Twain with his wit, to some, was an ear pain
Mark, a pen name, his words to heed, no disdain
Samuel Clemens, the humorist man was a gifted teller of story
Penned, Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer, innocent boyhood glory.

I would like to watch you wrestle,
with your sheets so white.
I would like to watch you
wrestle. I would like to wrestle
with you, stand above
as a train trestle, noisy tracks
above your bed

pick you up and throw you, show
you my classic move on white
sheets in the dark, full moon casting
doubt that you will resist my
sleeper hold, afraid that
I might leave forgetting, my mask
and championship belt with notches,
for you to remember me; bye, bye,
but then in your delirium
you insult my mum and
I return to the fray, tangling
you in the sheets and warming
all the pillows coldest sides
as I do my
spinning
whirling dervish move
at the head of your bed, I strip
the bed of all its dressing,
so if and when I go you will
have to make it on your own
you are standing there breathing heavy
as I turn to gloat away you simply fall
upon the naked bed breathless

I take one last leap into the air
your eyes open wide and we connect
in that moment, I know you know
I am about to land a hammer elbow &
painfully direct.

Wires criss cross,
electricity enclosed,
never touch, fencing in,
the sky, the clouds, and where birds alight and touch,
Branches interweave and lace, oxygenation exposed,
roots bury deep,
as the shallow earth is
a deep canvas,
always waiting on the painter of the Light.


From the sky to the dirt tinted ground,
winged fowl to the rodents who bound,
or scurry, as coyotes celebrate a ****, calling
the moon to break the clouds like bread,
with two unseen hands that reach down.



The oceans sounds are the cars that roll
by and the air crests and curls landing
against the beaches made of trees and
hedges, and sitting listening still is the wind
wanting a turn to play coyote and howl, showing teeth
wanting a turn to play rodent tossing bushes about,
wanting to play birds that dance and dance aloft below the clouds while diving to feed off of the heat of the Day, to rise way above to see the pastoral patchwork, Earth below.

echoes
land                                 moving
           somewhere
tied                                  to
              ­                                     morning mist.

morning,
                         she's
string


             that
  

                    nothing
is          two
                   bottles

of linen

               But, whiskey-----

I know where womb
became breath of air
and I was born
in a hospital there,
place was north of flat,
with wind erosion,
Growing up was not easy I know
with glasses I was an
easy target, until I had single eye
surgery, muscle band
sutured, wore a patch for my pirate
eye, no sword in a hand,
I know what tetanus is and why I
had to get a shot,
Rusty nail through and through a
sneaker, hurt a lot,
I know first love and know too well
rejection, spread like
an infection through my life at that
time, unless I biked,
then the only ones faster than me were cars
and planes and trains
and birds, some dogs, other bigger kids
on bikes, this I know.

I know this is about to get repetitive.
I know how important a good goalie is in two sports.

I know what bullying was and bullying is,
I know that negative self talk is a disease, still looking for the cure.
I know I was once good, no GREAT at the Pursuit of Trivial things.
I know I have a short term photographic memory, what did I just say?

I know there is a difference between jokes and humour,
I know some-one who has cancer and tumours,
I know what it is to watch my child-ren be born, and
admit there is beauty in my part of creation.

I know
many things. I know what fitness is and what it isn't.  I know friends who have had eating disorders, and how it becomes their personality.

I know what it is to be an adult child when parents divorce,
I know what alcoholics behave like to live to drink another day and another and...

I know I graduated high school,
I know how to drive different vehicles,
I know how to operate from a motorcycle to heavy machinery
I know Cadets and I know Canadian Reserves.

I know what it is like to receive a dear Darrell letter, when many miles
are between, and young love, ends.

I know safety rules with weapons, I know how to properly salute,
I know I once knew how to build bridges in the company of many
men, we will call them Field Engineers, UBIQUE, and a unique lot
they were, I knew I was a jack of all trades there and master of none,
save one, I was a soldier first and an engineer second, now are we
ready for the explosives...

I know how to coach volleyball

I know marriage, I know that relationships are really all us humans
have of value, of value, I know how to rant a poem, I know communication and the frustration of speaking in the wrong tone,
I know to look for awe, I know that my house is cluttered, I know my dog is old, and though she is not spent yet, that day will come sooner,
and tears, those ******* tears will flow, it is just a **** dog, don't you know?

