Do you recall the Sunday girls of years past , soft lavender linens
with a colorful floret in their braided hair , just to one side , right above a pretty ear .. Gorgeous pastels , daisy petal smiles and sun dresses as pretty as a rainbow , the lovely magnolias of my hometown ...

Wisteria and gardenia , honeysuckle and rose ...Beautiful influences ,
proper damsels gracing mahogany pews , cherry lips and blushing
rosy cheeks , lifting the congregation with pitch perfect song ....
Young belles escorted home by infatuated farm boys astonished by
their beloved charms ...

White sky and warm air
The greenest of greens
A front porch chair

Contented hens , farm friends
A sweet guitar , a shaded glen filled -
with curious wrens

Sweet tea in my jar
A scolding crow
A traveling mind with -
no place to go

Hill Country Sun is a dapper chap dancing across the morning dew kissed meadows ! He's lighting up the woodlands with his magical , silver brush , highlighting every Sycamore and Maple with his golden pen just for us !  Cat napping behind puffy clouds then returning with that "Hollywood smile !" Heating up the romance within young hearts , freeing creative minds and warming elder recollections in the sweet sunshine !

It is to the East that I lay cognizant , reborn from images developed on magnetic crystal morns , inexplicable rays of Dawns electricity , ancient circuitry recharging a weary soul , a child of light . Azure seeker , blessed is thy nourishment , traversing the edge of time , due safe travels I impart unto my universal sustenance ..

What are you telegraphing to the rest of the forest ??
Are you oblivious to my presence , announcing the dawn I wonder ?
You could be foraging for grubs or working some sort of mathematical problem for all I know ? I sense a precision about your work from point A to point B methodically stripping bits of wood , probing , committing to memory even ,  the site you've instinctually chosen this Summer . You are a marvel of the avian species new neighbor , stripping away my dwelling minute by minute , hour upon hour ! By the way I've decided to shoot you dead woodpecker !

Morning people shelling in
drafts of ocean breath , a compelling blue visage housing
the lonely , the lovers , the forlorn
an the unaddressed
Sandpipers hammer for their dawn feast
Laughing gulls hover before me
The blue plane speaks of eternity
Crashing waves recall bitter journeys
New sun speaks of redemption , of
seashore nurture and admonition* ...

Blessed Sun worshipers , pining for ardent piedmont
mosaics , followers of the stain glass canopy 'neath
Carolina blue windows ..                                                               ­                                Keepers of the Sycamore , Maple morn
Students of the Summer woodland religiosity ,
of songbird marvel and honeysuckle arbor

Discovered myself fixed on nothing today ..
Caught gazing into the trees , unsure of my place ,
morning mortal equations unsolved , a state of grace longing
for refuge within my very soul ...
Surrender my moral culpability , slay the antagonistic demon ,
collect all that is good in my world and carry on poetic dreamer ..
Young birds expect to fly , the daffodils of Spring long
for the sky ... Seasons are born to die , I shall commit my poetic alms
to the spirit famished the remainder of my physical life ..

A dawn dollop of sunshine along the amber hay borderline
A teeny dapple of raindrops on mushroom tops
A dimple thanks to a young smile
Pine forest , first sketched in black pencil ,
colored in rainbow stencil , glazed
in morning tinsel , so long to Old Man
Drizzle* ...

Squally weather evolves into 'Life's Saccharum Wine' , dripping from grateful leaves and every vine
Seasoned with tangy , Foothill tree and honey- flower alike
Forest patrons cull their mouths with all their might , a parched countryside becoming drunk with delight
To partake in natures vintage from blessed Earthen cask this
rain cooled September night

Braying marsh hounds of the trembling earth
Thickened pools of black reserve -
retained by copper red blushing , post painterly-
abstracted horizons
The boisterous quagmire dims with-
the passing of Heavens Lamp
Agitated waterbirds swarm to available-
lucidity
Waning apprehension ensues ...

Alligator Snappers are working the depths of Port Lake
Swimming this pond in the Summer could be a bad mistake ..
Rugged spiny shells and claws like a Florida Panther ...
Determined green eyes at the surface spell nothing but danger !
Never walk the dismal swamps of Georgia alone ,
Snapper's got a jaw that can rip your hide clean to the bone !
Bubbles on the surface are all the warning you'll ever get !
The only thing these monsters understand is a bullet !
If fishing line is snapping and the catfish stop biting , you can rest
assured a Snapper is up to no good lying on the bottom !

