Tag Archives: poems

Those Riders Four

I bring to you a scene. A fog settles over you. Sirens begin to sound. The sky breathes and heaves with fire and smog. You can’t find your keys, not that you could see to drive. A haze so thick and so permeant that you can barely see your reflection in the windows of a nearby house. A cacophony of sirens and horns that slowly eases into a low drone replaced by not-so-distant screams. You think you feel something nearby in the mist. Something breathing. Skittering, scuttling things in the…

Miasma

A diseased, pestilent miasma settles over the glen

A fog so thick you can barely see your hand

Ancient runes and sacred stones replaced by boils and pustules of horrid ooze

Peace is lost and hardly found

Wear a mask to hide your face

Prepare yourself for the coming race

The sage has wilted, mistletoe rotten

As trees wither and become forgotten

A swamp to take its place

Monsters march in malodorous mist

Forming together some demonic tryst

They watch and stalk you through the smog

You’ve lost your way

Landmarks vanish

Compasses don’t work here.

Everything gone awry

Their eyes watching every step you take

Waiting for your first mistake

Gnashing teeth and demonic screams in cacophonous harmony

Though hardly could you describe their cruel countenance

You must find a new place

Far and away in outer space

But first to win the race

And avoid the demon’s gaze

Another Little Love Story

Guten Morgen, Freunde! Every day is an opportunity for another little love story. Fall in love even more with the person you love, fall in love with the trees and the dirt, fall in love with air you breathe and the little tiny dogs you see walking in the street. Life is often hard, but I’ve said before: You don’t need to harden yourself to match it. Find peace in acceptance of yourself and all things. Find love in your heart where you thought it had left. Be softer and kinder to yourself and those around you. Never give up. The World won’t. Why should you?

It’s A Helluva Lot

Spending months away at sea

Leaving just the baby and she

Thinking to myself about the way they miss me

Hoping happy she will be

Coming home to see her eyes

Reflecting deep blue skies

And her love I need not prise

For with her I won’t capsize

Stepping from the boat and holding her

Hearing the machines choke and whir

And i can say with confidence she’s better than pictures

Sitting at the foot of the bed

Knowing that someday we’ll be wed

Thinking of the life we have ahead

I’ll one day leave this ship and be with her instead

I’ll give up being a sailor and be the one she counts on

I’ll wake up every morning to her smile with the dawn

Knowing when the time comes that i won’t again be gone

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