I know love.   I know respect is earned.

I know when a black cloud moves in and hangs around the head and heart of the one you love, it breaks the little bones in your ears, it pulls
hairs from your nose, it gives you aches and pains and drains the living
energy despite how much you pray it away or pray to be strong, or pray to accept it, or pray for her every waking hour, and too even if you just go along for the roller coaster ride of your lives.

I know Christ Jesus and Him Crucified,
not by anything I have done but by
the love of God for me.

Now you know what
I know and what I am
willing to share, there
is much more, for each of us, didn't you know?

twenty four hours
in a day,
seven on sleep,
just wastes away

and three on
making and eating
food,
good work day done
chunks by eating at
least seven point five

warning warning not
enough time!!!!!!!

ninety minutes leashed
to dog walks
                               and walks too work plus from
clean up, chores,
put away, chores,
dust bunnies  come
from some miles
around, another hour down

warning warning second level, time is at lowest levels

shaving, showering and sitting silently contemplating
personal time appreciation, if you know what I mean,
is at least an hour

before i start my day i read some and do the same before
bed when my pillow hits my head
another hour has slipped through my fingers
and my hand taps
my chest to find the rhythm of my heart beat,  

Time's a running out!  Time is!


there are three hours
every day that
i don't know
how they are
spent, maybe working,
maybe in pleasure,
could be driving
in traffic not
rushing for an
hour, to my
great displeasure, could
be shopping or
dropping to my
knees, looking for
lost things like
keys, or a
watch or a
dog toy, OR

the hours
of my day dispensed
by chaotic
prescription to give me
fits because
it never all fits
in even
if I rush and
hurry, blush
and worry, crush the
day and
live in a dream
a story
of the perfect day
which is
a poem for another
time as
I have run out......................................................again.

Pairs well with steak, prime rib and spaghetti
bolognese, my cab-sav drank with no regret,

my dog has more likes on my instagram
@elverum51, is where it is at where I am

chances are dark chocolate will stain these lips,
as I slowly enjoy the limited sweetness, tongue trips

on slippery letters that form words bathed in wine,
I don't work tomorrow I will be just just LIKE fine,

same thing different day on wordpress,
I don't twitter enough for a wordsmith

I am sure there is a video on youtube,
for me dude, to solve everything I rue,

do you?

Need some time killers, murderers more LIKE
Can I interest you in Pinterest, Stumbleupon,

and their ilk?

LIKE me so I can love myself,
take my self-esteem off a shelf

freshly pressed and fine
that reminds me....wine!

How is this social, if I cannot prepare a meal at my meagre table,
Days are gone when my humility is thrilled you visit me, a fable

uncommon courtesy can be found by a common man LIKE me,

@iceintheattic mentioned me in a comment: @elverum51
Always too kind to the bones, kinder than the wind to
the trees - thank you @elverum51

I need SMT
for my SMA

don't message, don't check my status, don't even phone
just show up knock on my door, that is all that matters.

Green moss thick and dark, grows slowly
The wild flowers rise and reach, to catch the breeze
Lichen lie low a laclustre collect, on the rock and lee

There are no walls, the barriers and possibilities are natures' ways
The birds sing among the Wisteria, to attract the mysterious
The wild flower petals open sun-wide to receive the bees

The tiniest things of nature, can confound the human mind
Insect, animal, and human are not the only occupants
The birds fly to chase and catch a meal, then return fastidious

E'er so often you may imagine, to see with disbelief, smallish things
Clear blue above, yet does your head not heavy grow, give in
It is not your tired eyes, that fool with faerie sized inhabitants,    

Did you see the Twinkles moving, from the corner of your eye
Breathe, soft and become the meadow grasses long and tall
Clouded vision, any friend of nature, finds a pillow, live long

I have been to this very meadow, seems just recently,                    
Green moss thick and dark, grows slowly
Skin so soft petals enrich all dreams, on waking without the fall
Lichen lie low a lacklustre collect, on the rock and lee




© DWE20150416