"northwind" poems
“Blame”
I sure don’t blame the hills
Nor do I blame the trees
I do not blame the summer bugs
Or winter’s endless freeze
I cannot blame the wind
That winds around the bend
And I will not blame the history
With fences still to mend
I sure don’t blame the view
Nor the colors in the fall
I do not blame the quiet nights
Or the sounding of the call
I cannot blame the birds
Or the squirrels up in the trees
In the end there’s only one
To blame and that be me
It’s not the Billy’s that I blame
Their stupid, stubborn ways
Or coldness that eludes the view
Of dark and dreary gaze
No, more than them, it’s me I blame
For ending in this maze
For strapping in to drive my dreams
Through cold and foggy haze
It’s me I blame for clinging to
This dream that never dies
For thinking there’s a quiet place
Somewhere in these skies
Believing that the days will run
Down warm roads in the sun
And lead me to a rocking chair
To rest when days are done
But truth is hard to swallow
When the Northwind howls your name
And though you try to hit the mark
There’s noone left to blame
Yes,
Path I took and the path I take
That leads me to the end
Can never be my lover and
Will never be my friend
No, blame is not for lovers
And blame is not for fools
And blame is not a simple prayer
That plays by simple rules
No, blame is not my partner
And blame can’t point the way
So
Blame will have to suffer on
to rule another day
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 10:09 AM UTC
Expectations were soaring
The invitation addressed:
Me and a Guest.
Expectations were tense.
The last suitcase labelled.
I shaved in my mirror.
Gave the shoes a black shine.
(Pulled back the flap,
Laid a grip on a bottle,
Gave it full throttle)
Expectations were high.
I saw the mailman
Wasn't far from my drive;
Still facing the northwind
The mailman
Walked by.
Expectations can lie.
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 11:12 PM UTC
Hereabouts was inearthed the grief of an infatuate;
Beneath the moonlight and clinged by deception;
Thou, one and only sol in the murkiness;
Pour spilled, imbrued the prediction away from the windfall;
Thou, who laughed there then shivered forsakenly?
presumed a northwind that never tied up here;
Was life span soundless as the unnaturalness of the ambiguity?
conversed without confab, forsaken the anguish each one raindrops;
Hasten the broken heart in the wake of thee;
When silhouette remains anonymous, hence thou stand synonymous;
thence it's tiring to imitate its fascination;
how afflicts sweet taste of hyperbole from a guileless lip;
Thou laud me, when thou stare me in emptiness;
Thou palter me, when thou don't seek about my beauty;
Thou vanished, when thou don't see amore anymore...
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC
Her skin's camouflaged
by bark, or so it seems
but really
a lost purpose
for it is not her doing
in the days of old
it's the whisper of time
to prepare her
for the final dance
reluctantly she gave
her body swirling and bending
twisting and turning
in the airy stage
a perfect Giselle
when finally she stopped
and there she lay still
a perfect camouflage
by earth
only her dismal soul
dissolved in the Northwind.
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 5:05 PM UTC
**Finn the Northwind is the son of gale and thunder,
he has cooling odour,
Stephanie the Greenleaf is the daughter of earth and water,
she has beautiful hair.
They met,by the river,after Finn decided to take a tour on seventeenth September.
They fell in love with each other with only one stare.
Finn caught Stephanie’s leer,
leaned over and kissed her,
Stephanie went blush,she required another,
But Finn howled across the river,
and gone nowhere.
She tried to find her lover,
by tracing his unique odour.
So she leaned over,
soon touched the ground…….
Their tale is whispered by the frozen air,
When it’s winter, take a tour outside,
and hear.
2016.8.30
EZ**
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 5:20 AM UTC