I was gamesmanship incarnate ,
a shrimper off the Savannah shore ,
a cannoneer in the fury of maritime battle ,
a flautist calling troops to formation ,
Atop the highest ferris wheel ,
imbibing cool waters from the Big Dipper ,
scaling the Horseshoe Nebula ,
leading a fire wagon into the inferno ,
submarining the darkened abyss
Under the cover of shellfire , outflanking
a Napoleonic commander
Belaying the tallest mountainside
with cool , calculated reserve* ..

Imagine powder blue , morning flowers ...
Green clover nestled beneath swirling eddies , enraptured by Summer hay and sunflower fields , the chorus of Mourning dove , Brown Thrasher and laughing Crow ..Village church bells announcing each daylight hour , quiet Sunday mornings broken by Pileated Woodpecker and Bluejay ...The smell of Honeysuckle and fresh cut grass , burning leaves and Sassafras ..

There are colors yet unknown in my finite view of Earth , artistic wonders undiscovered , to this day quite alone .. Geometric shapes where Sweetgum trees silhouette the majestic Dawn .. Enchantment with every turn go I , to study my religion by day , collect my thoughts and observations by night .. To interplay among life undiscovered  , to revel someday in its happenstance ... The weathered profiles of a million botanicals unknown or forgotten . An ocean whose riddles remain unsolved , seventy percent of our precious world where exploration has barely scratched the surface .. Dark , rainy afternoons reconfigured with burst of light , the surface of oceans ever mysterious , highlighted by the Moon on hazy nights .. I flew over Moccasin Creek to sample fresh water and take in mountain greenery ..Walked the treetops of the Oconee Forest to witness the floor of the woodlands as a squirrel , crow or eagle ..Slithered along the Georgia clay like a Black Racer , cautiously studied each image before me with the curiosity of a Red fox .. Enthralled with the Savannah Dancers of Tybee Island , precious gulls , blue ***** and brown pelicans .. Welcome every change of season , Dark pine thickets tell of death and renewal ...

                                                          II­
Jagged , blue grass approaches , green straw tops , quiet
cinnamon needle oceans connected by silver streak spider webbing ..
Warm winds divide earthen cover , lifeless termite ridden forefathers lay in testament to bitter destruction ... Our Noon star nourishes bold , sylvan seedlings , beneath her languishing February predicament however ... Grassy field roads lay locked in period of service , daylight path corrections , marble land buoy sentries within thistle , dandelion and Sawgrass .. Gold , knee high cover caresses , reaching skyward beside the field road , lying forgotten , left to the mercy of kudzu , marble and granite .. Scrags reclaim rusted encroachments , tin in battle with the tepid wail of afternoon wind as stick pines mimic the Appalachians , gently roll toward the awaiting lavender blue horizon ... As pasture returns to woodlands , blanketed in hues of brown with forest echoes , carry whispered voices into tomorrow ... Lively crows live to tell their wintry tale , resting among scuttled pulp wood entanglements , to be born again , covered in the pity of lingering broom sage ...                                                              ­                                                  

                                                        III    ­                                                                 ­Across the edge of twilight where soft lavender hues lay at
rest atop her riparian horizon .. Dandelion blooms pepper the
red clay embankments , lone bucks survey brown fields of harvested
corn ..Mourning doves cry for the end of day , wild hogs lay tracks at the rivers edge . Toms sing of their loneliness  , persimmons lay bitter along country lanes , the meat of Chestnut not harvested , the final years of tall , stately Pecans go shamefully unnoticed .. Barbed wire divisions etch Winter burned pasture , Morgans and Appaloosas graze the fertile , ambrosial green narrows .. Manmade pools dot the Crescent lady , cattle ditches appear along creeks and rivers holding Rock bass , Shell ******* , Yellowbellies and Bluegills ferociously hunting the waters surface , Alligator Snappers and Mudcats work the turbulent bottoms ... Hayfields , peach and muscadine arbors flourish , boiled peanuts and sorghum syrup , collards and sweet potatoes ...Blackberry , grape , watermelon and okra ..Water oaks have taken command of the front yard ,  moss and honeysuckle line fence rows , flowing patches of wild grass and snake berry , rocks from Cotton Indian Creeks line hand built flower beds and walkways .. Rhode Island Reds , Buff Orpington's and White Leghorns work these plantations . Sassafras and dewberry , wild plum and rabbit tobaccos . Gardenia , Crape Myrtle , Magnolia , Pine and Chestnut trees  flourish to this day .. The Old Bridge behind Millers Mill still visible , what stories this elder pass could tell before the confluence of the Indian Creeks .. Crayfish , Bream , Largemouth bass , Crappie , Yellow perch and Flathead catfish ! The tale of the Crescent lady lives forever and ever ..

