• Questions I Cannot Answer

    Questions I Cannot Answer

    Beyond the hills, the mean sun set.
    The color of blood had spilled and spread
    Across the sky, all ready for sleep -
    Innocence shred, I tried not to weep.

    A wall of windows and mountains beyond.
    We picked at our meal, not much was gone
    “I passed my tests – they told me so”
    she whispered with pride, what else could she show?

    The hospital famous for children’s care
    My pestering questions, I would not dare
    Disturb that balance we had achieved
    I fluffed her pillow, I still believed

    In modern medicine’s words of cheer
    “Hospital” is “Medical Center “: here.
    Through the long night, with jello and tea
    I watched from the space arranged for me.

  • A Discovery

    A Discovery

    Had we finally come to the edge of howhere?
    All day we had followed the shallow, meandering river
    Empty of fish, perhaps empty of all life, but we
    Drank the water – found it cool and comforting..

    A dismal afternoon. Pale sunlight passing through
    Clouds that peered in and out from the brown hills.

    It was Rose that spotted the horses. Three of them,
    Almost a family, skeletons almost, startled when
    They saw our signal gun. We had run out of
    Bullets long ago, but hoped it would make a would-
    Be attacker think again. It made the horses keep
    A distance between us. Their manes were thin and
    Stringy. It was doubtful if they had ever been ridden.
    Actually it was odd that they had not yet landed
    Inside someone’s dinner pot.

    Best to take care. Plants still grew around here
    That we knew were poisonous. Perhaps the
    Horses could eat them with no ill effects, but
    Their meat might be tainted.

    If something looks too good to be real, then it
    Probably isn’t.

    Words: dismal, meandering, thrust, bath, rose
    Locks, spot, horses, plant, bullets, signal, edge.


  • Ceremony


    Out of Africa, those ancient rites began
    Beneath the dark night sky, a candle lit
    By hand,
    Forgotten words broke the stillness of the night
    Unknown transgressions, were we right?
    To claim our own, our remembered
    Invocations, our share of the light.

  • Monument


    A small, abandonded meadow grows
    Near the center of the town
    Few have heard the story of
    This forgotten, hallowed ground.

    Forgotten, too, those men who died
    Defending unpopular beliefs
    Few monument now recall
    Deed of rebels and of thieves.

    Only those who dabble in the tales
    Of local historic lore
    Even they will be forgotten
    When they speak and breathe no more.

    This small spot of land now valuable
    (It is dollars that mark the cost)
    Who needs reminders of a time when men
    Believed so strongly in a cause that lost?

    Words. whack, hallowed, stained, unfolds, blasts, center, dabble
    reveal, skill, hunt, thrill, shallow

  • In Nature's Hide-away

    In Nature’s Hide-a-way

    Days have lost their names, who cares
    We have the sun to guide us
    When it opens up the sky, we eat
    When it nestles in the piney wood
    We party

    Meanwhile we guide our canoes
    Through the murky, dreaming water.
    Bears and deer spy on us from the
    Shoreline. Lazy old carp tempt us
    From the muddy bottom. All of them
    Are safe.

    Our camp is in a no- hunting zone.
    It is a hotel for tired animals. The
    Only hunting allowed is for lost coins.
    At night the stars lend us their glitter.
    All the creatures that ever were nestle
    Among them. We walk quietly along
    The trails. Our only lantern is the moon.

  • The Almost finish

    The Almost Finish

    A pair of manufactured lions guarded the main house. The rest of the buildings
    Sprawled helter-skelter along the hillside. They contained little of value – some small lumps of fools gold, bright and deceiving in the afternoon sun.
    The business, the manufacture of small houses, all laid out on the “Shotgun” style” that did little more than keep the occupants dry in a rain storm.

    The days of the visitors had long vanished. Millions had once arrived, where the
    Faithful prepared for the “Second Coming” It lack of appearance had lead to the conclusion that this was merely another false alarm Pieces of metal still littered the grounds after every heavy rain. By mutual consent, these were no longer talked about.

    To the millions of visitors who took the journey on foot, a long hike for all, it became a miniature “Haz.” The origin of that idea belonged to small, cheeky fellow whose people had originally settled the town of Cleveland Ohio. No prospects in sight, he and his kin followed the sacred way south, establishing a chain of motels bearing the lackluster name of “Rest a While.”

    It was in this matter that the world did not end.

    Words: manufactured, lackluster, millions, cheeky, throat, honor
    room, piece, shot, side, hike, lions.

  • The Players of the Game

    The Players of the Game

    Praise be to the players!
    Those who approach carefully
    aware of old attachments

    · Let the present moment
    · Be scratched in the power of the game
    · Each movement leveled carefully.

    Watch out for the single ones
    Those players with a glint in the eye
    And a spare key hidden in the grain!

    Words: Players, level, glint, scratch, key, single, present,
    praise, grain, approach, attach, key

  • Charmed


    Wish upon a penny,
    A lucky penny or
    A four-leaf clover
    Green and dancing
    In the grass.

    Praying in the dark of night
    Beware! The dreadful
    Creatures of the dark
    Silently watching -
    A plague upon them!

    Curses on all the unbelievers
    Those who scorn the tarot
    Let their blood run cold.

    Oh! Kiss me quick!
    Don’t leave me here alone-
    Evil is waiting to seduce us

  • On the Road

    On the Road

    As we approach the edge of the cliff
    The houses are farther apart. Soon only
    The ruins of chimneys point the way
    Disaster has traveled. We whistle through
    Darkening hours – the porcelain moon
    Our only light. Here fortunes have been
    Ripped away, the pit of despair draws
    Near – our wish for protection grows
    Stronger. We pause for a quick drink
    Of courage, the moon dims, we travel on.

  • title-18651292

    Spring Chickens

    I miss our hens – the self assured
    Way they would waddle, sometimes
    With a trailing tail of chicks.
    Sometimes not. Confident in their
    Ability to control the henhouse
    And chicken run and any place
    They might scurry to when the
    Chicken yard door was inadvertently
    Left open.

    They always knew where the food
    Was kept, zooming in on an abandoned
    Pile of scraps and leavings. Did they
    Cluck on purpose to inform their sister
    Hens or was it some inborn instinct
    That sent them into the place where
    the food came from?

    Winters were awful, no doubt about that.
    A teakettle of boiling water in one hand
    And a hammer to smash the ice so the
    Girls were able to drink. Never a thank
    You, few eggs appeared in January and
    Those were often frozen hard as golf balls.

    Summer time was chicken time. As one
    By one and week-end by week-end their
    Numbers disappeared. As the spring’s
    Hatchlings grew more feathers, we tried
    To keep the layers and the pets. Then
    Another winter, lacking in sentimentality
    And the coops final doors were closed.


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