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Poetry

Freeze Frame


dark ragged
low lying clouds
heavy with rain
brooding
settling
over the sodden landscape
strings of birds
dark shapes
relentlessly driven
across an unforgiving sky
autumn rain
slicing
snow cold
directly into your bones
a sudden
brilliant blast
of glorious sun
chased
instantly away
fleeing
before the wrath
that is Autumn








Early Morning Rhyme


to see a white lace morning rise
and have the sun blaze in your eyes
through winter painted branches






























Gone Fishin'


by brown river
burble
shoreline lap
lazy ripples
roll and slap
on polished stone
and in the shade
the insects drone
all the long
lovely
day



















Black Cat


on silent feet
a whisper in the room
a flash of emerald
in the gloom




































Dusting Day

hesitanttly
I approach
the daily decay
that drifted
crash landed
on all
level surfaces
not wanting
to disturb
the accumulation
of history
dust of kings
and commoners
gently gathered
returned
to the earth
to fly
in the wind
God speed


























Memories


faded photographs
small pieces
of cracked, bent metal
showing images
of grim faced men and women
frightened children
admonished to
"not move"
staring out at us
daring us
to unravel the mystery
of their history





























Trains


there's a clang
and a rumble
a surge
of raw power
shakes the ground
you can feel it
in the car
the very air
vibrates
trembles
quivers
all movement
halts
waits
ponders
the behemoths strength
count the cars son
look
there's one from
Saskatchewan
there's a load
of telephone poles
Dad
when I grow up
that's what I want to do
the magic
of trains















Romancing The Snow


cold
wet
kisses
on my face
send
tingles
down my
spine
I gasp
for breath
then
bend
once more
to
the shovel



























Rainy Night


sequined strands
through puddles
of satin black
gleaming
on the rain slick road
sparkling droplets
a sliver of silver
in the night sky
a symphony
of street lights
played
on a deserted street





























My Home Town


Limestone
chiseled by calloused hand
now softened by time
holds its memories fast.
Ancient window frames
bake in the sun,
whisper
their stories
through countless layers
of paint.
At rivers edge
willows dip branches
in cool water
where wily trout
lay in wait
for delicate treats of mayfly.
Shouts of children
playing in parks
rise to the sky.
Old ones,
comfortable on worn bleachers
watch the game of the day.
Saturday lawnmower buzz,
fragrant smoke from backyard Webers,
rise like a prayer to heaven.
Our ancestors sleep
in shady groves
amidst granite and marble
while ribbons
of silver rails
and pewter streams
wind through their dreams,
through our lives,
through this town.










Night Song


night sounds
creaks and squeaks
little rattles
at the windows
sighing in the trees
then
a moment of silence
deep
profound
eerie
that wakes the sleeper
makes the listener
raise his head from off his bed
and strain strain
to hear
what's coming next
drumming
thrumming
relentlessly humming
with wet fingers
strumming
the song of the rain
beating upon the roof
dripping from sodden branches
gurgling in the downspouts
smattering against the glass
joined
in the melody
by the wild
shriek
of the wind
the night song
the symphony
of the rain






Silver Dollar Moon


a slice
of mother of pearl
iridescent
glowing
riding on black clouds
playing
peek a boo
between bare branches
shining down
on saint
and sinner
alike
watching
as lovers
and drug dealers
go about their business
that magical
mystical
silver dollar moon
























Hushed


a pin dot
of red hot
cold
lands on my face
an icy sweetness
on my tongue
a blazing host
of white hornets
streams
into the lamplight
a silent
weightless blanket
bears down
the branches
suffocating
swirling
blinding
white magic
separating
distancing
creating
separate worlds 










Snapshot In Time

Through the window
sunlight, streaming
on your flaxen hair
is gleaming.
You, lost in stories
bound by rhyme,
make for me
a snapshot in time.
Curled up
on the kitchen floor
you smile at me,
I want no more.
No camera
can ever capture,
only my heart 
feels the rapture,
of this one
precious moment
frozen
in time.
















Summer Night

Spread eagled on top of the blankets,
Clad in cool crisp cotton pajamas,

I am surrounded
by inky, velvet darkness.
The window is open wide.
There is no sound;
no buzz, chirp or rustle.
There is no breeze,
no movement of air,
just ... silence.
Deep dark silence.
There is no lightness of sky
to be seen
through the window.
The trees encroach on the house
blocking out the sky.
It’s like being buried
alive.









To Sleep, Perchance To Dream
Sleep dances on fairy feet
Always
Just out of reach
As the night fills
 With the merry-go-round of wishful thinking
And lost dreams,
Regrets
And disappointments.
Dark corners of the bedroom
Come alive
With past failures
Mocking,
Tormenting,
Ridiculing.
Your family and friends
  Loved you regardless;
 Forgave your shortcomings,
Real and perceived.
You can’t go back.
You can’t change anything.
You can always start over again.
Maybe it’s time
To forgive yourself

And get some sleep 




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