I'd love to visit Charleston someday
She's forever on my mind
I'd tour her like a Hershey bar on the front -
porch
One little square at a time ...

A young boy , sitting under a tall Water Oak Tree , chewing on fresh cut sugar cane with vivid images of Pirates and Caribbean Sea , indigo skies and treasure maps , wooden ships with cannons and Jolly Roger flying high above ! Adventure and mystery amongst each wave crashing into shore , mingled with danger , my cane pole turned into sword , in battle with the British Fleet on the shores of Hispaniola at High Noon , in search of my summertime treat !!

On Saturday's the occasional car will
sound for miles , echoing through colorful
dales and cattle trails
Days with occasional howling coyotes , snorting , rut frenzied bucks
Wind chime maples and vintage pickup trucks
Whining chainsaws and sputtering tractors
Farm bells and blackbird laughter
Rustling leaves neath a four o'clock moon
Fluttering quail and songbird tunes* ...

I find her countenance visible in the
trees
Autumn gratuities of windswept -
beautiful leaves
Simple southern cuisine by the
maplewood hearth
Forever inquisitive if we had enough
Quietly singing hymns , perfecting her cookery
in a simple country kitchen well into dark* ....

Moss filled centurions don golden jackets
Raindrop prisms , shuttle rhythms  ...
Brook melodies , a dragonflies pitch ..
A perfect fourth , a perfect fifth ..
A jays morning arpeggios ..
A bullfrogs sforzando , a herons-
adagio , meticulous crickets posing with bows held-
high , a murders cackling cantabile in praise of a cloudless-
sky , katydids stand at attention along the-
forested path by the light ..
Evergreen whirligigs begin to shower the -
earth to the symphony of the waltz , the -
wildflower and the newfound birth ...

A tale of woe for a jealous guitar
Desperate to mimic the angels song , the chorus of a seagull throng , the shrill of a captain Jay , the Cardinal in the first week of May , the bass notes of a bullfrog while his cohorts perfectly hum along
Compulsive Chickadees in the scuppernong bush
The buzz of blue darters in the blackberry lush
Tickle of wind bells prior to summer showers
The hammer of rain at a hundred miles per hour* ....

The dark purple muscadine arbors of July forever bring
joy and laughter at times , powder blue dreams in a simple , curious
frame of mind , **** moments of bliss , fresh cut green alleyways coupled with the smoke of lit field periphery .. Wild plum trees flourished , these red delights are forever cherished .. Collecting the bounty at Dusk with paper bags , eating our fill on the front porch , continuous hand to mouth till our tummies were full , practically never getting enough ...Concord grapes were most abundant , Nana would make a tasty juice concoction to have in the Winter , the sweet taste of Summer made available for us in cool November ...Blackberries filled the rural roadside around the first of July , cool mornings with straw hat and boots to fend off the briars , surrounded by beautiful songbirds seeking the same sweet prizes ....

Because he was filled with light
May his star help the beleaguered on-
dark , unsure nights ...

Football > Uninvited guest
Shortbreads > ***
In-laws < Morning black coffee
Gossip < Nap
Ocean views > Idle chatter
Fried chicken > Fancy recipes
Salad forks < Finger food
Colorful autumn > Steamy June

Children ..
Why are the great armies of the world not rushing to the children of Syria tonight ?
Why has the world turned their backs on their plight ?
Let's try carpet bombing the cities with loaves of bread and powdered milk with all our might !
Drop canned rations from our bombers !
Feed children regardless of political persuasion !
Take the children under our wing , free their precious minds from this misery !
Lay the ******* rifles down and let the children eat every night !
Why do the armies turn their backs on them tonight ?

I painstakingly write while getting off on the pills
But poetry ain't paying the bills
So drinking bourbon is cheap , fashionable and
forgotten
A white tablet is considered crude , deplorable and woe begotten
So now I'm high contemplating life beneath the bridge
Making a living out of some back alley can
I've been offered many a 'management' position then off I ran
*** kept the forest fire 'manageable'
The work /home thick line cruelly interchangeable as beggars work the store fronts , liquor and potato chips were on sale in
bright red font
Children waited for their parents in locked ,
still running cars
Artificial , yellow light blocked out every star
Profane laborers exit the seven o'clock bus ,
drink from brown paper bags and share their
hard day out loud
Desperation running north and south as the towns three way
intersection grinds to a halt* ..

