I kissed a girl with a broken smile;
nothing could come near.
She carved it with a pocket knife;
slit from ear to ear.
And she wears it like her favourite scarf;
it keeps her from the cold.
So I told her its only woven by
her enemies of old.

Approaching low these frothy ancient walls
this wooden haul goes groan in hesitation
plays sunken sounds abaft of sodden planks
against wet, wind whipped sheets, slippery rope

Pilot eyes a narrow channel to this coffin's drift
a wheel in fate's hand, spun for all hands deck
one cold sea surge, after another, vaults over
sailor's gritting teeth with sea tears on pale cheeks

Fathoms drowned, as currents swell in rhythmic dance
Davy Jones awaits for those to decompose by chance
a gold doblón, a flipped up sueño, when maelstrom ends
drifting in lines of seaweed lime, or port of heart's content


-cec

I think I’ve come to believe in God
And that He did indeed create the Earth.
But I think He created lots of Earths
And flung them across the galaxies.

I think perhaps He had some off time
And idly rolled up ***** of clay
Each one different from all the rest
Each with its own pattern of life.

I think He had a wonderful time
Draining His imagination
Of all the possibilities
For sentience of various kinds.

Like a crafter making quilts-
Each pattern varied from from the rest,
The planets took on different forms
And life evolved down many lines.

That’s why the cosmos puzzles us
And makes creation hard to grasp.
We need to spend a lot more time
At art and crafter’s shows.

ljm

Broken me not
Broken I forgot
Abandoned alone my childhood disowned
Survival self-taught
Weathered storms so cold
Broken I forgot
A journey alone I fought and fought
Words to decompress
Breakthroughs who forgot
Insight brings light
Questions unanswered
Broken me not
New life New bonds
No more struggling in silence
Using words as a weapon
Strengthen my mind
The world not forgotten my revival profound
Broken past in the open
Broken me not
Reborn my word tree
I sit endlessly think
A million questions revived
I question
WHO ME

Off-subject life continues my words........ Help ME

Nunley's painted beautiful ponies
Trying to catch that brass ring
All the colors and reigns
***** music and the beauty of simplicity
So grand in the eyes of a child
The adult still loves carousel horses
The Nunley's Carousel resides in a museum on Long Island
The anazing Billy Joel saved it and had  it restored so adults that were children and remember can ride it again as he did
The carousel