Patterns are beautiful, made for the mind
repeating like seeding is safe to be sure
seeking to simplify, symmetry's kind
for rhythm needs weeding and rhyming's manure
what shoots from the seed is what God has put in it
but as for the crop, well it is all in our hands
the gift and the sower are so tied together
for everything planted has natural demands
and naturally we are the gift from The Giver
yet everything in us requiring care
practice and patience brings fruit from our talents
the giftings were planted to have and to share.
Rhythm will gallop, a horse is a carrier
bringing the message to those who can hear
but some like to think that a rhyme is a barrier
blocking the flow of a message you fear.
I prefer waking to dreaming and napping
I tend to my garden and think as I ****
I work for a living, but energy sapping
I'll nap for a while and tend to my need.
Keeping the rhythm brings sleep to the soul
a sense of reality, comforting true
but once you are in it the pattern seems duller
and sleeping, mentality changes the hue
And isn't it good to be off of the grid
Hey poet! Come on then and let it pour out
where we can be freed from the usual bid
just open the tap and then capture the stout!
Fill up your mug with the amber to brown
out for amusment this cold autumn night
foam at the mouth, an oktoberfest clown
your writer desires a great ghastly fright
Hop on the ' Fear is', it's not real scary
but simply a ride to a fabulous place
a mystery tour for the ones who are wary
unbuckle your belt and the heart starts to race.
Slowly the Fear Is beginning to lift you
go clockwise and wave to the folks on the ground
you wonder why Fear Is the name which was given
since riding this feels like a merry go round.
Peer through the branches
now bare in the darkness
searching for words
that are hanging like bats
the car starts a rocking
with door swinging open
you're rambling bout nothin' but jeepers egats!
the floor opens up
now your seat is a kneeler
upon which you pray' for the down to come sooner
but onward and upward the wheel
unforgiving
keeps turning and climbing
with no time for rhyming
and you're just a windbag
along for the ride
closer to Heaven
beneath are the treetops
you're looking down farther
and out into blackness
the howling surrounds you
as wind blows in fiercely
in waves without pattern
just random and fragmented
moments unwritten
unplanned, unrehearsed
you're smitten and silly
both frightened and chilly
and groping for closure
your mind is immersed
below all this drama
you turn up your headset
and manage to drown out the
sound you might hear yet
it's still all around you
so far from the pavement
with nowhere to go and nowhere to hide!
While everyone down there
is bathed in the lamp light
the music is distant,
and riders are laughing
but you sit there babbling
for heights are your weakness
look up and then down and then closing your eyes!
you're nearing the top and the car starts to shudder
as if there's a quake and the pavement is cracking
you grab for the bar and it slips from your hand
you're can't help but do it, you simply must stand!
the air seems to tempt you
to slide in your seating
toward the edge of your falling
and surely approaching
the top of the world and you laugh to yourself
in this floating dimension
you're drunk and alone and in knots
but it's good
'cause you're way up in Dreamland
rocking the cables
which hold you to safety
when suddenly everything suddenly stops!
Wait for a while
alone in the darkness
wondering what could be hap'ning below
a glitch in the workings, a crack in the coggery
what is the matter, your words aren't flowing
Dark days upon us, and wind chills can hover
you take down the canopy, blow off the cover
leaves scatter running and chased by the wind
but I, off my rocker am talked down again
carefully setting my feet on the ground
never quite getting away from the sound
it's that old beat for beat, that measure for measure
grapes of pure gall and fermenting displeasure
tasted enough to know this can't be real
while mashing my poems in the poetry wheel.
a dream is a ride that we write for ourselves
of our problems and faces we can't just erase
the dream tries to make sense of nothing quite sensibly
riding this dream I'm set free from the pace.
