Life can be like
a paint palette
that fell to the floor,
where all the colors
are separate but bleed
into each other,
creating a maelstrom
of chaos that is both
beautiful and frustrating…
Category: Free Verse
Poetry that does not follow a rhyming scheme.
Morning Routine…
I walked into work today, just like
every other day (Monday through Friday
that is, unless on vacation, or sick, or…
yeah, those exceptions could take a while
to list), set my coffee cup on the counter
at my computer, shook the black tailed
mouse to wake up my PC from it’s nightly
slumber, slumped into my chair (ok, fine,
I plopped) and waited for my day to begin.
Sardines…
Sardines brined and packed
inside a tin can, separated
from the life we once lived.
The ocean calls, go forth!
The klaxon rings as the tide
catches fire and runs red.
“War, boys! This is it!”
This is what we’ve waited for.
This is what we’re trained for.
Rockets glare like comets
streaking across the night
as the tin can bare’s its teeth.
Then, as the shore shimmers white,
with fair winds and following seas,
each sardine walks his own plank.
Still brined, but no longer packed
inside the tin can. Yet, still separated
from the life we once loved.
Genesis: I have always said the thing I hated most about serving in the Navy was being deployed and the thing I loved the most about being in the Navy was being deployed. This poem is birthed out of that oxymoron.
A Different Drum…
His feet bang and clang in a bat-a-rang sing-song style, while his heels heave heavy upon battered metal with no apparent rhythm.
His untied laces and muddy boot faces mark the derelict work shoes that are one size to many, but for a penny, they will just have to do.
But there he rests, up on top the chest, with the handles to drawers planned for his comeback encore while his dad yells from the other room.
Raindrop…
A rain drop hit my forehead today
And as I reached up to wipe it away,
It rolled down the bridge of my nose.
Trapped between nose pad and skin
It was too much effort to try and get
Because I’d have to remove my glasses.
Besides, the coolness from the drip
Nestled on my nose was enough to
Make me feel just a touch cooler.
In Another Room…
Kathunk
Wheeze
The machine helps him breathe
as he slowly dies
alone
in another room
***
Softly Up Yonder…
Softly, up yonder in
the grey and blackened night.
Where flashes jump and play
and clouds they make so bright.
The crashing with the rumble,
the gnashing and the grumble,
rock the world so violently
with its’ monstrous fight. Continue reading Softly Up Yonder…
On Cadging…
Echoes of Sin…
I remember feeling…
…feeling something.
Something other than pain.
A faint echo…
Echo of what?
Of what love was…
Of what love is suppose to be.
No more.
No more.
Replaced and refilled,
gone with a gust of wind
that blew hot on the
asphalt and ignited
my life with fire.
Burning bright,
a solitary light that…
that what?
That shines a spotlight,
lighting my weakness
and reveling in revealing
my sin.
A Flash of Fiction... 