Cynthia writes a poem
about the tigress being a lady,
I ask out loud, what choice
do us mere mortals have
between the tiger and the lady
when the tiger
is the lady?

Howsoever the snarl of victory
resonates
I am guilty of the unholy state
of digress,
baring my teeth and purring, changing my
stripes into miles of one-way smiles, stealing the lust
from your eyes and making it mine.

All mine.

Ah! How blue I am without you,
my colors have lost that vivid hue.
Dark black become my days
and hazy grey paints through my ways.
No light of hope, but fading whites
daily grow with misty twilights.
Greens no more pass my meadows,
only the orange shades and the yellows
are seen in the falling leaves of my trees
while sadly they shed like tears.
No shades of brown for which I die
all are stolen in the hazel of your eye.
Now, please say you're coming soon
so my colors ,again, can sing a happy tune.

Coma static call
from the broken phone down the hall

I can hear you
your whimper

the same moon shinning bright
on us
your thick legs of winter beneath
your grandmothers quilt

fog mist hand stirring our hearts
your breasts against my chest
black birds echo
the etch of pines at the great bank
of the valley decline
makes me shiver

connect
the static hiss
of our careful silences

the longing measured
between us

you always cry
sobbing
broken hearted

The head of our house said to me
On the day we met at the bar
West wind will bring a sudden change
Taking our woes with it away
Those who heard him thought he was drunk
Darkness hung on the path we walked
Air polluted by billows and burns
We are tired of hearing bomb blasts
We are sick with shame of bloodshed
Seven bad years are not forever

I built my door of iron and oak
it's thick well made and square.
The latch lifts with a creaky stroke
should I choose to go out there.

It has but a single tiny pane
through which to see the world outside,
to watch the sun or snow or rain
while I stay safely here and hide.

The frame fits tightly all around
barring air when winds blow cold
and admits only muffled sound
should sleet or hail drum loud and bold.

BEYOND HORIZONS
Into violent waters
deep I fall
waiting for the calm
I know will never come

I long to be
on some distant shore
in safety’s keep
beyond horizons far
to sleep
and dream as before.

The barbecue is all set
A new chef in charge of meat!

He’s cooking up a new recipe
They’ll really have a treat!

Of course, it’s a secret recipe!
It couldn’t be any other way

And as long as they don’t know it
He knows just what they’ll say

This stuff is so damn tasty!
Can I have your recipe?

“I’m sorry folks, it ain’t happening
It belongs to only me

Enjoy the tangy sauce I made
Wash it down with beer

The kids need another burger
Put your plate right over here

With winter comes the final feasts
the ending of a worn out year
and seeing far through naked woods
breathing air that's cold and clear

but..........

Monochromatic soon grows old
too little color in the world
too many numbers in the power bill
late winter....season of death
......by now I like the winter less

At long last life returns with spring
pastels in 'most every shade
that first day of short sleeves
with luck worn on a fishing trip
all is well

Until...............

lengths of silence
like a dream beneath the skin
of sky
the vault of articulation

the tradgedy of speaking

longing donor words
escaping
slipping up the valley stream
brilliant as a forecast
impending as love
fractured
and set with love struck
aching

grip me this granduer
captured
I feel the candour
turned about
an interest
fasting

losing reflections
for the flare of
amazing attributes

the mists from
broken mirrors

Sand-like cliffs reaching up as towers
their sole purpose, but to measure hours,
feels a though I'm stuck in a cage
resulting in more visitations with rage;

There's not enough drink to fade it away
and too much left to quit it, today.
A good woman could help me put it down
but, there doesn't seem to be any of them, around.