The Dark Forest

With a rucksack full of presents I set off to see my Gran
Never thinking of the road that lay ahead.
Wandered down the track; then bolted, I ran and ran and ran,
As a voice hissed "you'll be found tomorrow; dead!"

I stopped inside a clearing, clutching tight my ragged coat
And realised that I was lost and cold.
Before I could move on, a monstrous weasel grabbed my throat,
Hissing "When will men prize life instead of gold?"

I remember as a young man dreaming of falling in love
my dreams were for a special girl made in heaven above
the kind of girl you come by only once in a while
then she walked into my life with her precious smile.

I remember when I first saw her in the middle of the room
next to the dance hall, where we’d dance our love tune
and when we became friends how it was never enough
as I had already fallen in love.

dusting dictionaries

three dictionaries
Random House unabridged,
Oxford English,
and an old Webster
on a shelf --

being removed often --
perused --
best reading material
in the house

rarely need dusting --
they don't stay in one place
long -- always being used

dust is one of the words
found within them
soot, smut, powdery dirt,
very small detritus

dictionaries care not what words
inhabit their pages
lexicographers do

He is wrong, it's what we're taught ...

but were we informed?

Racist crap draped in artistic expression
is shit on the shoe of the human experience,
can the words be said without the added
punctuation of separation?
Shouldn't all forms be allowed,
should every shout be commonly heard,
should the offensive leave our eye,
or should we reach out,
handcuff the arm of the other man,
until all is forgiven, or one is swayed,
but then where would we be?

When winters' chill
arrives, via
an icy wind, so cold;

it's quite enough
to convince this man
he's getting far, too old.

The seasons' breath
will do it's best
to further make its' case;

by sharing an empty,
hollow shrill,
that gives lonliness a face.

With winter as
an only pal
that never seems to end;

I'm made aware
the trade's not fair
if I'm not allowed one friend.

a kernel mix…

Do see the pastries in the box oblong,
can you hear the starling shrill its song.
Could the mixture so perfect, be erased,
will we know life, where song’s not praised.

One a texture from a hand well learned,
the other a thing of beauty, hard earned.
Could mixture or song play to conclusion,
will we lose both in manic confusion.

What size the trouser press,
to fit the girth of more or less.
Stretch the fabric and split the thread,
tailors cry material wealth, not bread.

I awake to the ever-abiding soul song of life -
the sounds of mothers calling young in fresh near light.
While the timely rooster crows and colour spirits bestir
for control of the far horizon various hued inks fight.

Stirring to the florid smell of sated, calm earth
moisturised by Jack Frost’s recent fresh-dewed call
the distant gentle pound as ocean quenches thirsty shore
a serenity which darkness has settled over all.

I reside in the cold hours of dawn
My pain of existence intensifies
Crystal clear clarity pierces right through me

This hate I feel for myself
Freezes in my veins
Hot tears stain my barren cheeks
And scar my imperfect soul

They say you have to love yourself before others can
But self-loathing is already a part of me
My hostility and sorrow make me who I am

So should I just wallow in the egotistical train of thought
and persist in my hurting?

Susan and I have been snowed in for 4 days................

Of course you know that I love you
but why must you breathe so loud
and every time you come in view
I feel like I'm in a large crowd

I know my rocking chair is squeaking
thus disrupting your slumber
must your lips move so while speaking ?
and you snore like you are cutting lumber

What's that about my new cologne ?
which I use when I groom
won't you just leave me alone
remove Your perfume's cloud from the room

Some One Awaits

Some one awaits me
Far away in a land called destiny,
He loves me
Not my poetry
But hits a tick for each
He’s married,
A Gemini he,
I told him he’d fall for me.
He swore he won’t,
But yesterday he sent a note
Oh Love,
I miss thee.

None Lover Friend