Grantville Police "patrol" a piece of interstate
They hunt like Lions , lie in wait
Zebra Chevys and Ford Wildebeest  
Night and day they gorge and feast ...

Elder Gents studying their cards , a rollicking game of pinochle
on the lawn , Black Cavendish tobacco sweetens the air as they sip on RC Colas , dine on Moon Pies ...
Southern Belles reminiscing over coffee and shortbread cookies ,
young guitar players selling songs , gray pigeons making a living ,
hard at work on the busy sidewalk ....
Retired lovers window shop Main Street , a penny for their thoughts
today at Noon ...

At the playground little girls whisper , point and giggle
Boys would reach for the top of the slide , form clicks
according to muscle , tenacity and determination
Shooters and aggies , jackstones , hopscotch
Open coats in Novembers breeze , bright leaves in a
whirlwind , the squealing merry-go-round , balancing on the
roots of Live Oak trees with ***** knees , trading lollipops
for gum , whimsical erasers for big number two pencils
Watching from a railroad tie sand lot border , writing rhyme
in white sand , singing a new song to myself , playing the cello
in my imaginary band , waiting for the white confusion of recess
to come to a quick end* ....

We are clay in the hands of Donatello
Waiting for our role
With hopes of one day becoming whole
To receive knowledge voraciously and to grow
To harden and weather in Summer sun
To serve as a reminder for our future
sons
To embody them with the spirit to carry on* ....

Sunday skies are inconsolable* .....

The Godhead's wrath and turbulence directs  -
the bitter December coast
A plurality of seaside ghost appear in-
briny , whited confusion
Gray wayfarer illusions o'er -
stinging sands* ...

Good evening streetlight
You've been promoted to a star
Your white light shall bathe this -
planetary cul-de-sac come dusk
The asphalt and grassland inhabitants will journey -
from afar , attracted to your beaming , -
mind consuming elegance with eyes -
wide open an mouths ajar
The katydids and crickets will chatter jealously as the -
moths and mayflies endlessly circle
Tree frogs will perform concertos in thy name
Aviator grasshoppers will annotate thy location -
across the great magnetic plane
Your benefactors will sing your praises
Poems and stories will tell of your divine -
energy and grace* ...

When you remove the lust for power , money becomes wallpaper ,  diamonds , gold and "precious stones" become creek rocks ,  oil becomes a mistake of the past .. True wealth appears ..

The lake road spoiled ,
a pulp wood ravaged
landscape , the stench of
diesel , grease and oil
Clear cutting , soil busting ,
stump burning attack of the
woodland , roads turned to roil ,
black grass , untouchable slurry
Men in destructive machines
Hell bent detractive flurry of death
A wreath for a lot on Palmetto-Cascade Highway
today* ..

To the scientist a scheme ..
For the poet a dream ..
To riparian Eagle the treetops o'er quiet 'brookside' ..
For elderly man , the hope to shop his scarlet horizon come eventide .
To the Pastor , the promise of salvation's candle in the dark night ..
For the young man freed of theologies chain , however , is to lay claim to every star in the twilight skies ..

The intolerant flowers seized the field
The different were ridiculed and slain
The dominant fed from the soil of their enemies "corruption"
They grew tall in their attempt to reach the Sun
They shadowed their children in their quest for superiority
till they were gone
The ' Powerful ' expired with no one to carry on* ....

Family is a lovely , familiar pastel tablecloth 'cover' with a silver candelabra , red wooden apples in a talented craftsman's checkerboard basket , heirloom oak chairs guarding the surface of a dining room table with scratches , deep cuts and numerous depressions , unremovable stains , weathered and never revealed , painful and forever speechless haunting reminders* ....

I witnessed the colorful spirit of Dawn receiving our Earth ,
strengthening my spirit of love for the natural world ..

I loved you on a Monday ..
With florid first impressions , wicked pheromones &
Long Island Teas ..

I declared your hand on a Tuesday with
flowered arches , summer moons &
Champagne ..

I stood onguard in your defense ..
Toiled in the name of our firstborn ..
Hands that bore the shape of the shovel ..
August dog days , November chill-bain ...

