A still pond
padded with lilies
dappled with netted sun
Cicada hum
My green rest
Please-
pocket the stone
and let it alone-
I’ll paint you
as someone sepia
and fleeting
by this bower’s dome
***
Image: Pixabay
Category Archives: thoughts
Someday, your prince will come
I would make you smile
but I can’t
You want me to smile
but I can’t
Moods change in increments
One step forward
two back
There’s another can’t-
It’s the one about getting rid of crutches,
just now.
Shirt tales
Don’t comment
on my dirty shirt,
if you please.
I am not inclined
to change it,
lest I have bad luck again.
This morning, the sky
favoured me with gull droppings.
At lunch, it was blueberries
without a bib.
Then, coffee,
spilled by the infernal cat,
who likes blueberries too.
Unrequited
I fear I would be shy
if you were to speak to me.
I know.
It’s not a good look.
But I’m imprinted with your face.
I know.
Creepy, I imagine you think.
Each mannerism, each quirky movement,
tells a tantalizing story
that I am meant to understand.
I am sure of it.
Yes, I am.
Spirits
I’m seeing more somethings
in the sighing air
Distances to dramas,
beatific in their flash,
are shortened.
Though I once feared the fear,
lungs of sponge breathe it in,
baptizing its fire,
and I am well.
I am well.
Breakdown
I speak in tongues
sometimes.
Surely at night,
in deep sleep,
but now, of late,
in broad day.
It started with watery voices,
the makers of dream.
We argued, for sport.
But they’re no longer day blind,
and I mimic their lies.
Blackface
When I woke up
this morning
I laid there for a bit
Idly went to scratch my nose
then nearly had a fit
Someone else’s hand was there,
with skin of ebon brown
I ran my fingers through my hair
It felt like eiderdown
I went to find the looking glass
to see what face was there
Expecting not the veritas
that I was meant to bear.
This darkened face
this different nose
this cauliflower ear
that now replaced
my beigey rose
and filled me up with fear
How could I go out like this
and look over my shoulder
Walk in fear and maybe miss
the chance of growing older?
A man, a plan, a cabal
Associate with the simple
Learn what tickles fancies
Amplify, in bellicose bellow
Whip into a scripted frenzy
Let loose the sheep
who think themselves lions
but are infected with the surety of lies
and the enfeeblement of reason
Then cull the herd
to make them docile
Lightheart
How can you remain
so starlike,
even through this sorry strife?
You show here each day,
and give things away.
A funny word,
a pun or two,
a walk with you,
a curious view.
Lightheart I call you,
but know that I see
that your cup
no longer runneth over.
Would that I could fill it.
Imagine that
What does it hurt
to give way to imaginings,
at least for a time?
To close all the doors and windows,
pull the drapes,
and make some hot tea.
To conjure some moors
and wuthering weather,
hear a rap tap tapping
at your chamber door,
and the neighing and stamping
of white horses.
Aremyfeetofftheground 