It’s nice to see all this green again. Just too bad it can’t block out screaming kids, barking dogs and loud trucks. Everything else I can put up with. Also have been checking out the deer and I think the fawns are really going be rare this year. Actually the number of deer that hanging around my area, has dropped. I don’t know if they have been over hunted or just found a better place to live.
This Saturday is the season finale of Doctor Who. All I’m going say about that is. I’m hoping that the story is a lot better than what was since Feb. Oh I have yet to find a show that I really like. Really bad this season. I think it’s time for Matt Smith and Steve Moffat to go. New Doctor and somebody else to run the show, another words, a much needed fresh start.
Another thing I’m looking forward to is the Indy 500. May 26!! Hoping for a good race and nobody gets hurts either. Too bad nobody is doing double duty by running the Indy 500 and the Coca Cola 600 at Charlotte. It’s done before and always fun to see happen. Maybe next year.
Took this yesterday after supper. Just love how the setting sun pass through the new leaves.
Ok I took this , just so I could have a little fun in Photoshop.
They were waiting for me to walk past them, so they could go back to eating the road kill they were having. Ugh! I know it’s part of nature but I had finishing eating about 30 minutes ago
Ok another poem for the group to try to make sense of
Oh course it help that my Muse sorta came back, not really helpful this week.
As for this week poem, well it’s one those I was like “what did I write?” And what does it means or trying to say. Maybe later on I’ll face what I was trying to say in the poem. Yet, I can’t toss it because I just love it for some strange reason. Plus I did spend too much time trying to get the layout to behave too. I almost gave up on it!! Oh well, that’s the poet’s life, poems that just don’t want be good, just pure evil.
So you won’t hurt my feelings if you don’y like this one. Don’t blame you.
***
God -
You need to be more thunderous with your love of us.
Who knows? Maybe a thousand of misplaced souls
will be saved or destroy, depending on your thousand moods.
Just don’t count and save this charming soul.
This she, rather be alone with the red sunset of a May 3rd.
However, this sunset was dress in the blessed bridal gown
of rain clouds and no rain fell upon me like the Holy Spirit.
Can the rain clouds be a bride to be for the night?
Alas they are not and no messages from above God
will dress up tomorrow acts of being uniquely sane.
No instead, the devil and I will undress the new day
from its holiness and the prayers that adorn it so well.
Yes God! You can chop me up and put the bloody bits
in your daily lunch of soup. Surely -
I would serve you better that way, one does hope.
Now-
Why must something pulsate like that, from my mind
and then it dare ask me – to spit upon God’s open hand.
What have I done? What has God done for all this trouble?
Say aloud a meek prayer for the souls who curse thee
for that’s all I have left now, standing before this world.
Then again -
At last Spring has finally open in my area! It was simple a beautiful day too!!!
You know, I would have prefer it if you had face the camera! And a little closer to me too!
Love taking pictures of these, just keep forgetting what they are.
Ah my ferns are coming up too. It’s nice to see the the leaves getting back on the trees. Bare branches were getting tiresome. Oh course, by mid August I’ll be sick of the green leaves. It was nice to sit outside to eat my lunch and listen to titmouse birds create one helluva racket with singing. One was really on the loud or ear piercing call.
So Creator, give me a few more days like this and I’ll finally feel like I got rid of the old winter out my system!
I just love getting my list of words on Friday night, especially with a nice thunderstorm heading my way. Hmm, some the line were written under my battery power lantern. The power kept flicking on and off. I figure too. that the coming storm would fire up the poem, I was going to deal with the bombing of Boston Marathon. However, one the joys of being a poet is that poem sometimes takes you to other places. So instead of poem about the tragedy. wrote a poem about God instead. But I did finally write a poem about Boston, still working on that one.
I don’t why, but God has been appearing in my poems lately. I don’t know why, I do believe in God, just not the bible version one. I find that one just too limited. But I’m not afraid to put him in the poem, sometimes I think of it as a type pray too. Sometimes I think he just messing with me after I quarrel with him for a bit. Hey, if you want me to believe in you, that gives me the right to argue with you. Trust me, I have many interesting talks with God. Besides, I can’t always argue with myself either in my head or in the poems of late.
So enjoy !!
*********
Where to take shelter, when the sly doubt
is the fellow to your left and he just smile.
As if, all were alright in the sphere of unknown.
Can I then -
Skip the next couple of wrinkled pages
that contain the latest bombshell ending.
Oh yes, I know the author spent months writing
and rewriting it so well, blood was see flowing.
God – I sometimes ponder that maybe you should
break that promise of new flood for the Earth.
Yes, call me a beautiful infidel my dear God
I am resilience against your fearful wrath.
Be brave and walk amongst us without the fear.