Tedious miscalculations
Unprepared peeps fighting-
the Winter rath of February & March ..

A fool loved you a long time ago
Bereft of honesty , destruction that lies-
beneath the surface , cold water & bitter-
herbs ...

Tall oaks implore us to reach for the sky
To bathe 'neath the moon on starry nights
To ponder life in magical arbors
To sue for peace within the midnight forest* ...

An old mans regatta,  ancient ships bound for the park , reflect on wartime America in 1944 ! Cheerful for the most part , lips quivering occasionally ! Patriotic . Reflective . Your the same young man regardless of rebellious ways , I was the captain of my ship as well in 1938 ! Four years later , fighting for my life on Guadalcanal in a bayonet charge against a bold , determined enemy force ! The internet and the current culture , the world appears smaller , actually divided from within courtesy of religious faction , fascism and greed , now more than ever ! You may find yourself in my shoes in sixty odd years , convincing young people such as yourself of the fine line between war and peace ! Countries forever on battle footings , leaders pose with smiles while they plot against one another , mutual assured destruction they only thing keeping them from firing the missiles ! Each day more dangerous than the last , soldiers without uniforms , indiscriminate killing of civilians , **** of historical monuments , it's all quite familiar within this war torn mind !

A tiny tear from a troubled eye in Atlanta tirelessly -
fought the Chattahoochee shoals , washed up in view of the emerald coast , found itself 'captured " in a plastic tote ...
It mingled with crystal sugar sand that built a Magic Castle  ...
The marriage of great imagination & engineering stood -
stalwart in the face of high tide ...
Sometime during the night a jealous ocean commanded its demise ..
Later that morning a saltwater pool along the oceanside caught the wandering gaze of a curious youngster
A smiling reflection under deep blue skies , a lonely teardrop-
met its maker that sunrise ..
                                                              ­                                                           A very healthy acorn stood out amongst the trees ..
His view of the autumn valley lit the imagination-
of vivid dreams ...
Cool , opulent morns ..
Leafy neighbors of every size , shape & glorious hue
Evenings with the harvest moon & Lady Venus ..
The call of coyotes , barn owls , gnomes & sprites
The tickle of pie pans & roof tins by harlequin winds ...
The shiver & fright of forest night ...
Pulled to mossy ground by a trickster whorl
A newfound view of the callous world ...

A Rhode Island Red patrolled his farm
A pretty , young hen under his arm
He tallied his flock from morning till night
Announced the dawn in the morning light
Alas one midnight hour a storm did pass
It blew the commander into the 'unknown grass'
He fought for hours to return to his station ,
then heroically chose freedom over his fenced-in former nation ..

Welcome to the beginning of electric blanket weather
When crows nervously stand watch as the -
chickadees frantically sing , old fellas -
rock an ponder what the Tennessee air might -
bring
As the vanes aim for Florida heavy air begins to fill the night , cold enough to question a mans honor , oaks relinquish the last of their cover
Wind fueled vortices , frigid aggression
Chimney smoke shapes the horizon in -
every direction* ...

Someone's heartbroken , O the pang of
love , when love reveals itself to be trickery
When confidants become mute , when
silly , adorable looks reveal their true intent
Tokens of unity become ****
Forever is better judgement foolishly spent
Return them to their rightful place ,
to lust among the wild dogs and the snakes* ...

An amalgam of malleable , tensile emotion
mingled with bits of iron and steel in constant struggle
against the cold , efficient outside world

Off to sell 'market tomatoes' to those East Atlanta communist
Those long haired , know it all Bolsheviks and their
electric cars , running around half naked like they have
a clue about a farm , their buying these god awful tomatoes
for two dollars apiece , they smell like *** , wine and sun
screen haggling over my price like I'm growing food for
free , like I've no other place to be
Are these organic , absolutely don't panic , their grown
in A1 chicken **** , the finest soil I've ever been associated with ,
a secret family recipe cooked in Georgia July heat , blessed by
a 'Witch Doctor' from New Orleans , a bit of peat from lowland
forest , cow patties from a friends dairy barn , dry manure thanks to
a 'Horse Princess' from Zebulon , ****** on by a pack of ornery goats in the village of Kelleytown

a ) Enhance the timbre of one's voice
b ) Report the taste of food to the brain
c )  Ignite unquenchable conflagrations ..

