Fickle Silver Maples lie forlorn in the -
stillness of Noon , melancholy belles that change -
their sullen tune by the belated , crosswind steamy Georgia afternoon
Dandelion sprinkled prairie of home , bordered in thick , red clay
trenches , kudzu covered period homesteads , Spring peach
and pecan orchards drenched in wild , unabated orchid and coneflower
Sweetgum cones rattle in nightfalls cooling breeze without respite , riverstone retaining walls , whitewashed barns and gravel drives , Bantam hens perch Live Oak branches along flint , cobblestone pathways

Hid behind curtains in fear , hard to take a second glance, my arch nemesis waited at the end table , reflecting light from the space heater
guarding nick- nacks , pictures ,  Bible and other what -nots , outside
to a frigid November with stair stepping Georgia Pines , frost in battle with the early morning sun , Mama Kuhn is calling for her missing , frightened great grandson !

Good morning Mister Fireplug , hope you slept well ..
My loyal silver sentry , I pray we never seek your help !

Hardware store merchant ,-blacksmith-,--cobbler-,-cooper
corner grocer and chimney sweep, relics at hand of greed ,
unfair practice and market ploy , treachery .,.American mercantilism swept into memory by shareholder , financier . Common worker unite                 nihilistically not as fascist , marxist but with thought of humanity ,first fruits delivered upon a mighty people .. For it was simple , studious men and women whom signaled the birth of mighty Columbia , core values , freedom and the common good , concern for neighbor and dignity for all her people ...

Schools of whiting ne'er struggle for the surface air ,
Herefords peacefully forage their Winter hay , seemingly without care ..
Each ray of golden Sun methodically pursues it's Earthly calling ,
Every raindrop on the mountainside bound for the valley floor
searches quite slowly ...
Let love be quite natural , free flowing ..

If you wish to know me the path runs through
my poetry* ...

I think l'll find a bluejay -
a loud vociferous jay -
standing her ground , sure-
and proud ..
Alert , unabashedly pious -
and lyrically meticulous ..
Voracious for truth , golden throated with frank religiosity and unbridled animosity in silencing the powers that be ..
Bound for eternity ...
In her honor I have named her-
Miss O'Connor ...

Religion is mans '*******' after a hard
week of deceit , bigotry , infidelity and denial ..

I'm a firm believer in the sixth sense of animals and their ability to portend the future 'sometimes' . Many cases exist , farm animals included , of strange occurrences just before an Earthquake , Tornado or Hailstorm !
Animals have the ability to pick up emotional signals from human beings as well ! We had a quarter horse that could pick up fear , a dog that would hide under the bed an hour before a hailstorm , and a pet pig that would squeal and hide from someone it didn't recognize ! Then again I had a Rooster once , that picked up on my depressed state of mind an flogged me good with its razor sharp spurs one afternoon ! I questioned his ability to see the future later on that evening as I rocked on the front porch and picked out his barbecued remains with a wood tooth pick and a cup of hot tea* !

The first new star flashed waves of blue tonight ,
securing my belief in the afterlife
A grove of ferns lit my imagination
For I became a shipwrecked captain -
that stumbled upon an island nation
Exploring the deep jungle without machete ,
potable water nor compass
Knee deep in mangrove forest
Tropical winds whispered and moaned
A lean-to of fronds became my maritime home
In the presence of a million stars
An army of sand ***** paraded before -
their newfound master from near and afar
Crashing waves lulled a poor sailor to rest
The whispers of Poseidon
A dream about a lookout in the crows nest
Counting orbs in the tail of the Milky Way-
with visions of mermaids , ghost ships and rogue waves

It's only a Summer shower , child ,-not a storm-, like cool mornings in April -they come and go ! Like crows in treetops at the break of day , they warm up , cackle and fly away !- It's only a shadow , child , they come out at night , like crickets , the moon , fireflies and lights . It's only the rain child , feeding the grass , by morning you'll know that the shower has passed !....

A baby , focused on a mobile , struggling to reach the stars , crescent moons and baby ducks ! A proud young lady voices her admiration , urging her child to explore ! The moon lit room , filled with toys , a dressing table and a rocking chair , tonight the precious interaction between mother and child continues ! Warm milk , rhymes , a kiss on the cheek , a dusting from the sandman , beautiful sleepy eyes , puppy dog dreams and raspberry skies !

