Acrylic painting by Artemus Blue

Poetree


Catch & Release

A fisherman’s boat is sinking
in a pond or in the sea
He has one chance to be released
His fishing line is caught inside
a jungly haven of lily pads
Franticly he pulls and grabs
at his pole while pushing off
with his feet inadvertently
from the boat that’s barely seen
It falls into the murky deep
Plunging in propelled to swim
A tumultuous feat
He never learned formerly
His hands like hooves are clawing
His feet in shoes stomping through
the water seeking forward motion
or something somewhat solid
His efforts are in vain
In order to survive this game
Panic must subside
Let common sense be his guide
Emerging fingers clutch the line
Eyes of mud wide open find
a bobber and an empty hook
hung up in the watery vines

Avenging her anguish
fate began to take its stand
For it was his past
catching up with him
In a pond or in the sea
back and forth was he with she
who was naive to fall for his
catch and release
Pulling her out
Holding her gently
Removing the hook
She struggled to breathe
Stroking her gills
Parting her fins
Plunging himself
inside her wetness
Then a premature cast
back into the pond
or into a sea of ejaculation
and doing this over
and over again

But it was still she who knowingly
went back for more wretchedly
accepting the hook orally
tearing a gash in her scarred up lips
He would not quit
and neither would she
Until finally one day
he spitefully sailed away
leaving her floating and bleeding
The hook she had swallowed
he ripped from her throat
the flesh from her heart
lay strewn in his boat
then he was gone for good

She searched for the boat
the bobber to follow
down to a hook
with a worm of rubber
that never again was offered
No plastic meal to lure and tease
No more relentless
catch and release
for her that is
The pond, the sea,
the entire ecosystem
self centered around
his world of relation
without the knowledge
of it’s obligation
or any idea of his sick intentions
actually oblivious to his existence
But he still believed “All below revolve around me!”

Waxing moons and waning tides
had come and gone in healing time
She heard one day his boat in the wind
A hurricane whirled and slowly set in
over the pond he nestled on
or sea where he was playing his game
Assuming immunity
He thought he was safe
then a massive wave took over his fate
It was said his boat had sank
and he was never seen again.

Tangled in seaweed
two eyes see him gladly
Closer he swims to the lily pad hideaway
A family of reptiles of alligator kind
awaiting his rest to pounce when he’s blind
He sees his hook
his knees dragging bottom
in the shallow water
he attempts to stand
on tired legs the muck is sucking
his shoes into its depths
he lifts his feet takes giant steps
Trudging and thrashing through the green
frogs and birds sing peacefully
vultures lurking and hovering
waiting to hear for his last breath

Suddenly frogs and birds go silent
all that is heard -a splash of violence
A soaring pain runs up his leg
and pulls him in up over his head
His hands like claws raking the bottom
he pulls himself free rushing clumsily out
Climbing up a bank too steep
his feet slide down awkwardly
Blood oozing through heavy pants
the left leg losing the pain enhances
only to notice his right foot stuck
caught in the jaws of a gator’s luck
Dinner for the cold blooded family
was beginning to look good and tasty
He kicks with his leg as weak as it is
on his belly in dirt he thinks he can swim
He holds his head up with fistfuls of soil
his body slides backwards
down the bank getting wetter
into the water up over his head
chomping more chomping his foot comes off
releasing himself he swims for the surface
he finds the air he chokes he coughs
he swims for the shore
right foot missing and left leg broken
helplessly bleeding and spoken for
the vultures anxiously waiting their turn

He lies on his back
waving a white flag
but nature is ruthless regarding revenge
With a foot in its belly
the gator runs swiftly
between his legs opening widely
He catches a glimpse of the hungry reptile
closing down on him tightly
A final scream is released to exile
The pond is heard waving laughter
And the sea is seen casting a smile
His limbs are torn off
His groin chewed quickly
A family of seven enjoy the feast
Then the vultures come pacing
the air with glee
When it is time
they will dine
a delicacy on land
and one in flight

Every good and every bad thing
happens to come in threes
First it was Her by He
out of a pond
and into the boat
then back into the sea
Second was He by a reptile’s teeth
out of a pond
and onto the shore
then back into the sea
A charming third his Ghost took flight
up from the ground into airy night
the vultures took off and left the flesh
catching the Ghost instead
out of the air
and into their mandibles
then the release to fall to land
playing the game in hovering circles
over and over
and over and over
and over and over again.


