscathed, then raise them in
self-supplication, demanding satisfaction,
then in success, born overhead, marking appreciation,

let us adventure forth, straightening tilting windmills,
punishing renegades and dragons fearful,
saving damsels who waited just for our arrival,
shedding courage upon those who watch us,
cheering and being cheerful

here is your mighty pen,
cut sharp the poems out from the within,
read them slow, winding to now crooked old friends,
who remember everything dear, their youth of no fear,
the best of past, dreaming poems, mist born, fog vapor gone,
of black and waiting white, worthy words all revived

return to me in blazes,
sumptuous colors of derring-do,
I need that child brave, for perhaps
you have not noticed my flaking slivering skin,
the expanding cracks that cross my images,
just like you!

I need you to rebirth you,
I need you to rebirth me!

8/16/19 reflections from a blue glacier
 Apr 2019 lmnsinner
Medusa
you returned as you left
sure-foot fleet & elegant

black eyes see all and one
you always saw everything

perspectively right or wrong
we two were dangling

precipice arighted you
found us to be true

we won the day
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