collage 1

my life, a movie montage

my hopes, perhaps a mirage

my dreams, a crazy collage

–collage by me

lost hunting party (archives)

the snow swirled

madly around us,

thrust forth on

a bitter-tongued wind,

and everyone knew

that god’s icy breath blew

for the myriad sins

we had sinned.

and every man knew

he deserved it;

there wasn’t a one

to be spared–

and here we would freeze

‘neath the snow-laden trees,

but the truth was

we no longer cared.

we sat on the snow

in a circle,

each man but

a shivering shell–

we’d accepted our fate,

and now we would wait

to be warmed by

the fires of hell.

first fib

it

begins

with a fib

and grows into

an unforeseen web

of subsequent untruths.

our noses begin growing

like the lines in this etheree,

and it’s all a little funny because

we can’t even remember that first fib.

november pain

november’s a shock to the deer

who were born in the spring of the year,

for they weren’t told upfront

’bout the cold nor the hunt

nor the snow that makes food disappear

–photo by me

shot of the day 10/16/22

as an introvert

i feel a little

like the ripples

in a quiet stream

as compared to

the crashing waves

of extroverts

in rougher waters–

yet i know

that the world

needs us both

–photo by me

fall in (archives)

come along

don’t make a fuss

just hop aboard

the magic bus

and head out to

the woods with us–

we’re going to have

some fun;

there’s herbs

and mushrooms

everywhere

and wildflowers

for your hair–

the eager elves

and fairies there

already have

begun

–photo by me

dream wisdom (octelle)

and here i sit beside a stream

to look for wisdom in a dream

the easy brook barely flows

it doesn’t care where it goes

or what’s around the next bend

or even when it will end

and here i sit beside a stream

to look for wisdom in a dream

–photo by me

We Meet Again

Yes, I remember you, my dear–

How could I forget?

Your voice is a babbling brook

To my ears,

Your beauty is soothing

To my eyes,

Your fragrance still lingers

In my nostrils,

And your name is on the tip

Of my tongue.

–Photo by me

daydreaming

cotton candy clouds

float into my daydream,

as soft as goose down

and as sweet as the sugar

from which they were spun;

my weary mind is caressed

by their feathery fingers

of soothing pastel pinks

and hues of denim blues.

i feel like a fluffy kitten

in a cashmere sweater;

everything in my world

is just as it should be–

i love to daydream!

–photo by me

broken souls (archives)

crystal balls

fall all around

and shatter as they

strike the ground,

while silently

we march en masse

thru bloody fields

of broken glass;

how beautiful

the crystal sphere

a perfect orb

so pure and clear;

yet hold a shard

up to the sun

and rainbows shine

on everyone