All in your fantastic glory and brilliant light.
Somebody please chuckle over that last line
and the spell of mood will shatter into a light.
Light – I can cradle like a an old doll, light that
can sing to those who seek and those who don’t.
But God – you are walking amongst us, at least
in the presence in the new budding trees before me.
So, no hardening of this I and others who prays.
Maybe both of us, are struggling against -
Ah another week is done along with a wonderful poem. Actually I have two this week, this week and the one I wrote two weeks and was still debating it’s fate. Well it was good in my standards, so it’s out the corner.
Today’s poem was written while I was on a pretty good poetry high. I have been revising poem for a chunk of the week . Sometime I sorta get a high or I should say, a bit a rush on it. Oh course constantly playing Depeche Mode Soothe my Soul a few time, was the icing on the cake. However, I prefer the term high, just suit my mood but like all good high, it’s total rotten when you crash. Oh last when I went to bed, yea, that was nasty crash.
Ah the life of a mad poet, yes don’t denial it. All poets are mad or is what the Muse whispers in our ear.
Anyway, so there are two poems for you to enjoy. One these days I submit a shorter one for the group, one these days. Just don’t hold your breath
Enjoy!!
****
Let us be bold -
Run that golden sword through somebody
on the left of you. Then find the ninth threshold
of your life but don’t sigh in front of it.
It’s only living accordance of the mighty rule
of other who are being the – Oh never say,
tempt not, who calls out a name with knives.
Who will unwind my life awkward tales?
Surely there must be a use for the stories
and the lies of a skeptical bitch.
And would the spring sun be slighted, if I ask
if I could desaturate its wonderful light of late.
Too often, it seems too false for the minutes
who circle the thoughts in attempts to jail them.
So onto -
Wondering who controls the fate of the flowers.
Oh so beautiful and so entangled with death time.
All beautiful things must be crumble into -
Death’s most wonderful outstretch arms.
Where is the love? Where is the concrete truth
when another lie hits your tired face at midnight.
Now, now – there are guests reading this page.
and I don’t want them sighing at the last end.
After all- I have still catch that rotten bastard of late.
However, fate has a magnificent flying broom
and end does love his joy rides on it.
Then onto the final question – where does the feet
take me in the hour I call for God’s answer?
****
Yes for tonight – let us say that the moon
is crafted out of white rose petals. All in their
peak of perfection and all being love -
despite the April’s 1st bank of clouds.
Then onto things that are lost, only need to
raise up their old locks and unlock them.
After all, you are their silver key, blessed too
for you have legs that can saunter away.
And why must love?
pits itself against itself
After all-
After all, you live once and love -
Ah to be magician, raise the black wand
and a rabbit comes hopping out the hat.
Except I’ll conjured up a sweet frog
and kiss it’s sweet wet nose and you’ll -
She just shake her head at those thoughts
along with the day being written with the rain.
Then wonder if the next full moon, could be once
be crafted from the left over white rose petals.
But that’s not the dream one wants to hold
and better to ground it into the his grave.
Ok the debate about this week poem is over. I’ll post it.
Sometimes I do write the wordle and then decide not to post it because the poem won the debate. Usually it’s because it’s just too personal or just not up to my standards for posting. Last week poem is still in the corner, waiting it’s fate. I won’t get rid of it, just might revise it later on.
One more thing, I’m so glad that spring finally has pop its cork. Maybe the mood of these poems will change. I’m doing a poem a day challenge, right now I’m just writing the poems and then in May I’ll revise them. Let one I can be good of getting rid of the bad ones.
Enjoy!!
****
Ah to be inquisitive and to have the ability
to smudge one’s life into a manrta of being alive.
Then there’s the urge to scream at the whatever.
Oh! let that merge with the afternoon’s poems.
All things need to be united and they will ask
the question when being separate is always better.
And why must I wander ? God I’m asking you.
Yes, yes- I know, you wandering with somebody else.
So again, the blue sky is projected as the map
and yes, the streets are so brilliantly planned out.
All marked out in their sweetest colors too.
But it’s with that blasted word – Alas, hanging like
hook in an old fish mouth. Just there, just there.
So alas, there is no mermaid sing on the rocks
or a unicorn being held by the gentlest of souls.
Not even a lone dragon, breathing simple warmth
on this one life I hold by the -
Yes, it’s better to sit at this desk and do nothing
Even now, the poems are the guns I hold and smile.
God will glide back in with another sorry for all
the snowflakes he caused and all else that cried no.
So life is being smudged into a mantra -
Yes be alive, that one street will come forth
all decked out in its wonderful colors
Even if -
It’s just to your grave, life is life and if joy
comes with the end. At least you lived and can
stand before God in the truth of knowing that.