Quell every source of artificial light , smother every candle , hide inside your favorite music tonight ..
Find a pleasant thought off the beaten path , kneel down , be thankful , meditate and relax ..
Drink copiously from the well of your soul , offer this sustenance freely for those parched by uncertainty and sorrow ..
Be mindful of your speech , choose each letter of every word with caution , in tune with every blade of grass and twig that lies on the trail home .. Beware of rash and irrational offerings , servants of darkness that offer easy roads around life's mountains .
You will find precious works of art at each tree , thought inspiring color with forever changing landscapes , awe inspiring parcels of Earth that replicate your sweetest dreams , fields of green clover that lead into deep blue seas ..

At the chocolate milk water of Holly Hill Lake
I skipped a stone to watch the wake
The rock fell to the bottom , and so have I
I threw another that met it's demise
Continually skipping gravel in hopes of cognitions
'opposite shore prize' till all the rocks fell by the wayside

The melting *** of town , a tidy restaurant with the smell of sausage and bacon , pancakes and fried eggs , biscuits and gravy with fig preserves and local honey , at high Noon serving the best lunch for miles around . Lively banter from old timers , waitresses eager to strike up conversations , the latest gossip in a one light village , talk of planting , cattle and farm equipment .. A tidy Piggly Wiggly opens at nine o'clock , the local hardware store busy as ever , selling chicks , deer netting , lumber and livestock feed .. Neighbors more than willing to help one another when needed ...
The town closes at one on Wednesday to allow the residents ample time for church service at five , followed by supper in the Communion hall and another round of chat after sundown ...
Back home to quiet city streets and dirt roads , a lone constable patrols town one last time before closing the day out ..

With a plug of morning chew I pulled ever closer
into the thick forested narrows
Dawn fishing along a foggy riverbank
Snapping Shoals turned off the think tank ,
made a mans mind draw blanks
Singing waters drew a quick smile ,
I've returned here quite often from many
a mile with rod and reel , with a wounded
soul seeking my creators control
Walking away reborn
With open wounds sewn
My path redrawn* ...

Elven pipers gather and play at the foot of Dawn , ice sickle wind chimes begin to sound !
Gray clouds and brown leaves begin to swirl together as Twinkle Sugarbells mirthfully shakes the 'Snow Globe of Winter ..'
Couples bundled up with green coats , red scarves and brown mittens !
Smiling youngsters ride toboggans down snow encrusted hills !
Hot chocolate and warm cinnamon milk dabs a rosy glow on young faces !
Ordinary forest and backyards turn into magical places !
Snowmen pop up in every yard just like magic with sweater button eyes , Oak branch hands and Pine straw mustaches .

A rattlesnake is a gentleman ,
unlike a politician who's ill intent-
is never announced in advance of-
his wrongdoing ...

When Christ returns from the East 'twould be quite proper indeed that he call upon the mountains of North Carolina as the Holy Platform , Soco Falls most assuredly a replica of the Heavenly Gates , the surrounding colors of the Appalachian woodlands painted by the Angels themselves ..

Poetry is hanging your buttocks over the edge . Screaming " No ! " when the timid whisper yes . Taking high praise with a grain of salt , forcing the mute to utter their first words ! Calling out societies robots , branded cattle , pieces on corporate game boards ! Testifying , exposing the serpent beneath the rock , marching under fire to **** these people off ! You have the great gift of poetry , wear it upon thy sleeve !  Draw scribe from scabbard as a mighty sword , swift , sharp and without forbearance ! Smear dirt into your open wounds derived from conflict , mingled with the blood of the oppressed , the chastised on the field of battle !

Inquire of my opinion of the maligned , I'll feed back like an amplifier pushed to it's limit , strike a power chord heard a mile away , stretch a note at the twenty fourth fret that would make Stevie Ray Vaughan proud , hand out a blistering improvisation of jazz , fusion , old school blues with undying reverence to the masters in heaven , watching over us , bemused at our folly , having secured their place in liberal thought and audible pleasure !