I believe in the tower bells
They strike the hour without fail
They echo through hill country sunny dales
Through pecan arbors and woodland trails
On moonlit avenues
O'er the lakeside bayous
To the chorus of a thousand blackbirds
Through nightfalls wind chatter , twist and turns

Wisteria perfumes the morning vale as piedmont sunshine accentuates oak grove dales                                                            ­                                         The knell of dawn church bells travel while azalea , hibiscus an begonia color a town square guarded by black granite warriors*...

The quotient of blue in marriage with shimmering green , jasper plow land surrounded in eastern pine motifs and whitewashed barrier
The morning clang of 'smith , cooper and farrier
Days of black pig iron  , cured oak and strap leather
Messages that forever ride the backcountry Autumn zephyrs

Be ever faithful for the night is but a quiet respite from the colorful day ,
for the Dusk swirls into a Blue star in the twilight sky , remaining forever cherished and secured within our celestial minds , to be casually called upon at will , should the need ever arise ..

Cobwebs collected in
four corners , tins reflecting
sunshine along the wooden borders ,
a cash register from the fifties
was ironically up for sale , a mirror
from the sixties , gold leaf shot glasses
glimmered , mason jars and fondue sets ,
a tea service , Corningware plates , thimbles ,
candelabras and goose quill pens shimmered
A mannequin with costume jewelry ,
old Army outfits , icepicks , bread pans and shaving kits
The air was stale , like grandmothers house ,
Several traps within eyeshot in hopes of a mouse ,
The days lunch stood open with late morning coffee
perusing a giant ceiling fan overhead , old time
rockers and brass bed sets
A clerk with bifocals and white apron nursing a wood
pipe with black cherry tobacco ,
A shelf with horehound , licorice and rock candy ,
guitar strings , sewing needles and 'medicinal' blackberry brandy* ..

Squalls shadow petulant March with outrage ...
The incendiary finger of God striking the fearful world ..
Blackbird covens proclaim their insecurity at tempest edge ,
charcoal leviathans loom , ever radical and ominous ....

Carpenter bees are 'playing tag' in the yard ..
A mating pair of Bluebirds witness the festivities from the 'Old Farm bell'
rocker arm . Artistic Sun throwing shadows and lighting up grassy avenues , melding white and gray pillows , turning pasture from nutmeg brown to canary yellow . Raptors seem to lolly-gag forever , committed to the Spring breeze , soaring skyward , taking my imagination higher and higher .. Spiderling's are ballooning across the plain , exploring their new world , carried via warm air current , natures electricity growing in every circuit , spreading the desire of the new day through every leaf vein , downstream from every spring , brook , creek and raging river to the mouth of the Atlantic blue on this glorious Georgia afternoon !

I'm playing arpeggios , aimed at the stars tonight
Streaming music across the Milky Way , waiting
for a reply
Strumming a message of wonder with a Les Paul
at twilight , hoping for an answer from another
guitarist on this warm , quiet night* .....

The insidious wrath of age has pilfered her beauty ..
Rusted chains hang in quietude , wrenched in dubious functionality ....
Superfluous stockyards , fencing long in need of repairs ..
Barns that once bustled with the drudgery of agriculture can only whisper ..
Wind chimes trill in the cold afternoon , the crack of the hammer to the anvil gone ..
Tractor implements lie frozen , a lone Crow stands guard over barren orchards* ..

The melding , waxing Moon ...
Coyote's vociferate for her favor in April
Katydids bathe in nocturnal blessings
Tree frogs sing the same sad tunes ,
cry for the pleasing call of Cicadas in the month of June ..

Full ashtrays , lipstick stains on
white coffee cups
Hashbrowns and waffles , Dwight Yoakam
on the jukebox , waitresses calling orders ,
a lone cook 'in the zone' , the whole scene
becomes a country song
The patrons begrudgingly lip synch along* ...

They're practicing democracy .. Bravissimo !

At the intersection of beauty and power , where water falls a thousand miles an hour
Where crescendos of cymbal and songbird meet-
along wooded lanes
A swain before her bare charms  
Bewitched in her thunder* ..

The snakes are in collusion with
the hyenas
Vultures have struck a deal with
the coyotes dividing the carrion
Eagles impart an heir of nobility as they
symbolically circle the sky in the prequel
to slaughter
Songbirds gather en masse and chatter , sing solos
and perform
The worms feed upon the droppings of 'the
'wronged , long after they've gone* ...

