A thousand years
Has passed again
And so
The comet nears
The priests prepare
The virgin lass
And now
The god appears
They play together
In the sun
He looks
Within her heart
And finding what
He’s looking for
He knows
He must depart
The comet circles
‘Round the sun
The god
Soon disappears
And harvest
Is delayed again
Another
Thousand years
O Morning Star
How you
Adorn
The sky
Yet break
My heart
For with
Your eye
Upon the
Morn
My lover
Now
Must part
I close my eyes
And breathe…
I’m floating
Down a river.
Slowly the river
Begins to
Loop lazily
Through forgotten
Valleys of
Timelessness.
Occasionally
I catch a glimpse
Of myself
Floating along
Around a bend.
I think to wave
But we both know
Peace of mind
Is to be had here,
So we breathe,
We breathe.
You get a raise.
You smile.
Your father dies.
You smile.
You smile.
You smile…
Endeavoring
To write of hands,
And all that they
Can do,
I found the thoughts
I’d jotted down
Just grew and grew
And grew.
Handy artwork
Digits ten
Prehensile palms
One for Zen
Call for peace
Without a word
Build a house
Flip the bird…
I’m overwhelmed
With hands and so
To finally end this rant,
Instead of listing
All they do,
Here’s one thing
That they can’t:
They’re very skilled,
But flesh and bone;
They cannot build
What must be grown.
On our last day of marriage
My ex-wife gave to me
Twelve beers a-brewing
Eleven burritos baking
Ten tacos toasting
Nine nachos nuking
Eight Eggos waffling
Seven sausage sizzling
Six hot dogs heating
Five bologna rings
Four fish a-frying
Three Ex-lax
Two sleeping pills
And a subsequent
Load of laundry
Employee of the Month Award
Around my neck was hung
The barrel of my .38
Was pungent on my tongue
A deadly glass of poison
Was lifted to my lips
The suicide solution
Was at my fingertips
But then quite unexpectedly
A cure for me was found
(The way she put her hair-net on)
I guess I’ll stick around
Dear, I’ll never care
If we live
On a prayer,
If our silverware’s
Just stainless steel;
If our diamonds
Are glass,
And our gold
Is but brass,
Just as long as
Our love is for real.
As I was walking home one night,
A thunderstorm blew in,
But I would not be hurried
Though the rain would soon begin.
Lightning arced across the sky
In splendid disarray,
And for a moment night became
As naked as the day,
And though the wind began
To drive the rain against my face,
I challenged Heaven’s fury
And I kept my steady pace.
The sky unleashed a deluge
As the wind began to roar,
And soon the blinding sheets of rain
Had drenched me to the core.
It wasn’t long, the rain let up,
The wind began to die,
And soon a warm and gentle breeze
Began to clear the sky.
The stars came out like shining jewels
Adorning Heaven’s dome —
The storm had passed, and now at last
I ran like hell for home.
The home-made cookies
He’d consumed
So eagerly before
Now lay in chunky disarray
Beside him on the floor.
His tongue was clenched
Between his teeth,
His beard was streaked
With red;
Yes, it was very obvious
That Santa Claus was dead.
The note upon
The table read:
To Santa and his elves,
We hope you like
The cookies
Me and Timmy
Made ourselves.
michaeljordahl 