A lone troubadour in some forgotten bar ,                                            
Paints the silence with a weathered guitar
Maracas made of ice cubes in tall drink glasses
The clatter of billiards , the call for waiters
Neon lights shower chipped tabletops
Chatter , laughter & poetic lies
Salty margarita tops , old world steins
A young writer recording his thoughts -
in between sets  
Tales of stale beer
A love grown dour
The plight of the wordsmith
The powers that be & the killing rent ..
The perfect gig & the strangling government ...

Courtesy of the vehicle dubbed VA pain killer
I write to you of colorful birds and lakeshore
thrillers
Of tree frog songs and cicada harmonies
Of carefree , meandering walks through
piedmont bogs , encounters with wild hogs ,
arms outstretched before thunderstorms ,
days of persnickety yesteryears , bare feet
encounters with green pine cones , days on the
farm , old flames clinging to my unsteady arm
Midday naps in tractor barns , old school country
towns and backcountry yarns* ...

Sometimes the sound of crickets late at night are tiny tears shed over a love gone bad ... The whippoorwills seem o' so very sad ...
Stars are searching for love and their place in the world ...
Bullfrogs are sharing my pain with the cry of a Barn Owl ...
Wind whispered rejection at midnight grows o' so painfully loud .. Sometimes .....

Sometimes a neighbors smile is really a wall ,
meant to draw you away from
life's frequent pitfalls ...
A friend in need has planted a seed
Let the flower grow , water it well
Chart a course for happiness and let love sail

Afternoon silver songbird fascination , what'll you have , pick your poison !
Scotch and ale , Canadian Mist on the rocks !
***** martinis with a Spanish olive ! Chugging Tequila with a worm on the bottom ! Peppermint Scnapps with a touch of Sprite , ****** Mary's well into night !
Boisterous little fellow singing by my patio , I'm quite convinced your my old buddy Tim donned in a silver gray tuxedo !!

Tonight all my heroes lay dying , musicians of great fame and notoriety , songbirds removed from the spotlight on Friday nights , radiant Sun's and reluctant poets , troubled minds hid behind happy faces .
The only streetlight in town where all the " bugs " of society gather around to hear their shared pain committed to song , get high on something without breaking the law ..Watch their private dance moves performed in public , hear a guitar ,  infectious drum beat or piano solo . Their disease made known on a public address system , a two hour reprieve from the everyday machine ..

A rainbow sunset bound for Texarkana  
The last Crow of the day wishing her well
Ladybugs and grasshoppers waving goodbye
Lavender ,pink- indigo dreams over Georgia tonight ...

Reflect on the flowers that highlight the Earth , the fire in a lovers heart ...
Bread upon the altar for poet and poetess that passed before my time ...
Pray for peace , hope eternal and love for all mankind ....
Place my remains upon a pyre fueled with yellow Pine .....
I pray that my ash and smoke , will ride upon the Eastern Wind .....
Over cotton field and pecan grove enroute to tranquil sea...To be carried over Blue Ridge Mountain , sorghum field and meandering creek ......
Over man made impoundments of West Point , Allatoona and Lanier .....
To Columbus and Albany , over peanut estate and cornfield , farmhouse , silo and pond......Through Apple orchard in Ellijay and peach orchard in Locust Grove ... Through grape , muscadine and scuppernong arbor in McDonough , Monroe and Braselton ....Over Panola , Kennesaw , Blood and Stone Mountain....Across Chattahoochee , Flint , Savannah , Alcovy and Ocmulgee Rivers ....To be born , grow , flourish and love.. To mourn and to pass ..Over Georgia ..  Forever !....

Across the reflective fields of Hill Country grass begins to escape its icy enclosure ..Black Angus leave red clay impressions bound for green pastures ..Mourning doves wail their somber retreat as first light exposes the prequel to Heaven .. Blackbirds and smoke from morning bonfires alight , the promise of daylight is scented with Oak and Hickory as fields of cotton appear to ignite . Tin roofs begin to glow , church bells awake villages on the horizon . Golden waves pan Eastern skies , Sycamores sequester abundant sunshine ..Sparrows , Chickadees and Finches gossip without end , Bluejays and Brown thrashers command the fence line once again .
Barbed wire enclosures divide the landscapes , dancing scrub Pines act as reeds , filtering the breeze with the music of natures continuity ..
Blacktop drives ribbon the lonesome acreage , goat herds graze the property frontage . Quarter , Morgan and Appaloosas quietly graze against the backdrop of nineteenth century farm houses .. White silos and red barns , gourd birdhouses , dug wells and smokehouses ..Bantam roosters and hens sift through acorns beneath two hundred year old Water Oaks ..