To see the world with the eye of a photographer
To know true colors and their importance in working together , completing the page , punctuality , knowledge of shadow , the art of location , background from forefront , 'twould help all of us quite well* ..

The whimsical shipwreck at the bottom
of the aquarium
Toiling among the plastic starfish in
delirium
A snotty game of five card stud with
y'r maker , a stray bit of pepper trapped in
the salt shaker
A clingy acquaintance , a touchy boss , young girls
in risqué clothing wearing lip gloss
O my how the time disappears
We measure the past with decades instead of years
Amble around with aching feet as the hurried fly
by on busy streets
Window shop the same old bazaars
Tucked away come evening in our
little jars* ...

In the cold , gray hardwood entanglement
Beside red shouldered dirt roads
Within earshot of the morning crow
Tis where I belong* ..

When Earth shuts her pretty blue eyes-
When a flock of geese are heard in the twilight sky
Listen for the night owl , the meadowlark & the-
early morning wren ...
The katydid , the fiddling cricket & the mother hen ..
The clang of the cowbell , pirouetting aromatic field smoke
The foggy holler , a ****** in the tall oaks
The song of her residents , hilltops bedecked in shimmering sunny gold ...
Servile beast of burden master the tug of the yoke ..
The February wind , the three tones of a winters dirge howling like -the faithful in a Pentecostal church ..

The artists sleep naked in open fields ,
chilled by the rains of spring
They walk carefully without cover through -
the cloudburst of summer , forging -
swollen streams to the beat of their -
internal drummer
The writer braves the pang of November -
showers , documenting his or her travails -
with each passing hour
Just as the winter snow shall melt and collect , -
forming pools of quiet reflection ,
the creator will continue their quiet struggle -
with forethought and materialistic abnegation ....
Amen ....
Amen .....

Can get you incarcerated , falsely accused ,-branded like cattle,-assigned to a herd--,--held in contempt-,--declared -a criminal-, racism--bigotry at bequest of these hands-, words that separate-,-that shock and offend ..Written language can question with a power unequaled ,-like Democracy itself-, redefining-, respecting all groups-without regard to contemptible , collaborators spearing with self righteous commandments hidden in hate !. Poetry is not for politically correct , faint of heart , or sheep being led to slaughter. She is every emotion that human beings foster , paint for the artist , on the palette of her chosen desire ! At whim , with Fire , write as though you are carving granite , studious , with forethought and with great strength !!

The **** cackled on a huge granite rock , tales of suffering and penance
among his harried flock ...
A now woebegone keeper of the past , intent on rest , cheerfully
malingering the duties of leader to no end , leaving his subjects
to quarry amongst themselves ...
The governed whispered rumors of mutiny , the loyal Knights implored
patience to no end , the once determined King visibly shaken , the future of the Royal Flock in sudden jeopardy , confusion swept across the entire barnyard , the flames of revolution intensified daily , young Roosters openly declared change , defended their space and new Hens
quite vigorously !
The old King came to terms with his fate amongst the flock , graciously
lowered his head on the chopping block !
A new leader was crowned shortly thereafter , the hens settled down and returned to peaceful , contented cackle ...
The old Rooster was remembered for his courage , the brilliant leadership he bestowed toward his subordinates and subjects as he was most assuredly reduced to chicken and dumplings ..

  .

Golden days among dancing trees
With agog bees tapping on windows ,
dragonflies carried on fragrant windsong ,
where yellow butterflies alight in spring
meadow , topwater explosions 'neath lakeland
palmettos
The music of April enlightening sable woodlands ,
o'er crystal spillways unto brash brooks ,
carry the news of the day harper bluebirds ,
curious cardinals , laughing crows , bronze sparrows
within 'boisterous redtip hedgerow*' .....

Many thanks to the Black Swallowtail
that flew my way , unlocking needed creativity
on a vivid , picturesque Summer day* ...

Tis good to be moved by a song
To shed a single tear or two alone
To walk into beautiful paintings
in the shoes of it's creator
To cool ones feet in the clapping stream
for a quiet sensation
To experience tall evergreens in joyous
ovation , count the Angels within the
clouds on a morning observation
To plan a loving reply for a neighbor
Tend to a passion with sweet undying labor* ...

My calamity awaits just beyond -
a sky of blue
Beneath sugar frosted pastures
In hardwood arbors of great beauty -
and rapture
Under the skin of a soothing , nurturing -
muse , January in the house of June
A crystalline tributary denied the ocean
An acquaintance desperately in search of devotion* ...