She's a smile
A warm June rain
A raspberry tea during a firefly show
A child's creative finger on a frosted window
The wonder of the first snow
The oak fire , the crackle and the glow* ...

Please announce my passing in passing -                                        
twenty years from the day I've passed ....

Secretly sprinkle my dust over Newt Gingrich's high fiber breakfast cereal . Or placed in the air plenum of a ritzy hotel whereby the elite should get a minuscule whiff of hardscrabble living , thrown on the interstate so as not to feel out of place , run over repeatedly by people  that were forever needy ..By all means please pour me liberally over the Baked Alaska at any tax payer funded high price , 'hob *******' government extravaganza ! Usher my remains across a green farm pond  to be eaten by catfish and passed to the bottom , carousing with the snails and the worms forever seeking cover . Perfectly content , hiding in the mud hoping not to be discovered ..

Brown Thrasher looking left then right ., plotting her next move , dancing across fresh grass bathed in morning dew , Pileated Wood Pecker sings her morning song , rhythmically putting her toil to music , percussive taps draw inquisitive Eastern Gray Squirrels to her job site , playing and dancing from limb to limb , tree to tree unaware of danger above , Red tail Hawk soaring on warm air high above , Sun at her back , confusing potential prey below , mercifully giving her position away , high above the canopy of Maple , Sweet Gum and majestic Georgia Pine where a cottontail rabbit , frozen , nose twitching , ears turning to and fro , eases out of the tree line to awaiting sustenance in thick fields of green grass , berry , pine nut and bulb ...

My grandparents have returned as
the sunny new day , my Dad is the
Christmas holiday
My friend Tim is music that touches my
heart , Mama Kuhn is the pen I use
to share my art* ..

Insect soloist of enormous color brushstroke
the given day
Cobalt- silver windows laced with
mountains of billowing steam , coveys
of timid Quail spark an afternoon of vivid dreams
A whisper of hope to awaiting ear , the
saccharin flavor of love filling warm air
The living day of Wren , Sparrow and Chickadee
The very hour of Live Oak , Sugar Pine and Mulberry
Fertile , vivacious stream beds on course for Gulf waters
Rainbow infused land of Cherokee Fathers* ...

Long walks on Atlantic shores ,
my inamorata bask in heavenly light ,
Young dreams perfectly fulfilled , where seas
deliver their swansong poetic flurry , where love
songs receive their final verse ..

Crappie running in beds along the lit docks , bridges and abutments .. Flathead catfish bigger than a grown man at the base of the dam , Largemouth bass hitting shad like battering rams , early morning , late afternoon and darkest night .. Hardwood forest brimming colorful shores , stoic Whitetail Bucks dining on acorns , field nuts and sweet moss , Canadian geese and frozen shorebirds working her tributaries and inlets .. Smokey water silhouettes relayed by whippoorwill hymns , the first angelic beam of the morn striking her poetic surface .. Lake Jackson returning to diurnal joy , across reflective , freshwater twirling plains ...

The tawny autumn pastures of Whitehouse
Home of Ozias , the graves of my kin
Miller's Millstone and the Selfridge banks
of Cotton Indian , Roseberry field , Wilson
Chicks Farm , Camp creek and Berry Hill ...
Candy beside Rabbit Rock , bicycles along Decatur
Road , locks of honeysuckle , broomsage , parcels
of soybean and sorghum , sweetcorn and home gardens ..
Fiddlers *** along South rivers sandy banks and islands
Yellow Perch , smallmouth , rock bass and calico

Periods of elder insanity have provided a now -and -then entrance for the creative spirit
To explore unknown avenues painted with colors , hues we cannot begin to understand ..
To go beyond the birth to death yik - yak , reaching for something  
higher on the cosmic shelf , poetry on avenues currently imperceivable to the layman , human mind ..
I welcome my burgeoning loss of contact someday with this overwritten , love -hate world , praying to be released from the 'Earthly soup' and vented higher !

I concur with the calling Red-tailed Hawk -
in stoic visage over the painted field
At peace with the Spring farmer laboriously -
yearning to ever increase his Fall yield
I've knowledge of each grain of sand ensconced -
in myriad granite stones on the midnight path
Open to wisdom with the eyes of an Owl , in tune
with my past as the Buck patrolling the hardwood line
Settled as the Turtle Dove on daybreak frosted moors
As protective of my forested home as the wrath of
ravenous Bobcat , tempered with the hope of every songbird
in flight

Make your words miraculous ..If necessary , let India ink mingle with tears . Proudly deliver your pain onto blood soaked papyrus ..
Counsel the depressed with brilliant public diary ,
mitigate thy pain with written inquiry , therapeutic prose
and skillful , honest writing ...

