r - Hello Poetry

r Feb 2014

The words between
leave not a trace
on page or screen
or time or space.

The cursive script
or font filled line
serve to encrypt
this life of mine.

Some days I'm hot,
and some days cold.
Some days I'm young,
and some days old.

I have known love,
and I've known pain.
I've been a dove,
and I've been Cain.

I have been high,
and I've been low.
I've cast the die
where few will go.

I'm hidden here
somewhere between
the far and near
and never seen.

r ~ 7Feb14

r Feb 2014

Let me be…

Let me be the step that guides your dance.
Let me be your hope not left to chance.
Let me be the wind that glides your wings.
Let me be your snow that fills the springs.
Let me be the fire that gives you light.
Let me be your dream that comes at night.
Let me be the mountain to your plain.
Let me be your stream that fills with rain.
Let me be the heat that makes you sigh.
Let me be your answer to the why.
Let me be the ocean to your tide.
Let me be the one that’s by your side.
And I will.

r ~ 5Feb14

In response to Nat's request to warm up my winter pen and step out of the cold for a spell.

r Feb 2014

Cold Mountain Ice

Cold Mountain's calling
Winter days die young
Cold rain is falling
Black cloak has been flung

Carve my face
upon Cold Mountain's ice.
Chisel a trace
of a smile around my eyes.
Cut hard lines
deeply soft beside my mouth.
Send my heart
on a slow boat headed south.

Cold Mountain beckons
I'll be there too soon
Cold river reckons
Cold rain hides the moon

r ~ 3Feb14

r Jan 2014

Baby Wants to Sail

A baby's smell.
A rare seashell.
The things sublime
that make you rich.

A wishing well.
A gambler's tell.
The quilts of time
that have no stitch.

An ocean swell.
A schooner's bell.
The poet's rhyme
that has no niche.

r ~ 30Jan14

r Jan 2014

The Osprey Nest

I spied it first from my upper deck,
a huge nest of driftwood, tree limbs and seaweed.
Each summer watching the male do his sky dance
while spotting prey underwater
from 30 meters above Hells Gap Marsh.
His wings constructed in a manner
that allows him to bend and shield
his eyes from the sun as he lands.

The first thing I would look for
after each hurricane took another bite
out of our coastline.
And after six succeeding hurricanes
the nest still strong in the top of the old tree, though
empty in the cold months as the Osprey winters south.
Several generations of young I've watched grow
through summers in my time here.

For two full years now the nest has stood empty.
Mates for life have parted.
No more young learning to hunt the fish.
Standing as a metaphor
for my own
soon to be empty nest.
A reality, not just a
syndrome.

r ~ 30Jan14

The Osprey (Pandionidae). A most awesome bird of prey.

r Jan 2014

The Ugly Repelican and the Benevolent Democrab

Suffering from cabin fever, I raided my cache of end-time sardines and went slipping and sliding down to the dock to feed the near-shore birds.

One lone Repelican sat upon a bollard by the boat launch seeming frozen to the spot. He was looking pretty grimm.

Taking pity on this cold, hungry waterbird former Marine-turned-Feeb, and apparently not stuck on I-275, this kindhearted Democrab was soon out of end-time sardines.

Telling him that I was sardine-poor but had one question I would like to ask concerning an investigation into questionable publicly financed bollard homesteading practices, the repugnant Repelican was not happy with me and stuck his long bill in my face while threatening to break me in half (like a boy) and throw me off of the effing dock before flapping away in a huff.

He called me later and asked to do lunch next week. Sardines on him.

r. ~ 29Jan14

To Rep. Congressman Grimm/NY