The River

A river runs swiftly and quietly
but not as fast as a steady rain
racing down aimlessly
a droplet found curiously
in the clutch of a rocky bank

A river whisper echoes for miles
like a whimpering of a tired child
rather white water
or crashing like thunder
it peacefully flows in free style

A river gracefully dances with glee
down and around every cypress tree
old but strong
content all along
a shallow bed of cypress knees

A river dark and brown with swamp
the smell of mangrove ahead in it’s mouth
birds heard chirping
frogs heard singing
crickets orchestrating every sound

The river running carries a canoe
twisting and turning a vessel of two
steering and steady
paddle when ready
listen to the river; it whispers to you
hush...the river speaks to you.


Poetreehugger
5/16/2009 3:30pm

Poetry
Words comprised
of thoughts and time
Vaguely relayed
Explicitly portrayed
Sadly chronicled
Happily registered
No matter its content
An artist is present
A favorite of three
and one is poetry

Tree
Majestic tower
of energy and power
Peacefully employ
Violently destroyed
Wretchedly gone
Contently reborn
No matter what kind
A life so divine
A favorite of three
and one is a tree

Hugger
A genuine touch
of arms and love
Occasionally conspired
Universally desired
Mournfully in need
Gladly received
No matter when
A hug from a friend
My favorites are poetry
and hugging a tree.


Falling Grace
-a South Dakota snowfall in Yankton
© Raelea C Phillips 2010. All rights reserved.

A story of footsteps go pitter patter
where massacre once took place
innocent blood sadly scattered
beneath a soil of immortal deface
but the spirits yield to falling grace.

The peaceful sight of eminent silence
from glazing white content display
sparkling flakes of tiny crystals
that slowly fall and gently lay
on a sad Dakota winter's day

Memories melt in land of buffalo
northern plains contend its past
but stories reign through songs of snow
until one voice is Lakota’s last
then who to reveal the unborn mask?

And so beneath a martyred ground
a passive season of wintry lace
ageless spirits leave vacant sounds
through a blanket of mercy, asylum face
from a sleepless sky of falling grace.

Oh peaceful sight of eminent silence
your glazing white content display
& sparkling flakes of tiny crystals
that slowly fall and gently lay
on a calm Dakota winters' day.


Fayetteville Poetry

My Niece & Nephew

The Scorpio Sun
lay quietly resting
high in a starlit sky
Darkness awakened
in water constellation
brought forth a baby
of Cancer ascension
while the moon shone down
in Gemini

She came here
not by stork
nor a bus, nor train
not even in an aeroplane
A rhyme and reason
in an autumn season
The gift of Rowan
Her birth a blessing
A beautiful smiling face

The Aquarius Sun
affixed in the morn
barely over the horizon
Daylight conversing
an air constellation
brought forth a baby
of Aquarius ascension
while the moon rested
in Capricorn

He came here
not by basket
nor bicycle, nor horse
not even in a covered wagon
A song and place
on a winter’s day
The gift of Tristan
His birth a blessing
So gentle and so handsome

Gripping fingers
tiny hands
Blue eyes wide open
and parting lips
cooing songs
and squeaker tunes
A sister and brother
together they bloom
My love to both my niece and nephew!

-Aunt Raelea


The Orange
For Larry 3/23/08

Fiery but sweet
Raging bold but vulnerable to cold
On the outside a bumpy ride
Shining bright a colorful sight
Attracting and refracting
an orange light

Succulent but messy
Difficult to peel attempting to reveal a smile
A fruit of labor concealing fervor
the reality of ideality of the feminine
Deeply residing the potentiality
to reveal the identity of a loving friend

Digging my thumb to indent into some
Resistant armored skin
Enduring to indulging but stopping to listen
Softly the quick sound of your sweet breath
Then preparing my mouth
for the delicate flesh

Suspending consumption I’m noticing something
Within your function a mere revelation
Inside each slice a representation
The complication of your person
Arrogant but uncertain creative perception
a lonely man lacking One
to embrace your vision.


Purring Friends
12/9/08

There there
I will take care
of every pretty stripe
and every fine hair
and what do we have here
a brown belly to bare
Green eyes and blue eyes
and long eyebrow whiskers
a small button nose
and triangle ears
with cheeks full of whiskers
and a cute little beard
or pretty black lips
Don’t stick that pink tongue
out at me!

A tale of a tail
shaken or stirred
twitching with affection
with striped fur
when happily engaged
in a meow furnacular
or dropping a toy
in silent stealth mode
A tale of a tail
in the mark of a question
or in exclamation
Missy Brown
lies herself down
on my paper and pen
or book that I’m reading
a proclamation

Mama knows the situation
for they are sisters
and jealous of one another
but love each other
So it is time
to pet the sweet heads
or brush their cheeks
they like this best

There there
I will take care
of every pretty stripe
and beautiful brown hair
lying in bed
with my purring friends
Juliet and Jen.


Daddy's Hands

Rain is falling gently
just above my head
I’m sitting in a wooden rocker
beneath a porch constructed by
my daddy’s hands.


Catharsis

The beginnings of dawn
in a southern town
the streets are damp
the trees are still
the air is quiet
I am walking
after a long, painful night.


I Left The Door Cracked Discreetly

Blinking my eyes
seemingly like
a flickering of light
I left the curtain cracked slightly
So its not the light at all
only my mind
struggling to find
its twilight fall
I left the door cracked discreetly
for someone to watch over me
while I sleep.


Lake Worth Poetry

Precipitation
A rainy evening in Lake Worth 9/23/2010 6:56PM

I love the sound of rain
I’ve written of rain before
I love the quiet of snow
I ought to write of it more
It may be the absence of people
when it rains
the watery sound
to drown out all others
It may be the absence of everything
when it snows
the silence swarming inside
my ears and head
as if suddenly I go deaf
and the world continues making noise
but I cannot hear it

I love the clanking of large heavy drops
falling hard against the gutters
made of aluminum or some other metal
especially the ruckus
of crashing rain on a tin roof
the pitter patter of landing plops
running a mile or more
racing from a cumulonimbus sky
the splatting against the leaves of trees
dancing between the blades of grass
or gently puddling onto a flower pedal
raindrops huddling communing together

I love the peaceful fall of snow
tiny crystals floating through the sky
clumping into flakes waltzing coupling
whispering droplets frozen into ice
a silent courtship passing
trapped in silence and waiting to melt
awakening to sing to each other
the songs of spring but until then
each feathery crystal
a symetrical sixfold
cuddling hush, the white, the calming

I love the sound of rain
and the quiet of snow
Precipitation brings me tranquility.


O
9/3/2010 Friday at 2:54
Rowan’s nap after many Sesame Street ABC songs

O is for Oreos
a tasty delight
or if you crave healthy
an early Oatmeal bite
An Orange from Florida
a juicy little fellow
or a cheesy lasagna
mixed with Oregano
Onions are a favorite
especially the red Ones
Oysters work well
in a raw naked fashion
Cooking with Olive Oil
makes food taste yummy
some use an Octopus
coloring with it’s ink

Some Outstanding people
Own an O name
like Oprah and Obama
and Otis Redding
Nature has Obvious names
like the white Barn Owl
Osprey in an Oak tree
and Oleander flowers
Some cities I traveled
Oak Ridge and Omaha
Did a gig in Opp
a small town in Alabama
Florida has Ocala
Okeechobee and Orlando
I lived in New Orleans
the second starts with O!

Some Old stories start with O
The Odyssey and Oedipus
can be read or can be sung
in Opera singing Octaves
An Ornery Old Oarfish
way Out in the Ocean
swims with an Orca
going up for Oxygen
A switch can turn Off
like a dead libido
but if it stays On
Go for the “O!”
O is for Orgasm
my favorite O word
Only One is needed
but more is preferred

Wrapping up this poem
with an Omni Oxymoron
Obliging words in writer’s block
Ol’ rooster crows at noon O’clock
Had to lie to take an Oath
The next P words Object to O
Prancing in Prolific Place
P makes chaos in Oasis
But O stood tall in Opposition
Obsessed with P’s Obfuscation
That P must wait and Obey
the Order from which it must’ve came
The ABC’s, an Organization
an Orchestra in Alphabetation
an Oboe plays the last few lines
and O receives a standing Ovation!


I Rather Be Outside At Night
3/10/10 revised 3/28/2010

I rather be outside at night
where I can be seen
and can’t
Anticipating and tasting
the dew that sets by morning
From a secret cover
nocturnal hovering
a cloud waiting to quench my thirst
in bursting…dreams

I rather be outside at night
in the fragrant air of jasmine
sweet but subtle, gentle
the cloud moves slowly
a cat plays a fiddle
revealing a crescent moon
amidst a jumping cow
a laughing dog
with a running dish and spoon

I rather be outside
with riddles and rhymes
under a quiet dark sky
cradling the night.


Cannibalistic
5/9/2009

There is something sensual about biting
into a piece of produce
that I have grown and nurtured
from a seedling
buried warmly in the backyard
It sounds somewhat cannibalistic!
But if all is life
including the trees
the vines
the grapes
and the wines
then the consumption of life
makes me a cannibal.
Therefore, we are all cannibals
and this cannot change
unless we resolve ourselves to eating plastic
Although the processed food most commonly consumed after purchase
after distribution to the corporate grocery chain after mass production
has the nutritional value of a plastic apple
or plastic banana
or plastic orange.

But if we eat plastic the recycling plants would have nothing to process and those jobs would be lost and our economy is already falling apart or fell apart and then poor little ‘world power America’ will lose the heavy weight title to China or Japan or maybe Canada as if we haven’t already even though Norway and Sweden are actually the richest countries in the world with the lowest unemployment rates lowest crime rates and lowest obesity rates and people live longer on average and have to visit a doctor less on average at the same time it is a RIGHT not a privilege to have free healthcare not to mention they both have the highest education standards where universities are free as well and don’t feel the need to spend so much fucking government money on a useless defense policy since they don’t have a masculine ego to start wars! Damn liberals making us look so bad!
Oh forget it
Be a Cannibal!


Milwaukee Poetry

Spring Has Come
An afternoon at South Shore Park 4/24/2006

Spring has come
My first in Wisconsin
Seagulls dive into cool waters
Of Lake Michigan
A park provides contentment
And enchantment
Passersby with their happy canines
Couples holding hands
Smelling the fragrance of springtime
Nappers soaking up the sun
Sprawled out on blankets
That cover green lawns
The breeze carries laughter
Barking and chirping
The sounds of a new dawn
The trees not quite in full bloom
But spring has come
Bringing delight to everyone
Here in Wisconsin.


Melancholy

Pardon the dark skies
Pardon the winter shade
It has left us for a while
And taken the melancholy with it.


Fragility
For Chris K. 1/9/2007

You hit me with words of scorn
then again with eyes of concern
sarcasm in waves
followed by gentle praise
I delighted in finding intentions unborn.

Buried behind such pessimism
fragile glass protecting your skepticism
of any other
or myself for that matter
from accepting your unusual person.

A rock I threw deliberately
it cracked the glass abruptly
you started to run
but turned back in time
a moment which means the world to me.


The Park Bench
unknown date 2007 revised 12/3/08

A man sits down on a park bench
encircled by a university of pigeons
He turns his head from side to side
and up and down
wondering what language of lecture
echoes from a coo
Boredom sat in right away
The man was attention deficit
He wanted to stop to appreciate
time slowing down
moment by moment
seeming endless

A womyn sat across the paved walkway
on another park bench
She was watching the man
He noticed the womyn turn quickly away
but even her eyes
were blinking slowly
How long had she been there?
The man’s anxiety
of her discovery
beset his mind
with an awkward twitch
in his left cheek
and eye
His restlessness suddenly
made time
go back to a normal pace
The womyn rose up
from her park bench
and walked away.


Sleeper
3/12/2006

Distant screams become nearby cries
Walking closer toward an unforgiving nightmare
One, a professor heard grinding his teeth
Another, his wife, seen stumbling in her sleep
Both caught in an unborn dream

Tempted are those to stir their slumber
To wake from a depth
where thoughts fall
like timber
or thunder
But an old wives tale
still lingers
and lingers
And it says of a heart may be sent to arrest
“Enter At Your Own Risk”
The sign hangs in lucid sight
but not so to frighten
one who dares to fall into the same dream
Then wake inside nowhere
Stay caught in their nightmare
A play from the start
The stir of slumber
Would have been safer
The risk of death wavers
What was once the Awaker
is now the Sleeper
Now the nightmare
continues
Joined with professor
an undertaker
Or maybe his wife
the Grimmest of Reepers
Regretfully should have read
the sign
Next time
Awaken the one who stumbles in her sleep
or the one who is grinding his teeth.


New Orleans Poetry

Little Bandit

Little raccoon coming toward me
Like a curious cat, panting
He looks thirsty
He’s closing in
Little bandit
Maybe he’s hungry
He is watching me
He does not read
A butterfly flies past the tree
That he has climbed


I Left Everything
6/11/2004

I left everything
Packed up some clothes
I left my hat, my TV
my life, my sanity
I left it all
I don’t need the TV anyway


Workaholic
2/15/2003 Sat. 2:15

In this life
Our souls are enslaved
to our bodies

But my father’s body
is enslaved to his soul
In this life.


The Bath Tub
1/24/2003 3:38pm revised 4:03pm

I remember as a child
filling the bath tub with plain water
(bubbles only blocked the view)
After slowly entering the warmth
I would sit down and watch the water
move all around me
back and forth
ignoring the feel of it’s embrace
sitting still as the water slowed
to accommodate the mass
that invaded it’s space
The water welcomed me with a stir
then obeyed my motionless body
The water in all it’s grace
would wait for the next command of my body
but I would not move

I remember the distance
I remember the reflections
The water surface reflected everything above
and up to the ceiling
But the reflection was endless to me
I could see the vast distance
I could fall through
Looking down, past the surface tension
someday I would fall through

I still wait to fall through
every time I enter the bath tub
I am 30 now.


Mamma's Kitchen
6/13/2002, revised 10/23/08

“One Day at a Time” Mamma sings
She knows every word
“How Great Thou Art”
The melodies escape her
so not to drown within her soul
She ponders
At the top of her voice she talks
She tells of a story
in constant momentum
pacing her continuous walk
She sings again of peace with Christ
Go Mamma Go!
And oh, Oh that cookin’ fo sho’!
Rollin’ chicken in the flour to fry
Boiling potatoes to mash with butter and milk
Fresh green beans
and okra from the garden
and buttermilk biscuits are next
to sop up the dumplings
and gravy that drench
the entire southern fried mess
Oh but Oh soooo good!
Comin’ outta Mamma’s kitchen!
And the smell of that chicken!
It’s not even 4 o’clock
And we’ll probably eat by 5pm.


Summertime

Summertime
New Orleans is fine
Humid by day
Sultry by night
On a roof nearby
A poet is writing
Escaping her mind
Words without meaning
But she tries
Oh, so eloquently
She still tries
But not so eloquently
These words do fly
Here they have landed
In black and white
Without rhyme
Summertime


Tallahassee Poetry

Lake Ella series
-the story of Nathan
© Raelea C Phillips 2010. All rights reserved.

The Heron As My Witness
Part 1, 4/19/1999 1:30pm

Little does my companion know
The naked image of his deceiving fire
Conviction upon I must bestow
To release and free this burning desire
But to continue deception my heart will tire

Seeking warmth from untamed child
Displayed heart begged for destined bruise
Confused mind his chastity beguiled
With simple pleasures that can’t be refused
But tormented the self for a battle to lose

Rhythmic pounding of shameless flesh
Temptation to words but never expressed
Unclaimed lips in passionate embrace
Then falter emotions through senseless sex
With mindless gestures vaguely confessed

“And I will be the one” piece
To a 3-D puzzle built in space
A piece adrift amongst Capricorn
Then encountered briefly around a lake
To a fearless heron that saw my face

To witness my sin of vulnerability
Trembling body screams with delight
The bird gives warning of fatality
The untimely escape of false reality
With parting sweet souls, surrender tonight.


Resurrection of Guidance
Heron As My Witness Part 2, 6/21/1999 6pm

Footsteps on a sidewalk around the lake
Hands embraced with contentment
Remembering encounters of a heron’s take
Passion and surrendered moment
Gazing stares through eyes of resentment

Blushing, conversing with a tender touch
Trading childhood tales sans regret
Comfort from one missed so much
A heron anticipating with every step
Kept thoughts of doubt until eyes had met

A bench awaiting a timeless memory
To discover a thought soon to find
Fulfilling heart where it was empty
For a smile the eyes had left behind
The heron’s guidance resurrected in mind

Delaying all words the eyes can see
A smile follows from a lasting stare
And the constant heron with a destiny
Stands and awaits observing the pair
While looking at one with obvious care

Witnessed a friendship beginning then
A mission complete the bird takes flight
While fearless lips connected again
Smiling eyes exclude star-crossed sight
Joining souls sweet surrender tonight.


Full Moon Instead
Heron as My Witness Part 3, 7/29/1999 10PM

Full moon, full moon intensely shining
summer scattered stars brightly smiling.
Sparkling dew on fields of bedded grass
surrounding a lake of glistening past.
No heron in sight to catch an evening’s meal
somewhere else loving hearts she can steal.


Dream Well
For N. 7/29/1999 10PM

A burning path through veins so deep
passions flowing making me weep.
Your excited eyes stare fierce into mine
conveying a message words cannot find.
Penetrating thoughts of erotic play
melting heat where our bodies had lay.
Two hearts at rest in sleep to dwell
spooning love motions of dreaming well.


Star-crossed Rejection
Heron As My Witness Final Moments
Inspired song Deception 6/20/2000 5PM

A breed of rejection
Must feed on deception
A belief of ones passion
to be more than it is
In the beginning
Thoughts overriding
A heart that was climbing
fell quickly for his
A heron's lookout
Told stories of doubt
She sensed the wrong route
that both had taken
Then guided sad eyes
To a place in demise
Star-crossed reprise
short-lived once again
A full moon one time
No heron to find
To witness in mind
deception of this twosome
But this was a warning
Of misplaced joining
Left souls in mourning.

end of series


Dream of Blue Sheep
For M 9/27/2001

Like a child
I fight my bedtime
squirming around
to not fall asleep
but conscience cant find
the Dream of Blue Sheep

Touch me
please
I'm a little girl
kiss my breasts
I'm a raging womyn
Fuck my pussy
like a prostitute of war
Make love to the body
of a little girl
Stare in my eyes
tears can't escape
They fled to secrete
and dampen the rage
hips in slow motion
like whales in the ocean
grinding & pulling
the girl still remains

Your penis swells
as you approach
my walls of honey

ready & soaked
tapping with fingers
and letting it out
we fall into ecstasy
together no doubt

Caress my face
and see the child
restless no more
she waits for your smile
So tell her the story
in whispering sleep
and how she will
Dream of Blue Sheep.


Stumbled Love
Inspired by Phil M. 2/19/1999

Restless thoughts
The beasts encountered
Vacant heartbeat
Hath love be stumbled
Grieving eyes
Of desperation
To forget desire
In all creation
Swirling patterns
Of broken dreams
Where they're heard
In distant screams
Of stumbled love
falling
falling
To a hole of messages
left unsaid
to survivors above
For they are unknown
to stumbled love.


Still Waiting
Inspired by Phil M. 2/19/1999

Brisk fire of rage
Tormenting souls of a relentless evilness
Provoking one’s thoughts
to torture one’s selflessness
to pain the mind to complete nothingness
Darkness filling a space
for only one love.


Afternoon Delight
For Robbie Rob 8 & 9/2000, 7/2005

A voice so tender and kind
soft brown eyes I see in mind
and a smile seeming sincere
but thoughts get lost, never to find

My visit for just this sensual sight
for him, a passionate afternoon delight
intentional bodies are shared
but attentiveness is the constant fight

Lost with words I speak too much
to ease his limp suspension
taking the blame for this touch
or lack of any to mention

Still confused, the time to go
sensing anxious anticipation
for me to leave and never know
the level of his humiliation

That voice so tender and kind
soft brown eyes I saw in mind
a smile that seemed sincere
reflections lost in afternoon delight.


Playtime
3/18/2000

Fallen to fantasy
Next door
A child plays
Stories once told
Dirty hands escaped
A tale forgotten
Unjustly forgiven
But the memory stayed
Her innocence lost
Next door
Child’s play


Tempting Sex
3/18/2000

Deceiving
Demeaning
Making light
Of what’s believing
Sugar-coating
the obvious
Underlying
syrup grieving
If all was done
Then all was won
By the hopeful one
And left me bleeding
a love not forgotten.


A Dried-up Lake
9/27/2001

I think I'll go to the park today
It's the one with a wooden walkway
to overlook
a dried-up lake
Lake Jackson is its name
The evil sinkholes drained
the water
and all its life away
and under
and out
and to the Gulf
They say it happens every 25 years
but sadness
a lake without tears

I think I'll go to the park today
The one with a wooden walkway
that overlooks
A Dried-up Lake.


Marching Chickadees
Rick, me & the chickadees off Raymond Diehl Road
2/15/2001 & 3/2/2001

And so it goes and says
Of one leaf falling
gently
onto his leg
gracefully
and a peaceful death it was

Then the chickadees come
one by one
hungry for seeds
she left to feed
to await their songs
of curious charm


Mania
A Wednesday morning 8/8/2001

I imagine
Outside myself
Naked
Upon the air
Adrift
In manic motion
Twisting and turning
My body
Won’t float
Limbs are pulling
In every direction
Like dancing to
Melodic vibrations
No pain
But racing
My brain
Cannot stop

Oh – I yearn for peace but thoughts embracing a continuous trot through endless fields of energy that yield to nothing happy but ah to sleep that I may rest someplace deep where floating is option and twisting motion will cease and every melody can find its source crawl back to hide the trotting horse
then all I've sensed will numb itself again I may be inside myself.


Silence
10/2001

In a field of dead grass
Brown consumes the worlds color
No spirits to dwell this space

In a land of absent life
Silence echoes the world’s voice
And loneliness accompanies fate


Pollution
4/30/2000

Missing are the treetops of man
Between mountains absent of song
Where life has silenced the snowcaps
And empty is the meaning of the forest

Missing are the treetops of the forest
Between mountains absent of snowcaps
Where man has silenced the song
And empty is the meaning of life.


Conspiring Birds Sing
To Mom & Dad Mothers Day and Fathers Day
5/14/2000 & 6/28/2000

Conspiring birds sing
Oh the inspiration they bring
Ah, but though
The songs escape them
Pressing further
Into a breeze of oblivion
Flowing through the leaves
Of unborn trees
Food for earth’s soil
Where roots no longer spoil
And let the rains toil
Down with the liquid which gives life
Up with the blossom that holds life
Then down with the autumn leaves to end life
But only to feed
Beneath
Encouraging the seed
Above
And continuing
Conspiring birds sing
Bringing life
To everything!


A Place To Belong
9/19/2000

The weeping willow dreams
Of a nightingale’s song
For contentment in finding
A place to belong
A tune to surround her
Like a sea to her shore
And breathe the sweet sound of earth
in a distant folklore
Once this is found
She would ask for no more


Surrounded By Love
6/23/1998

Soft and sweet with the bluest of eyes
looking up at me for a big surprise.

She waits patiently as I dry myself
so to spread her scent where it is not
just a shower then step out of the tub
I’m to sit with a towel she has taught.
So happy and humming with such content
she presses her paws gently around
expecting a petting on her sweet head
her scent all over now can be found.

Then a plea from my other love
“Meow, meow hear me” she sends above.

Her stripes so defined
her eyes so green
big and bright with excitement
her presence must be seen.
Checking the tub for water left over
her nose scopes up and down
noticing me and her sister’s content
she pounces right over not making a sound.

My little Loves are my perfumed scent
that protects me once again
so when I go out and into the world
their love surrounds me from beginning to end.


A Lovely Little Life
12/10/1998 5:40am

A lovely little life came into mine
more precious than gold or a gem to find
Her eyes so soft
with innocence and grace
her symmetrical stripes
that surround a sweet face
In northern Alabama
found a kitten small and meek
crying for a rescue mission
due to hunger and feeling weak
Now a real home with
three sisters to bear
warmth and safety surround her
a new life to share
her hugs and kisses
she freely hands out
after frolicking and dancing
and prancing about
So chipper and playful
and bouncing around
hiding beneath blankets
not making a sound
With silent surrender
she then offers a hum
tender paws press gently
to express appreciation

What did I do to deserve such a blessing?
That which entered my world and gives me life’s lesson
By teaching me love
unconditional form
this lovely little life
which gratefully was born!