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Archive for May, 2010


 
Ageing gracefully
Is a venerable pursuit
Unfortunately
For me and you
There is just
No future in it
Unless there’s room
In Linen’s tomb
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The smell of distant grilling
Comes through the open window
A sweet smoky smell
Reminds me
I have not eaten

It is late morning
And I hear the faint tinging
An incoming call
I hesitate to answer
Wanting no new news today

Some how
The thought just hits me
That you are dead
Life has this way of culling
Like the owner of a heard

Picking through the mass of life
One, over the other
Too fat, too old, too sickly
The phone keeps ringing
Like some ever-present mooing

I turn off the phone
And consider Bar-B-Que for lunch

Now for those of you who prefer to reread each poem…

The distant smell of grilling
Comes through the open window
A sweet smoky smell
Reminds me
I have not eaten

It is late morning
And I hear the faint tinging
An incoming call
I hesitate to answer
Wanting no new news today

Some how
The thought just hits me
That you are dead
Life has this way of culling
Like the owner of a heard

Picking through the mass of life
One, over the other
Too fat, too old, too sickly
The phone keeps ringing
Like some ever-present mooing

I turn off the phone
And consider Bar-B-Que for lunch

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The stark, stark voice of regret
Cold and fierce the sweat
Of stark, stark regret

How sad, to be lying here
Full of stark, stark regret

I had my reasons. Oh you bet!
But none, so strong as regret

Once I felt warm and sublime
I saw not, my duet
Now from where I lay, out of time
And, in such clear reflect
Of my stark, stark regret
Except,
The stage is set

So this, is how I will look
When, they come in to see
My regret, has run out of me

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Could there possibly be

A Moon in your darkened sky?

How will you see

Where the edge of my heart stops

And the reach of your touch begins

Simple light from my Moon

Will shine in the stars

In your eyes

So that

We’ll

Know

Each others light touch

So to enjoy the darkness

Inside our clenched eye lids.

 

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When you were an inspiration of excess,
I sat on the side lines and wished.
But there was no way
I was going to risk rejection

You had it all, great looks,
personality,
love for life,
Style

The best I could do was hope,
Hope that you would notice,
Take charge.
That was not your method either.

For the longest time I hoped
You and I could become an item.
Even when I was lucky enough, to
Ride next to you in your
Mustang convertible,
I was unable to show you what I felt

Now we are both living in separate arrangements.
You in your fast fashionable lifestyle,
Me, in my small safe world of ink and paper.
Micro components of life.
A life of half measures
And full regrets.

TreeSpirit

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So Sorry


The last time you held my magical thoughts
In no mood for what you wanted me to hear
You made one of those insipid
all encompassing statements you’re famous for
With out a second thought, I said so

I am sorry for that

Now as I fidget with the medal, of your pride
A stain of angst sours in my gut, draining me
Pulling my energy from inside out
There had to be a bit of envy, but now,
It’s bronze dull, ribbon faded, meaning lost

I am so sorry for that

With no more concern than a puppy
You stood and performed, despite the concerns
The rumors, the accusations,
We did not, lost our cool, dropped out
You stood, a prideful grin, ignoring it all

I am so sorry for that

Dust layers on the memories of those times
Most of the critical elements, forlorn
And with no more grudge than a young puppy
I extend my hand, to lay a dull medal
Where all can see that you stood strong

And I am so sorry

TreeSpirit

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A tremendous act of kindness, by him brought love about
For on a cold and blustery day the passions acted out

A Sunny day shown down that perfect April morn
‘Twas damp with chill, on wintry night a tiny lass was born

Her papa was a strapping lad, who never shirked from chore
Upon her mother’s aching heart, they sent him off to war

Their hearts were locked in mindless bliss, that Spring upon the heath
Too soon their deed tore all apart, mid silence bound to keep

With sturdy limbs, bright eyes of gray and hair of tousled curl
Much interest in the child turned, who’d fathered such a girl?

The letters came to cheer each day, upon the sheath, no mark
But day by day each soldier’s fall, revealed his beating heart

Sublime the day the war had passed and soldiers all came home
But not for those whose caissons rolled, her secret love be known

For in first days with lists at post of lads who marched no more
His name did cut the paper white, with ink her heart it tore

Still letters made it to her eyes a mystery hand had sent
As only one could even know from whence their passage rent

And on a day as fair as most with child by her side
She wed the deaf mute postman, who wooed the widowed bride

TreeSpirit

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