A parable of enduring love hereafter , my soul applied to song , voiced on the wind by the very instrument of God ...
My heart in her receivership forevermore , my star in the Autumn night directing me home , a ravenous , emaciated vessel having found benefit of welcome shore .. In the grace of eventide , gulls cry , explore the surface of the oceans , faithful in their travails across the tumultuous waters , birds that long for the fidelity I propose before you , my one and only ...

My affliction , continually weeping for yesterday ! A map with a critical piece missing , an act that continues to repeat , locked within , numerous antagonizing combinations to solve and address , a smiling face given under duress ! Held under water seeking air , walking a tightrope over the portal to Hell ! Defraying the act of suicide every hour three days a week , committing my allegiance to any savior that would have me ..Pills at breakfast , drugs at lunch , ****** up by supper , barely able to walk ! Green pill at seven , white pill at nine ! Five pills at bedtime , up half the night !

Admiring the monuments of May
The dance of hummingbirds on a -
most capital day
Her distant ,varying shades of green along  -
forest beltways
The sudden cry of sunshine from late -
afternoon cloud banks
North winds telling tales of stormy morrow
My scarlet , clover lover whispers sweet temptation ,
sorrow for yesterdays spice , hunger for the songs
of life , admiration at the shelf of Dawn , supplication -
to the Heavens above ..

I wanna explain these voices to the deaf
If I could just stand in the Sea of Tranquility momentarily ,
searching for my minds bread
I should lose contact with everyone for a spell
I should really explore this heaven or hell fairytale
Write a book of poetic gibberish , put it on a pyre ,
tell everyone it's been great then self immolate
Bite a barrel and ride the light forever ,
**** this world with all its restriction ,
find a path to escape this perdition* ...

My disease can shock and offend , pull a rotten apple from the tree of life itself , a black hole neutralizing star light , an unheard cry in the middle of night . Gifted hands tied by the poisonous vine of censorship , melancholy days , a wind racked ship set adrift . A tiny wisp of flame in the path of a storm , unsettling voices from sources unknown . The riddle of two clenched fist , one holding a diamond . A motherless son with no one to guide him . Drugs that manage hopelessness , ripe berries surrounded by brambles , dark days to oneself , seedling drowned in a glass of water .

.

Refer to me not as the squall -
for I was the Chickadee bathing
in it's watery toll
In December snow I was the exposure -
of naked skin seeking closure
Alone at the shore in fear of mossy stepping -
stones that led to the popular side of
the River Life & Love
A besieged Castle chess piece facing diagonal attack
A burlap sack filled with lessons of stone across a tired back* ...

The thunder of freight cars traveling through Palmetto , heading North to Atlanta at the five o'clock hour . A silver contrail underscores Venus , jet airplanes in every direction . Golden Pines as far as the eye can see , stately Oaks , steely Pecans and ravishing Maples .. A frozen Buck at the wood line surveys his next move , the last remaining geese reveal their presence , then bid adieu .. They travel South tonight by the light of a mischievous Moon at tree top level , off to points South beneath the Western horizon ...
Whippoorwills begin their familiar call , a Barn owl takes the stage with its haunting song ..

The tolling bell mimicry of October showers produce medicinal power
A good book with sweet rain melodies , a toasted slice of rye , a dab of fig jelly* ..

A mating pair of bluebirds do well on this parcel of land , reach for Sun on this day , every herb and fruit above emerald zoysia with manmade furrows at random ,  morning dew on nightshades toppled from the violence of Thor , returned to peace in the nurture and admonition of my creator ,  my garden at rest , my Summer lover* !

copy this poem and
throw it out the car window
may it justify the street sweepers -
existence  
may it clean the ears or wipe the *** -
of the less fortunate
maybe folded twice and used as a -
coaster or pick at the teeth of the -
clinically gluttonous
set it afire and let it warm someones -
bones
turn it into an airplane and flick it into-
a windstorm
may it scrape the dog **** from designer -
shoes
serve the purpose of its master in whatever
way he or she may choose .....

Any evening during the last ten days of October
On a clear night from a porch chair
Face the East , swear upon the lair of the-
long departed and the forgotten
Beg for the ministry of the Delta Ghost
The Twelve Tones , the demonic host
Break the seal on a bottle of scotch
Pour a quarter cup into a white coffee -
cup
Add a half dollar piece , a steak knife , a -
metal fingerpick
Cover the offering with a handkerchief
Turn out the light
Search the heavens with all your might
Let the concoction be , may the sound of -
the thrush , whippoorwill or cicada alert thee ..
Remove the linen covering the ' chalice '
Dip your pick whilst the light remains dim
Play on a whim
Play in the light
Play on any dark and dreary night ...

