I stand in my field
Looking up at the Effingham Sky
In this dark inky blackness
I can see my old friends
The stars twinkling like candles
In the darkness
They once guided me
On my trips across the sea
Orion the hunter
Big and Little dippers
Also known as
Ursa Major and Ursa Minor
Watching over us
Now they circle over
My Effingham Home.
As morning dawns
The purple hues
Shine over the mountain maiden
And gradually blend
To the ever-lightening shades
Of blue

Dreams are like a tapestry of life
A colorful vision of future and strife
A kaleidoscope of possibilities
Of joy and sorrow, love and tragedies

Dreams can show us our deepest desires
The things we think and what transpires
They can be our guiding light
To a path that's wrong or that's right

Dreams can take us to distant lands
Where courage, truth and justice stands
Or to places of wonder and fear
Where our imaginations can freely steer

After experiencing a severe,
albeit violent near lethal bout
of irritable bowel syndrome
(yesterday night August 30th, 2023)
triggered courtesy dulcolax caplets plus
healthy portion of lentils,
I (a beatle browed, foo fighting,
night ranger needing nirvana)
imperiled me to twist and shout
as a whirling dervish analogous
to F5 tornado bread a deep purple
to kiss earth, wind and fire
hopscotching across terrestrial plain.

When I awoke and sensed the nearing day,
the sun yet sleeping just beyond the moor,
I listened to the darkness slip away
into tiny cracks through the wooden floor.

The silent blue of morning brushed the wall,
and eased the worried shadows of the night,
while outside, I heard colors rise and fall
concealing waning moon with ardent light.

After Everything
(apologies to e e cummings and thanks to ern malley)
since felicity is first amongst the faculties
it wilt never
need you
to beam a fool’s gold
west of wyoming

when spring-time is in the World Series
my blood-hound aqua-planes, and kisses aren’t a better father-land
than wishes

Ninety degrees after dark
The sticky sweet aroma of skin on skin
Dripping steam down slippery window panes
Hidden within a sacred spot in the park

Strong hands through my hair; hold me tight
Breath on breath; my favorite aphrodisiac
Tucked beneath him safely; in a forbidden lovers twist
Surrendering to something so wrong; yet so beautifully right

About six thousand years ago
The sun didn’t shine and the moon didn’t glow
But now there’s a race on mobile phones
What the future holds, nobody knows

We know where we are but we don’t know why
We’re amazed as we gaze at the moonlit sky
A sense of wonder and a sense of fear
So, we mask our pain with God-given beer

About two thousand years ago
Jesus came with a crown, but had no throne
It was made of thorns not made of gold
Since those days, the myths been told

Dreams
A variety of thoughts
Bouncing about my brain
Making me feel good, bad,lonely or sad
Illusions

Fragments of my future pass
scattered across the miisty ether!
Cold dark mistral winds sweep by
to different destinations
my heart of hearts is given
in remembrance of memories presence
Finding peace in destiny
my own life but a flickering
,but in my soul I feel
a kind and soothing consolation
and wait for sunny days to come
with hopeful jubilation!

We were titans of iron,
Manning a mighty ship of war.
We stood the line,
And wouldn't back down.
We were groomed,
And trained among the best.
We toiled hours on end,
Training and prepping for war.
We were invincible,
Back in those mighty days.
We complained and moaned,
Of the inequities we did endure,
But now look back,
And realize,
How great we really were.
Sometimes standing days on end,
With minimal sleep,
And vigilant eyes watching
For dangers,
Real and perceived.