Firefly cotillions between seedling corn -
and the April stars
In the aura of the piedmont eve
By the light of a waxing moon
In the earshot of sylvan songs
'Neath the stalwart,  fragrant magnolias-
and the dogwood avenues
Koweta breezes seasoned with -
gardenia , evergreen and wisteria
Nurtured in the sacraments of fair -
Ono
Forevermore ....

Border my final dwelling with -
sturdy Pecan giants , centurion -
Oaks surrounded by May Corn ,
granite stepping stones shaded -
with Box Elder grace and Spring Magnolia -
fragrance* ....

Sorghum Fall , October blue windfelt opera
of curious Winter tapping November's hardwood door
Days of colorful wishes falling to Earth
They meet in oakwood harbors , perform
in the crystal sunrise ballet , pie pans
ring in crabapple arbors , withered corn songs
crackle exquisitely , they echo o'er hayfield terrace ,
red , brown and golden forest
Hillandale , windballad allegories , butterscotch fields
suing for frosted cover
Warm cabin firewood symphonies , cider and cinnamon
Hereford morning bawl , early wren catcalls
Oak chair and fescue pillow* ....

I beseech our galactic neighbors , if they should hear my cries , to rescue the animals on planet Earth and leave man to his own devices ..
Uplifted to vegetarian lifestyles , a world devoid of torture and laboratory testing , wholesale mutilation at the expense of the helpless 'Animal Kingdom' ..
Human beings have been recognized as the ultimate destroyer of all the good this planet has to offer ..
So please if you can hear me today , stop by very soon and take them away !

Good black coffee , toasted pumpernickel bread and mushroom soup
have stoked the imagination of this writer on many afternoons

The wind like the politician is blowing dead leaves into piles .-Maple-dogwood , from every square foot of the forest-, not unlike this land , to take dead , lifeless organic material and set it on fire . Heavy thick smoke-is appearing , choking , reducing our vision , leaving us fearful of the unknown , thats how its done ! A funeral pyre aflame , in the name of country , but burning our eye so we cannot see its true intent , it's the natural order charade , a witches brew , a stew cooked by the burning of innocent robotic dead of mind , grab a bowl , a spoon and a ladle , get force fed by Democrat , Republican chefs !

A bluebird's in the sourwood
The clouds are burning fast
When a bluebird's in the sourwood
The snow will surely pass* ...

White wispy plumes on blue curtains
Contrails headed north
Contrails headed south
Busy jet planes flying about
Some flying low
Some flying high
Hurried jet planes in the south Atlanta
sky

An elderly , regional dame in a pretty lavender and white flannel coat checks her mailbox with the help of a metallic walker ... Her yard remains meticulously coifed and maintained just like the persnickety , perfect hairstyle she's worn for the last fifteen years ...
A stunning , curled cotton mane with impeccable , multi -colored dresses for church on Wednesday and Sunday , the Queen of a small town in middle , rural Georgia ..
Her castle is a sixties period brick ranch with beautiful Hostas and Tulips on all four corners ... Cherokee roses and Azaleas , Honey Locust and well kept Concord Grape arbors ..
A gas light stands guard by the front door , her prized chihuahua patrols the front of the estate from a kitchen window ..
On Spring days she waves from her white rocker on the front porch ..
Early Summer mornings she can be found tending her flowers , giving the grass a brief shower , reading her Bible beneath the carport and chatting with family and friends on the telephone ....