The country needs garbage men and ditch diggers ! Men that mow grass , empty septic tanks , clean streets ! Workers that paint bridges and water tanks ! Folks that clean out gutters , chop firewood , wash windows , empty grease traps ! Fellows that haul junk , rake leaves and wash cars ! Mop floors , clean hospitals , pick up trash on the side of the road !  Farmers that pull weeds , *** a garden , water a row with a five gallon bucket ! Men that shovel coal , spread gravel , haul dirt with a wheel barrow ! 'Tis nothing on this Earth more beautiful than a man confident with his work ! Respectable wages for a hard laborious week , unsung heroes that made this country great !

Black and gold narrows , regal sunlight
donned in gloaming ocean blue crown
Eventides Mourning Dove soliloquy , perchance
to rest in Heavenly fields of Clover and Cherokee
Rose bouquet , neath the Sweetgum bough along
accustomed , dusky lanes* ....

Sometimes the velvet blue night is a sorcerers cloak , prestidigitation
centered on my downfall , the pun of a hurtful joke , belted to the yoke ,
trudging my demons at the crack of the whip , a clipper ship mired in the
doldrums yet life has no braking system , it's a no replay theorem , no drain to open to whirlpool away , no script to learn of the coming days , no Madison Square Garden for petty songs , no oracle defining right from wrong* ..

Do come by and visit for awhile
To see the frost tinted wild grass reflections -
across this placid pond
Hunter bass breaking the surface at Dawn
To receive natures community at every turn
alone , eyes locked in Heavens blue window* ...

Have you walked a sweetcorn field in June
When Georgia's skies are bluer than blue
The music of waist high plants stirred
in the breath of the Gulf
Gatherings of wild turkey , raucous crows
and flocks of mourning doves
Follow songbirds of all shape and size along
the woodland edge
Traipse dirt roads to the Indian Creek ledge* ...

Have you ever heard the morning bell calling cattle from the dale
Seen the Dawn dance of foraging laying Hens
Been within earshot of the song of Mourning Dove on the November wind
Watch steam pouring from turned Earth in early Spring
Hot tea 'neath the fragrant Magnolias , witnessed
the March Dogwoods or the June Begonias
The frolicking new Calves of April or
sat beside a Georgia stream to listen for a spell* .....

My white dove forever perched within June berries , the enticement of cherry blossom , dew glistened Wisteria ..  A thoughtful , relentless loving partner and trail bearer of the darkened path , a confidant ministering unto confusion , providing hope and needed rest , two calling arms longing to surround her ****** address ...
A siren song commanding all of time , a brilliant lighthouse at welcome shoreline , heavenly light in the black of night ..
Love stirred compassion riding the surface of each challenging wave , my evening star , my songbird of Dawn ...

Let us stand before the canvas with colored pencils , highlighting our past , portending the future with living color , beautiful blues for times on the water , brilliant reds for evening sunsets , orange for breathtaking Dawns , greens for many care free walks through city parks , brown for the many leaves of Fall , seeking respite , a place to call home ! Black for occasional storms , yellow for lightning on the horizon , lavender for beautiful Summer bouquets worn by June brides ! Silver for family traditions , tea for two and twenty year anniversaries ! White for the Dogwoods that bloom in Spring , gray for an endless love affair , two broken hearts introduced by pure chance , the day two dreamers collided that now pass through this world together ! Hand in hand ....

In the midst of darkness
her light did appear
I am forever drawn to
its occupation* ..

The asphalt drive has buckled , grass protrudes from its aged surface ..
Bare hardwoods and cold rain take their toll , a glimpse of Spring followed by utter frigidity .. 'Tis Winter without pity ..
What images did garnish the memory of forefathers , days devoid of sunbeam and the unkept promise of rainbows , graves in disrepair , markers decapitated and forgotten .. Barren testaments in quiet , pitiful repose ..Their plight made public against the sun lit gray of cold season ******* , for which I am all to aware on this day of the forlorn , my disease of mind in full aggression , seeking thoughts of childhood , mired in mortal redress ..

The turning leaves and I are moved by
invisible , relentless forces
Setting the tone of our day without our
choice
The compassionate musician of reason unable
to locate and perform the notes necessary to complete
my morning song , my needed diddy of love , my
awareness of right from wrong* ..

Rhode Island Red rooster serenaded the mornings in lively duets with Farm tractors , cowbells , children laughing while rushing to catch the grade school bus
Lively Herefords calling from misty bottoms
Noisy , nosey Geese honking on a cool , clear Autumn
The banter of Bantam hens setting eggs
The aroma of bush- hogged fields , red Barns , Well houses and Tool sheds* ....