How many images do you see , in a hardwood thicket minus the leaves ? Abraham Lincoln taking a stroll , Martin Luther King big and bold ..
Jesus on the mount looking to the sky , thoughtful Rachel Carson with a tear in her eye ..
I invite you to walk one January eve , off to explore your heroes lying in the trees !

The maniac , manic depressive walking city streets , world inverted , diving head first into the blue separation where night verses day , darkness at war with the light of the world . Gray day inversions , deprivations , tainted perception , misconception and miscalculations .. Bright eyes remit their focus ! The child loses his way . Incapacitated . Confused . Yet intent , focused on the garden of good and bad , temptation , righteousness ! Sexuality . Lasciviousness . Piety surrounded by Lucifers minions ! Crocodiles await the migration of wildebeest , rainbow trout tread turbid water for their afternoon meal , mourning dove to field of millet ! Bewildered sweet spirit reduced to crying in supplication , misunderstood , longing for the path by the light ! Traversing mean streets like the rat , the security of a structure to one side , on a high state of alert ! Pawn of the citizenry , cardboard empire and the bottom feeders . Catfish pawning for dung , corruption amidst the sea of inequity . Images flying point blank , a thousand miles an hour ! Shoot him dead ! Continue killing him long after his last breath . Send him back to the blue , where Angels await !

Which plant forfeits life so that I might cross -
a field of green
What burgeoning particle of creation was -
destroyed by the innocent wave of a killing hand
The violent vacuum of a single breath
A teardrop
A kiss goodbye* ...

Pines seeds trickle downward from the canopy , find home on the floor of Cochran Mill .  Feverish morning blackbirds , burning sunlight just above the wild grass strewn approach .. I once prayed for love by these very waters ..

Smiling fourth estate goons prosper and sing from -
the very tree of corruption they chastise , portraying themselves as historians , the put upon and defenders of liberty* ..

I'll never understand the effect upon peoples lives attributed to that contraption by the living room window .. I would sooner bring a lonesome 'Billy Goat' indoors than punch any button or bell on that god-forsaken piece of useless , talking furniture ...

If I found a way out for a day
I would soon journey back
I would burn the map for fear
of being followed or roll it small
enough to swallow
I would stand in the shadows while
the controlled marched by then race to
the rooftop to marvel at the sky
I would stroll cloak and dagger through
the shoppes in town then hide in the sewer till
the sun went down

Recall the parable of feeble garden and unruly child . Thou didst plant seedling devoid of sunbeam or nourished medium !

A Tad of dad , bit of mother , Randy , sometimes Eddy and even Curt , as I Bob along life's rapids ,to Jimmy the lock of creativity , Foster good Will and a Smith of all that Don creativity !

Mysterious , Tennessee nighttime wind , what fables do you bring on a cool Spring eve .. Tales of Mountain 'lore , of whispering rivers and moonlit hollers , black Bear antics and coonskin chapeaux , pristine valleys and hillside shanties , Memphis Riverboats and Elvis Presley .. Cascading brooks , foggy morning dales and Bluegrass pickers , Dulcimers , twisting highways and Nashville Telecasters* ..

To catch a lavender butterfly would-
secure my place in history , speed
of upmost notoriety
A gold medallion leaving a red impression
at my muscular neckline , most fleet of foot
Olympian of all time
Alas winged marvel , thy record ne'er broken ,
for I've grass waiting for the mower , trash cans
seeking the road , Sunday newsprint to explore*...

When you're at your lowest
you'll attract a few good people plus a few million
with evil intent* ....

What maniacal deception lies beyond these dulled streetlights
Along seeable avenues under the nights waning , Gibbous Moon
Burrows of iniquity , soma profiles along deafening boulevards ..

The secret nuance of cloud multiplied with piedmont sunshine ..
Contours of tall trees darken green flora hallways , avian brethren
call deep within wooded settlements across a planet changing
with each second ..
Deliver me minus destruction , call my name in a whisper ,
defile not one molecule or leave one impression ..
Nurturing native life-giver , recall in fine fettle , Mother Earth receive
every seed with due diligence , cross not the inhabitant path nor remove one berry in trespass .. Meditate , Live , Love .. Mourn and quietly pass ....