Biscuit and sorghum syrup happy faces with Georgia peach butter and blackberry muffins , childhood favorites that tickle the palette !
For a bag of Fall persimmons , a handful of roasted pecans I would gladly cross the Alcovy River naked as a jaybird !
Rutabagas , turnips and cracklin cornbread would be my staple of choice if marooned on an island , a Frosty Root beer and mothers egg custard !
Peach ice cream and scuppernong jelly , fig preserves and tomato gravy !
Columbus grits and Claxton fruitcake , Vidalia onion rings , Elijay apples !
In my next life I relish the very thought of becoming a Cardinal , turned loose in a muscadine arbor ! The most heart stopping  , meanest scarecrow ever made would be no match for a wise old crow in a watermelon patch ! Mockingbird busy in a old plum tree , a honeybee in a clover field as far as the eye can see !

A boastful man in constant search of his own reflection will find relief by the riverbank .. Till the very moment he's dragged to his death by a hungry alligator ...

The pyromaniac and the politically disenchanted will ne'er find relief until all has turned to ash

Stormy day , rising , pollen laced puddles
Obsidian , squally countryside backdrops -
with aromatic Wisteria infusions , humid , sunbeam fueled -
certain windstorm conclusions
Citywide , asphalt stained vehicles , rain engulfed curbside -
rivers at full pool , diesel fumes swallowing available air
at four-way intersections
Discarded paper , eastbound swayed hardwoods
Snapping flags cry out in brief , turbulent episodes
Evergreen needles at hours disposal
The mechanized voices of late afternoon
travel and corruption

Hot sassafras tea and shortbreads
Served by weathered , loving hands
Beagles introducing the postman
Water Oaks shedding their color
Dirt roads went on forever* ...

Cane pole fishing spawned many a thought
Ushered in countless boyish dreams , wrought more than it's share of childish hard spots
Taught a five year old the patience of Job
This blessed classroom along the River Road* ...

Snapping Shoals remind me of a long lost song returned to eager ear..Whirling eddies , cascading melodies , driftwood memories  ..A summertime carol on root-bound shores , Smallmouth Bass dancing the silver pools , caterwauling Jays and Ravens ..
Red-tailed Hawks skimming her surface , dragonflies of every color
sailing into forever .. Sack lunches .. Laughter and fellowship ..

By the river of my youth on long , hot afternoons , with unkempt vision
and swirling water induced creativity .. My sun soaked edifice , daydreams of whirlpool and eddy , cane poles and wonder .. What majesty lies beyond these turbulent , perfect machinations ...
Addressing wild thicket , visions of DeSoto and warring party .. Cherokee
and Creek .. Tales of boyish wonderment , exploration and struggle along red clay margins ...

The humming of the cast ,
the plop of the bobber
Boyhood daydreams of -
landing a whopper
The cork begins to dance then -
it quickly goes under
The game between angler -
and fish has begun
A flash of the quarry as the
rod bends over double , maybe a bass ,
a perch or a 'channelcat' enticed
to strike from deep down in the -
pond bottom rubble
Give the fish two feet then -
pull back three , heaving left to right in the-
midmorning heat
A final tug at lands end ,
"I've banked a crappie" , proclaims -
a proud young man
A krill filled with every type -
of fish the pond had to offer
Thoughts of bream , coleslaw -
and hush puppies for supper ...

-

Painted turtles sunbathe the muddy waters of Towaliga Creek , 'Flathead Cat' roll it's mysterious surface in the devilish heat
Summertime Carp confused in the stagnant , turbid abyss appear prior to sunset , Blue Heron and raptors of every lineage pay homage to 'Creek Hunter' kindred spirits
Bass explode in the Cattail brush , Pileated Woodpeckers tap adieu to the Katydid chorus
Brown Owls call downstream in the night music symphony
Instruments that sound with increasing intensity

I swear I seen Jesus cutting a check to-
'you know who' for services rendered ..
For creating chaos & folly amongst the flock
A surly ship of fools in dry-dock
Waiting for the Holy Ghost to knock knock knock ..
Michael will chock the wheel of benevolence
The unsure will jump the fence
All the crowing , confident , malingering &
bitter envious publicans will proselytize the-
downtrodden in the end..
John The Baptist will be on the air at midnight-
hawking a path to righteousness with all his might ..
The Commander-in-Chief will hold a presser from Zion-
on the Red Nation , the Bear & the Eagle ..
His Vicar hawking 'magic blood' to the yearning &
the feeble ..