"twills" poems
Hello fresh eternal ocean,
always singing with the glamour of motion,
have you missed my gypsy feet of lost potions?
I heard the bellow of your tremendous helloos
from the depths of Big Sur's incandescent soothes.
Sing back my childhood laughter
with tidal pools of collected truth,
reminding me I am still matter,
and will decay with your mortal proof.
Cliff edge moments continue to build
soulful homes in this growing energy field,
framed in my fingerprints still seeking old gills
in the murmur of pines and oaks sewing nature's twills
I am sitting on some California balcony
chanting praise in silence and cigarette smoke,
accepting my task to exalt the maddening dichotomy,
these cursive words love and dying,
inked into my bark of worn oak.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 5:00 PM UTC
A walk upon the waters; nigh
Shalt not split thy vein
Lest furtive glances; sigh
To bear upon His Name.
What twills apart my Being
Must extricate a feeling
Is truly trying triumph
For brew upon the brow.
If moorings mast is cracking
then ****** upon the wind
for deeper trust be lacking
my Bow I must rescind.
a Keeper of her stables
should roll up bales of hay
a Reader of her Fables
would wish to port her Bay
Make for meager living
In a time as starkly stout
To climb upon the mountain
Into the tempest, Shout!!
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 12:56 PM UTC
What you got in the fires
it smells
what demonic creations of bombastic heatheness is brewing?
I mean, Hell, what poems you got stewing?
Are you weaving nymph tails into virgins?
chanting in a pointy hat?
What is in that double double cauldron bubbling?
Up those sheepskin cloaks and plaid twills
are eye of newts? tails of bat? hair of dog?
What herbs are you hiding?
You, you pagan goddess, in the mist of your fire
are the stars and control of the morning.
I knew it.
You are brewing
Olde English "800".
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC