Rain Today

(back here after 2 years!)

I’m not angry at the rain
gentle creature
pitter patter
on my rooftop window

Rain, oh rain
Giver of life
Aquatic nourishment
for flora and fauna alike

Rain streaming down
outside my window
gentle creature
one of the thousand miracles of earth

Reminds me of the fortune
that is my shelter
here in my homestead
I’m content to watch the rain come down

Hello World

I have concluded
young people don’t like to write
twitter = 140 characters
a picture = 1000 words
we all took that one to heart
the nature of how we express ourselves has changed
what ever happened
to taking time out
for observation
reflection
exposition
and taking a breath, and another
and another
now we can just snap
a photo
get on with our “lives”
and call it a day
but where are the reflections, and all important
observations
we’ve lost them
the picture has formed our conclusion
and broken our reasoning
science just doesn’t work like this

 

you don’t put chains on me

monument celebration 8 hour day. 8 hours labou...

refusing fear
of setting out and doing
what I want to do
I don’t need someone
to pay me
no one is stopping me
from using
those other eight hours of my life
each day
those hours are free
and it’s up to me to make them into what I want
and especially what I need
recreation won’t take me anywhere
except round in circles

Remember when we were in Africa

exercise makes you horny

it’s the right amount of sex appeal
the provocative colors
imagery, imagination, grace
what I need for inspiration
the simple poetry
lighting the fire inside
pulling me into something deeper
between the lines
where they hide the secret key
to my consciousness

teleporting me home
from any physical existence

Brigitte Bardot à un cocktail en 1968

what i am here for

Walt Whitman's use of free verse became apprec...

Walt Whitman’s use of free verse became appreciated by composers seeking a more fluid approach to setting text. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I want to be a poet
I want to be a poet
I want to be a poet
I am a poet
I always was
because I write
for myself
one day I will write for others too

Late September

Image

I stepped outside to clouds
straight out of an impressionist painting
dark ones, low in the sky
still not on the horizon
and bright, white cotton
towering above
the sun’s rays igniting
the wispy patches in between
constantly in motion
whirling, drifting
some at breakneck pace
others brooding, or swiftly sailing
across the slowly dimming sky
then upon arriving home
out my window
a curious combination
one expanding, like a puffer fish
or a balloon blown into by a clown
and others wanting to get in the mix
to mask the scene
nothing was static
and I was captivated by it all