Surface street alchemy , ghost line the morning boulevards , effigies that teem with memory fly past .. Some bound for Heaven , some Hell . Some wrapped in the chains of Purgatory's grasp seemingly forever .
My morning dark canopy cries with fluid familiarity ..Tears pool and maneuver ancient lakes of liquid fear , Jesus questions my right , The Fallen Angel seduces my left .
Sharks swim such impoundments forever , such is the game of pity wherein lies the feeding frenzy . The spoil for blood .. The wincing welcome to my dreams horror , a begging son removed from the honor roll of father and mother .. Shoot me freely , shoot me well , remove me from the static island from where I dwell ..

I see virtually every shade of green , gorgeous yellows and stunning blue  tonight , like morning , afternoon , each day , and the last two months , trapped in chemical depression , hearing , smell and touch are imprisoned along with my body , sentenced to Summer and apparently Fall , indoors ...

I've thought about it and I'm quite certain that the riddle of cancer , world peace and manned flight to Mars will be solved on the golf course !....At no time will the mind ever be more at peace than the days spent on the fairways and greens !.......

Hey pear tree ! I planted you myself over twenty years ago . You were a gift from a friend . When you were five years old you began to fruit , we loved this time of the year so much ! Canning pears and making pear butter for biscuits . I have great memories with my two girls thanks to you ! You were getting taller each year , and eventually I was unable to reach your fruit . My girls have since left and I can see that you have a family of your own surrounding you ! After another twenty years it has occurred to me that we both face the path of time . Your children , not unlike my own , have grown tall , even taller than their parent , blocking the sun and causing you and I to wither and break . To be alone ,to feel insignificant at times . We are very much alike indeed !

To the guitarist perusing the fretboard in boring , endless combinations , my ninety dollar ticket for a migraine headache in the back row.. For the artist throwing paint on canvas and decreeing this art I offer my head scratching amusement . To the 'gifted hands of the physician' whirling poor people into the river of bankruptcy I've nothing but scorn ...
To the Garbageman and the 'Street Sweeper' my lifelong admiration ...
For the 'Laborer' and 'Ditch Digger' my endearing praise , 'twould be an honor to have a 'Janitor' occupy the crown of my dinner table on any day !

If Trump is elected President I'm going to get up at six and feed the hens , plant a row of okra come Springtime and grease the tractor that same evening .. Should it be Sanders I'll build cages for Big Boys , go to the lake for a stringer of bluegills and walk barefooted the whole time I'm doing it .. In case it's Clinton I'll be plowing from morning to Noon , stopping for a few figs and a cherry tomato or two ...
If it's Cruz you'll find me picking the blues on a brown guitar , eating Spanish olives like their going out of style , shoring up chicken wire to fend off 'critters' , nipping on Wild Turkey to ease my blisters ....

Keep your hands in your pockets , keep your tongue secured with clinched teeth
Focus on the ground as you meander down the street

To the planter offering his vegetable harvest by the roadside ..
To the purveyor of fine laying hens I pray quick exchange for her tireless labor .. Morning  , Noon into night ..
A moment of thought for Dairyman , Plowman and Farrier ..
My invocation for abundant harvest , tranquil rest and picturesque sunsets  ..

Malodorous , agrarian & blue **** cold ...

A ripe persimmon with a cup of hot Black tea on a rainy afternoon have served this humble author quite well , a lifelong fellowship no person , place or thing could ever accomplish and will continue to do so till my final days  .. My fifteen minutes of solace in a turbulent world..

You will find me in the petrichor of June
Look for a hummingbird at the window
Listen for the arousal of chimes in the springtide -
air
Pay attention to every autumn sunrise
The call of dove in the dew kissed October
morn
Sunlight reflecting across Decembers frosted plowland
The return of robins in March

The first tee shot , the first drop
The first beer , an early morning deer
The course all to yourself with no one else in sight , the first hot dog after the ninth , the first cool day of fall , the first wooded hunt for the ball
The first bogey , a clubhouse steak and cheese hoagie
The first warm day of spring , the pleasure that a gentleman's sport truly brings* ...

Tonight I'm an A minor with a touch of chorus
A piece of blues contoured with the reverb call of -
the devil , wah pedal contortion at the seventeenth
fret of misery ...

Beagles are braying to a southbound train
Are they entertained or do they croon with pain
Call them enchanted nonetheless for they howl be
it bright moonlight or pouring rain
Is this wailing or laughter , or early morning
banter
The song of the railroad plays before small towns all down
the silver line , trestles tapping time , the screech
of steel meeting steel , shorts taps of the whistle ,
the clap of the iron horse machinations , plowing
through lowland and hillside with naked aggression
Sing , piedmont hounds
Call the approach of the nighttime steam wagon , rustling wooden boxcars , creosote mingling with diesel , coal cars , lumber and ration