All is lost, Nevermore?

Afternoon, my esteemed friends and allies! Tell me, most honorable compatriots, what do you do when you find yourself on the precipice of something greater? Do you look upon yourself or do you look out across the great expanse that lies in front of you? Please enjoy the first of two poems I will be serving up today, written in the interest of finding one’s self.


Love and War

fair’s fair in love and war

but why must love and war be one?

when love is one and war is won

all in all it should be done

it is written, it is written

something, something, oh so smitten

having but a single mitten

not even sure, if we fit in

pitters and patters

on the rooftops 

it’s shaping up

it’s all in tatters

going to the corner store

buying with your dollars four

a beverage which you’d like to pour

down your throat

to forget

always, always, always remember 

the way it was, in december

all is lost in love and war

won is lost and one is more

Playing in the Snow

Good morning, everybody! Another wonderful day filled with cold. Good luck to everyone–I hope no one loses power today. I have another little poem today that’s in the spirit of an icy snow day.


Ice man

these fallen timbers

sum of somber shivers

it is very cold out today 

almost makes you want to wish the snow away

silent snow, nothing to say

these cobbled stones

amid avian tones

clocktower. clocktowers. in the distance

ticking. tocking. across the expanse

something, somewhere has put you in a trance

how frigid the sights

how tasteful the noise

something in the rearview bites

acting with spectral poise

hungry for more

but oh so sore

play that fiddle boy

but careful now, that’s no toy

you best hope to bring me joy

Feb 3rd, 2022

Well, today’s my first post. Weird to me to be actually posting these somewhere. I wrote this one this morning while I watched the cold overtaking the street outside.


Nightmares

streetlights hang over freshly fallen snow

it’s quiet, so quiet…

crystal falls, no seeds to sow

there’s something there, can you spy it?

fields of ice and billows of cold

as birds go south

searching for some hand to hold

finding naught but downturned mouth

lying there, asleep at night

frigid, freezing

dreaming, discouraged, with all your might

something seen, not so pleasing

frozen branches

play with windows

missing tranches

and biting wind winnows

legions of little limpid structures

covered street and hiding stone

slipping and sliding at all the junctures

spied through the window, all alone