Empty Your Vessel

Let in a drop of water
to slide down a parched throat
tasting a thousand years of
rusted swords, lost in the
mud
washed from the battlefield
as swiftly moving currents
stole away struggling limbs
silencing cries for mercy with
thunderous insistence

Outward to join briny waters
where deeply hidden
creatures created before marching soldiers
coming to rest upon
hovels and burrows
calling tentacles to
taste ruined flesh
and porous bones
leaving small evidence
of battles lost
or won
but promising adequacy
as cleansing waters
turn
struggle to dust
leaving only a
small remembrance
a ring of silver plain and glinting

love left upon a quilt
twice touched by slick passion
once folded, shelved
motheaten
(weeping still)

Thirst unmet
sullied with a flavor of
decomposition
too long to cleanse
blood, love, lost
to the untouchable
will of
entrepeneurs

Beside lakes and rivers
safely sought
camps built near
fresh water
beneath a universal moon
shining for
hope to bring
a new start
to
a widowed world.

Friday's Rap

Nothing’s flowing from my brain
Not a word to ease the pain
Dropped my pencil on the floor
Watched it rolling out the door
Rose to follow, grab it back
Cross the threshold
With a whack
Banging heads, you’re coming in
With my pencil and a grin

“Here it is now sit on down!”

Smiling still, despite my frown.

“Write of life and far off dreams
Plans and hopes, and crazy schemes…
Fill us all with sage advice
We will come back and read twice
Fill our hearts and feed our souls
Raise our spirits set our goals.”

Purpose hidden, tried to see
Clouded muse neutralizes me

Just need...

A day to fill with my own dumb plans
Making music anywhere I can
Free my heart and free my mind
Lead me on where I can find
Life awake and moving fast
Jumping in never looking back
Snapping fingers , swaying hips
Twirling legs, and pursing lips
Shoulders moving , paint the scene
Ribs a swirling in between
Connect this woman to the words
Find a voice you’ve never heard
Real and true and so organic
calm and fresh, no signs of panic
Wrapped within my own embrace
Flying off without a trace.

Dead in the middle

At the center of it all
Dead in the middle
There is an indescribable ache
That pervades and pulls the strength
Saps the energy of her faith
In righteousness
It cancels her firm belief that
Right and wrong
Actually exist
There must be some part of
What does not happen
That should
And of what should not happen
That does
For the innocent
Still perish and the blameless
Still bleed
so
Why would it matter for her to hold on to something
That might not be real
.

Love story

green leaf holds cool drop
of silvered water
shining
in sunlight
forgotten

slipping through
unnoticed as
sister rays
reflect back
into a crystalline sky

bewitched by a
smooth glow
captured there
awaiting the power
of a day's heat
they meet and
dance slowly
together

One to one
undiscovered yet
perfectly matched
drops allign
and hold on
tightly
boiling
slowly

escaping
vapor flies free
seeping
into air
joining with others
lost amidst
the fog

remembering still
searching always
among the sunbeams
for the perfect fit
a matched
pair

somewhere in
the sky

Rainy Day

On a rainy day not so long ago, I pictured you , eyes closed,there. I knew you felt the weight of the rain beating upon you and all of your responsiblities assaulted your mind, resting peace from your soul.

I knew you slept and it was best for you, but I longed for your wakeful self; for that small piece of you that I can claim as my own. You have given it to me whether that was your intention or not, and I shall hold onto it and keep it for myself, no matter the weather.

I hope you will not mind, but I refuse to give it back even if the wind blows us apart. It is by this small token that I will recognize you when we both ride adrift, after the storms have ended.

Daddy's Hands

Hardened brown rough
lined, dry, cracked....
strong

lift bales
pull ropes
grip hammer
grasp pen

hold on
pat
quivering
child

as I
cry
into
his shoulder

they rescue me.

Smoldering

Beneath the cold, white-gray ash
one more piece of
burning oak lies
hidden

remnants of lines
of woodflesh
old pathways
for water persist
burning orange
hot
not seen until
the ashes are stirred,
mixed, turned

unveiling
a smoldering
nugget
burning unchecked.