The trees have burned and lost their glow–
No longer flames of orange and yellow
Dance as tongues on outstretched limbs,
Now heaps of cold coals, the fire dims;
Charred skeletons meet ashen sky,
Grey clouds emotionlessly cry
Cold tears fall softly, numb the ground.
Sharp wind blows glitter past shrubs royally crowned.
Cloth devours skin as moths grow thin,
Winter’s darkness enters in;
It lingers unwelcomed for a spell
Then Spring returns and all is well,
But now we dwell in interim
Where air is cold and outcome grim:
Three months sit and shivering wait
For cruel cold claw to dissipate.
Yet while Jack Frost displays his powers
There remain moments, minutes, hours
Of realized warmth and God-given bliss:
Hot cocoa after sledding, Christmas–
And though the unsettling chill drags on
Eventually will come the dawn
Of warmer days and it is clear
That life yet once again is here:
The burnt arrayed in vibrant laurels
That forgive the arsonist his quarrels.
Our words, then, have played the traitor:
We said goodbye, but meant see you later


Deep Thoughts in Dark Alleys

Lean ’til you topple,
’Twas all in vain;
Umbrellas can’t shield you from this rain.


Get your spurs from out my side,
(You heard me BigMac)
I hurtle down the track–
Dark mud churned under hoofprint,
The whip upon my back
I hurtle down the track–
Carrying a dwarf man,
Who’s worthless in the sack
I hurtle down the track–
Only the wind on mane flies swifter ,
We’re miles beyond the pack
I hurtle down the track–
Big barrier approaching,
It’s height now that I lack:
Hurtle down on track.

Under the Microscope

No other can reduce
Your life to merely space,
Swirling electrons linked by sole
Strong force holding them in place.
Existing for this
And this the sole
Purpose of invention;
Jehovah’s estimate.


Check out: PicStory

An Abecedarian Observation

A triangle on stilts
Two blank tombstones lying on their sides
An ear that cannot hear
A toothless sideways grin
A pitchfork with no handle
A toothbrush with only two bristles standing on its end
A bent horseshoe about to pour its luck out

Awkward first encounter

But of course, it is your house... for now.

Dear stranger,

You are strange.  That is good– you have met my first expectation.  Perhaps we’ll be friends.   But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.   In the meantime, let me ask you a couple of few questions:

1) Do you like poetry– if so, whose?

2)Do you like roller coasters– if so, which ones?

3) Do you have any suggestions/ideas for poems (TELL ME!)


That is all *drinks tea* –sinister voice< FOR NOW


Another stranger (but not Camus’s)

I apologize most profuse for the way this post is most refuse

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Because Russ L asked

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