For My Urn

She’s done with this life’s body;

It served her faithfully.

And, though she did enjoy it,

She did, its end, foresee.

She died, then looked down on it

Without the sigh of breath,

And hoped that those who knew her,

Would know she’d not regret her “death.”

NaNoWriMo

Errors

I made mistakes today, in two’s

I made them in my walking shoes.

Though imperfection isn’t news,

Tonight, atonement is my muse.

So I admit to being a fool

To being wrong by my own rule

Errors, the search for wisdom fuel,

And I was not, on purpose, cruel.

So, I see flaws, to my own sorrow;

I won’t make those mistakes tomorrow.

I’m sure I’ll make their foolish brothers!

Just like my neighbors, friends and others.

Dream’s Message

Tired from the miles she did,

Her lashes met her lower lid

And in the blackness of sleep’s skies,

Northern lights behind her eyes,

Dream said, “I give you all the lessons.

Answers come before the questions!

I am life’s livelier extension.

Wake to dulls dreams, but pay attention!

Answers come before the questions!

Remember this to learn your lessons.

Knowing what you would soon ask

Is daytime’s most important task.”

Dagger, Cursed (An Italian Sonnet)

Sorrow in a wet, grey hood

I saw him from across the square

No honorable weapon, there,

Cursed dagger in his hand, he stood….

I knew him, and his heart was good;

His passion, deep, his anger, rare.

But revenge has slaked his deepest care,

What happened to me in the wood.

Gray drops from sky, red from the steel

Tip of Gaio’s dagger, cursed.

Gray. Despair. He stares. I reel.

Pale, his face. We face the worst.

Candles

(

Take this candle

Here’s another

Take a blue one 

Take a white one

It’s all over

You’re so sorry

Take a green one

Let me light one

Take this small one

Is that your penance?

Watch the wax run

Over, all done

Too many to hold?

Take this white one

Paid up, in full,

Cleansed, Right? Undone?

Just one more, two more

Hard to handle?

Bathed in light?

Would you like a candle?

Six more, Four more,

Four, for, not right. 

But somehow, you can still sleep at night.

American K-12 “Education”

Unschool me, please.

I will unschool myself.

Not from what little good I gleaned

From the garbage on that shelf,

But from the real point of it,

Designed by long-dead creatures,

Those foul “captains of industry”

Who took control of teachers

Who must now, to keep a soul-less job,

Convince their tender charges

That they’re unimportant, 

Wrong, and must conform;

Obedience, the archest goal,

Honing intellect? Not vital,

Just don’t deviate from norm.

Schools are

Obedient worker factories,

That really teach shopping and scorn.

Southwest, Star

In the sky of night

I must be someone’s shooting star

So comfortable in flight,

A tiny light, from earth, apart.

Plus Minus Plus

Plus, minus, plus minus, 

Plus minus plus,

The math of the substance

Of moments for us.

Things added, subtracted,

Throughout life and ages

Plus events, minus memories,

Inverted at stages,

Plus toys, minus toys,

Plus people, and feeling

Minus neighbors and classes,

Times glances worth stealing,

Factored coefficients of 

Variable moods

Grouped, simplified, and

Divided by food.

The unscribbled triumph,

A career binomial,

The elegant terms of your

Social trinomial,

By the great common factor

Of secrets you keep,

Completing the square by

Exponents of sleep

While the starlight properties

Of prime numbers, gleaming,

Orders your operations for you

While you’re dreaming.

(From the soon-to-be-published A Loop Around The Sun, Vol. 2 )

A Bit Of Strange

Announcing the unveiling of Vol. 2 of A Loop Around The Sun, which is soon to be published. This is the first posting of a poem from Vol. 2. (Kind of exciting!) I hope you like it.

A Bit of Strange

Turn the seasons inside out!

That May is dark and cold and gray

No reason to the cycles now

Perceptible, it’s just that way

Will trees bloom red, in autumn dress

And starlings hatch at harvest time

Will bees do dancing less and less

Will Winter flower the creeping vine?

This cycle now we have not seen

And can’t predict, or comprehend

A longer cycle’s edge has been.

A strange loop to begin again.

NaNoWriMo Update

So far? Crushing it. Like a beast! More importantly, I'm having fun. Word count is at 23,614, officially, here on day 10, with "miles to go before I sleep." The story is really good, too, albeit very rough. NaNoWriMo: an invaluable exercise in word surfing, and an incredible confidence builder. I'm loving the ride.

May I present ...

my short short story, (four and a half pages) in pdf format, suitable for printing or downloading for  your ebook reading pleasure ....

-*-  Reprehensible Day  -*-

Thank you. 

Purple

Purple marches on,

Red hearts in a box

With bits of magazines

Kittens on her socks

Facets become assets

Before it breaks, it stretches

Bleach and long eyelashes,

Gifts, gifted and wretched

Check it out, and chase it

Red shoes, paper rabbit

Eye it, back it, face it,

Can’t see it, it’s all habit.

A collage, a broken mirror.

Bit of puppet, or a flower.

A view that becomes clearer

And more deadly by the hour.

Tucked into a box to keep

In ribbon, chains and wire.

Buried deep beneath a heap

Of invisible fire.

Mitch Hedberg

If funny were a 

flavor, I’d sprinkle you on 

everything I eat.

Infernal External/Internal

Pale blue swath

Of radiation

Death head moth

Of my frustration

Isotope weather

And personal climate

A poison feather

With rage behind it

Disaster and

An accident

Much faster than

Attack, descent!

It comes down, in

And out. No win.

( From A Loop Around The Sun, Vol. 1 )

Time

My death is done, and done, and yet to come;

My life is now, and  now, and yet is past.

A moment’s not the bounce of stick to drum,

All occurs within the temporal morass.

I miss someone I haven’t ever met.

I’m proud of something I have yet to do.

I’m sleeping though the sun has yet to set;

Our dream, tonight, in years, may come to you.

( From A Loop Around The Sun, Vol. 1 )

A Little One For The Oceans

Waters are churning.

                The sea is brimming with life,

      And shining like diamonds.

From ( A Loop Around The Sun, Vol. 1 )

Obliterary Shifty-Foot

Can you write the tapping rain,

Or the cool and quiet gray?

What you forgot, that’s yet to come,

Or the eloquent refrain

Of the wheels within wheels

That make a world, a year, a day?

I can’t write the strength of hands.

Nor can I write the truth of will,

Nor the broken point of being.

Words are not for barren lands

Once in the heart but slowly spreading.

Yet I can’t help trying to roll them up that hill.

From (A Loop Around The Sun, Vol. 1 )

Visuals

Drawing veins and wasted, vast empires

I learn about the nature of the edges

Of the steep dissatisfaction, and desire

To observe affecting wedges of satire.

A landscape or a portrait of the inside

Of a moment or a feeling or a story

Brings me to a point, a line and, then, a landslide,

Drawing fine, or stroking paint, 

For wine or glory.

(From A Loop Around The Sun, vol. 1 )

Pasenture, or Aum

Here’s to the unknown peace,

The unrevealed contentment,

To future attachments’ release,

To acceptance without an amendment.

Here’s to the moment that is,

That rolls throughout all, and all time;

Here’s to being, to this.

To the fall that is also the climb.

Here’s to perspective of past,

To wisdom that grows on it’s own,

To the role we exceed when we’re cast.

To, before we were born, how we shone.

(From A Loop Around The Sun, Vol. 1 )