Posts tagged: poetry

pulling sand to sea

the dappled daylight
plays pat-a-cake upon
her snow-like back as
salt and water trickles down.

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a little more

she lay there hoping
for another spoon;
just a little more,
knowing it too soon.

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the dawn’n day

push’n air, push’n power
the smell of powder strong.
sister moon’s sardonic smile,
she, casts her shadow long.

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worlds crash

light breaks
in flashes magnificent
and small utterances.

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pink corollas flirt

the skipping dirt
  puddles around an ancient tree.
  as a slow and winding breeze
pushes her to me.

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lapis lazuli draped

the moon hung there
    like cyclops' lazy eye,
    yellow against an onyx sky,
more foul than fair.

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that ginger’s drum

a staccato wind
buffets the horizon
and the pencil-like cypress bend
their uplifted arms keep’n
time to the rhythm.

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forgotten, unremembered, unremarked

corpses strewn on a battlefield
      like lacy gray leaves
upon an unyielding earth.

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then the azure sky

then the azure sky
    stirs
and after her languid night
wraps herself in yellow bows.

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power

    scratching sand falls
caesar and the gauls
    gnats fell elephants

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october

boo II

frighteningly beautiful,
  a frail teacup of a girl.
      —   changed
      all,
        ever

            — upon the anniversary of your birth, 2015

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boy!

join with us in celebrating
  opened eyes, clenched fists, quivering lips
    heaving sighs, petulant cries — anticipate the quips
nevermore can the thing — be just the thing
          — on the birth of my grandson

 
family


family-focus

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boo

words are fleetingly solid things,
  they sit upon the tongue
  and stammer out of old and young
     and like heaving lung,
        grab for purchase
          when all is gone.
  So, take with you,
    my dear boo,
      these lisping lines.
      remembering not my
      faltering tongue and stumbling hand
      for tho I did not always know where to stand,
        I stood with you,
            hand in hand.
      — your father, on your wedding day, May 24, 2013

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dr

like the slow/fast paced ticking of a film
    silently going by
why question the moving of the clock?

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mon coeur

Marching
    is heard in my slow, slow ears,
       like the tapping of snares in the
    distance,

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