I've music outside my door
Emotional tones that touch the soul
Symphonies of light and song ,
piedmont melodies to mull over ,
heavenly voices resonating o'er fields of
purple clover
Nights filled with the wonder of Lady November
Starlight , evening tinsel , a bold harvest Moon at the tip of tall Loblolly's to fondly remember
I've whippoorwills calling day to close
The smoldering leaves of Autumn to tickle my nose
A sturdy rocker , black coffee and dove call
Twilight miracles that lend faith and enthrall* ..

He could be an ogre with -
five and a half teeth and ferocious
breath
He drank Old Milwaukee every -
night an will most likely die with a
can in his hand
His cause of death will be consumption
His liver will be a 'pickled mess'
He bathed from April till August
Gnawing on country ham and instant coffee -
at four thirty every morning wearing untied boots ,
Rustler jeans with a flannel shirt
He would down two Goody powders before leaving
the house an heading to work
Didn't give a **** for being couth but -
he was a "shaman" whenever I positively
needed 'the truth'* ...

My thanks to the store clerk working the midnight shift
God bless the dishwashers at local restaurants laboring for minuscule pay
To the forklift operators moving freight for hours on end ,
to cleaning crews preparing offices for another day
For the plumber protecting health in the wee hours of
the morn
For sanitation workers hard at work well before dawn

I see a pattern developing ..A small group of people that comment and like my work .. It means the world to me and I love you for it !

Salutations to poet and poetess , My fellow architects of the spoken word-, you are Mercury in the house of Cancer , nourishing my very soul , rain to an arid heart , and comfort to a sometimes troubled mind !..........

Thanks to everyone for another amazing year of incredible poetry !

We must take life indiscriminately for nourishment , has Earth been used for this purpose                                                          ­                                          
Content in the Milky Way yet trapped in some cosmic food chain
Seeded , cultivated , harvested , stored
ingested , wasted and forgotten
A condiment grown in some celestial
garden
A spice to tickle some alien palate or its
'Blood thirsty dietary practice'
A cheeseburger under the lights
A Slim Jim at the Five and Dime* ...

Excuse me St. Peter , can I get in ******
Is there a head shop with a storefront of gold
Can I lay beside living waters with a
fat doobie
Does Michael have a stash of hash he
might allow me to trash
If I could bring a blueberry blunt then
brother I'm in like Flynt
A field of Acapulco gold , truly heaven sent*...

Ladies and gentlemen , I give you the government
The Royal Chemists with the formula for turning hard-
earned taxpayer wages into ****
Their bedfellows would be health care ...
Fleecing the sheep bare
The Pretty boys & The Breasty Dames
Perfect smiles & ga-ga legs , spewing , stewing , *******-
'Big Moneys' political leanings without shame ..
The daily struggle for every nickel owed ..
Voraciously fleecing the unfortunate sheep ..
Forever turning the earth in the quest for gold ..

I stair step her gravel studded curb
Southern evergreens poise as the sky releases liquid sugar
Pine , magnolia and wild onion ambrosia lays heavy
on brittle , brown broomsage
Polished steel imprisons the wail of countless -
journeys , mechanical rivers teeming with
paradigm tales of frosty morning adventures ,
mechanical junctures , billowing steam collecting
o’er planted river bottom , tortured iron screaming
supplication at the very hour of dawn* …

I can't wait to find out who's right* ...

Spread over warm shortbread ,
a drizzle with molasses and cornbread
On a fresh baked apple , a dabble on a **** ,
a spoonful over your corn on the cob
Hoecakes , pancakes , johnnycakes and
hushpuppies
A crawfish boil , a 'smidge in the stew , *** liquor , fresh hominy in the fridge ,
drop biscuits , catfish breading and Columbus
grits
Grandmother's frosting with a -
Mason Jar
The Old Red Rooster sleeps in PawPaw's car
Barn Owl hoot 'n holler
Two York's in the afternoon wallow
Blackberry muffins on the rack
An afternoon stitch on Uncle Joe's back
Three legged pup in a red clay ditch
Mother whipping okra with a hickory switch* .....

Grandmother's ringing the farm bell in the early afternoon ,
calling the family in to gather at the living room ..
It's premature tolling could only mean a birth or death , for Grandfather would never leave the fields for anything less ..