Category: Poetry

free form – first draft

I chuck my feelings here and there like nectar snuck into a trough where horses come to pluck a pear and kill their thirst. They try their luck and, lapping, wonder how they’ve struck some untapped gold, then buck and whinny and, finished, duck away, swift-heeled, and tuck in at some other field.         From “Disoccidented” by

Lover I was looking at the white flower swinging in your hair like the silver star floating in the night sky ex I was looking at the white flower hanging in your hair like a fish out of water

The grit of the city alighting in eyeballs, confounding the warden, the basher of Bibles, the sergeant who mounts like a svelte caballero, each one of them locked in the pose of the scarecrow, he watches the moment of gritty-eyed stasis from up in a scimitarred, stuffed-wolfed oasis. The window frame tickles his nostrils, it’s wizened and rasps like a

thanks for giving me your hand nothing can touch me now

A rare sally into free verse. ====================================================   Lounging on the back seat of the Humber Flyer, day-dreaming, watching, and hoping for inspiration to spring me free of lethargy – where will it come from?   Maybe a leaper off the bridge casting their fate into crocodile water – that would be something worth recording.   A gambler risking all

Like rainbows, life is too short for conflicts, disagreements disharmony; hurdles heinous huddles, false judgments,  that do not help us grow. Like snowfall, life is too warm for cold war, feuds, battles bloodshed, hatred, utter meaninglessness  anger that makes us low. Like dewdrops, life is light the halo that shines behind is too full with healing glow to sulk in

I deserted my window, Where I used to sit, Now and then a little bit, I forsook my only screen, Where I could see the world, And couldn’t be seen, Till  the snow prevailed, Everything was solid cold, Frost and despair began to wade Across the snow in the meadow, A boy worked his way With little flesh on his