Trees forcefully stretched towards the eastern sky.
Timeless winds prevail, they mightily gust and howl.
They continue to bully the brown barked armored one.
Perhaps each day winning, even if by the millimeter.

Long slendered roughly textured bases.
Covered with a bright green moss on the cooler side, the shady side.
Feet rooted deeply into the soil which serves as its lifeline.
Making every branch that much more full, more robust.
Every leaf as green as jade, like the suit of a leprechaun.

Limbs at times if looked upon closely enough,
limbs that appear to reach the sun and clouds.
Wrapping themselves around each star, each moon.
Hugging them and thanking them for their galactic beauty.

A place of shelter and refuge for our feathered friends.
Riding out every storm in nested homes.
The aerie, the place they call their own.
Of straw, of mud and grass their castle in the sky.

A place of rest for metal cylinders.
Tied together in hopes of the wind kissing them.
This strange arrangement begins to sing.
It sings a melody to soften the hardest ear.

Where the catcher of dreams never sleeps.
It lies awake there, hanging, willow hooped.
Webbed like a spiders lair.
This one oddly enough has feathers.

Protecting its owner from nightmares.
The ones that eventually fade in the light of day.
Good dreams pass through sliding down the decorative feathers.
To comfort and nestle its unknowing sleeper.

That weathered tree will always live on.
Connecting all forms of creation.
Worldly and cosmic.
Uniting the earth with the heavens until there is no more.

Give me two shots
of that
heart break
*****

She just called
to tell me that
her and me
are through

Looks like...

Another week of
suffering from
the brown bottle flu

My life can not
be sober if I
can't have
you.

⚰💔⚰

Trees in bloom
Irish shades of green
Curb - side puddles
Avian nourishment
Feral life line;

Claps of thunder
Cracks of lightning
Tulips in Crayola box hues
Blossoms of cherry
Lawnmower engines race;

Open windowed cars
Sun bathing convertible'ists
Honks of impatient drivers
Oranged coned pathway
The flagger of traffic;

BBQ aroma'd air
Dogs on leashed walks
Splashing screams from backyard pools
Ice cream truck melodies to be heard
Unmistakable smells​ of suntan lotion;

Slow it down
This isn't the Daytona 500
Enjoy the sounds of the carnival
Enjoy a full mooned bonfire
Enjoy the company it keeps
Soak in everything Spring and Summer
Soon winter's snow will sure to be deep.

Remember when your love for me and life grew?
Ahem...

I would die for you.

'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
-👷🏻‍♂️-

In days
of
high anxiety
like these.

Days of
awakening
fresh and,
wiping
the sleep
from the
corner of
our eyes
to only
find that
the nightmare
is reality.

It's then that
I toss my
satin sheets
aside that are hugging my
naked body
and its
"morning wood";

rush
a shower
and throw
some coffee
upon my
inner spirit
animal
with a roar...

It's then that,

I always
find that I
lead myself
down by
the mighty
Niagara river.

It's here by
the mighty
Niagara river
that ...

my life
rides each
wave that
crashes up
against
the shore.

And...

The larger
the boat,
the bigger
the wave
that seeps
inside these
older bones.

The more
brilliant a
blue the sky.

The brighter
that the
yellow orb
shines,

The more diamonds that
shimmer atop
the mighty
Niagara river....?

The quicker that
my anxiety
yields to
the idea of....

"just another day",

which;

we all
it is not.

have you
       ever felt

            like
         someone's
          second
        phone call

              so;
          you don't
           answer

       'Yours and everyone's concrete poet'
          👷🏻‍♂️

If,

     I am water ?

  Your stone,

        offers no impediment.

Go ahead,
     and
heave it hard,

      you've got nothing!

there was
a voice
amongst
the
wind chimes.

it sang
softly
but
noticably
through
the wind.

it whispered
a melody
carried
boldy
to my ear.

but
like a
lullaby,
the breeze
heavied
my
eyelids.

the
clanking
chimes
drifting
me to
sleep.

the
voice
amongst
the
wind chimes
whispers...

rest now,

good night.

Many people see
stars in the night sky.

while i see only a
graveyard,

and candles
still aflame on the graves,

even though they are
long extinguished by the angels.

The waves of life
come rushing in
against a human shore line.
Destined to caress
our feet
our hearts
our lives.

Some people care when a poet dies,

visible by the moisture running from their eyes.

a poem is a conscience,

a report card,

a confession.

today my words turned the sun to clouds then into rain,

words at times that seem to ease the pain.

how can i taste what i’m mourning when sorrows door opens without warning?

when soon everything will be salt from the sea,

and riding the waves of eternity are me.