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Thy Divine Dinning Design

Golden Steps to churn the pot
One day is a hit while the other is not

Solid foundation
Yet no stones on top

Thy grey steps destroy the pot
Clear sight, yet blind to the skies

Divine dining only to die
Thy improper method to cook

The Boundless Sea

I wish to know if my spirit could be bound

Like the seemingly endless sea we found

Nobody recalls the beginning of one’s life

Stormy times we go through, amounts of strife

I wish I could tack from New England to Old

See all the glorious stories I had been told

Yet I can only see but the sweep of a gull

Above our boat and off the beat up hull

I wish I knew the meaning of you

Endless sea of greenish blue

Where storms, then calm, bring satisfaction

Where there really is no thought - planned action

The Day After Thanksgiving...

Half formed flakes of snow
like almost opened parachutes
spiral toward the ground
Splat, they die, melting
like the Wicked Witch of the West

The crows, already evil-tempered
envy the squirrels holed up
and plot revenge, for the first sunny day
Everything stops and I am aware
of the silence; forced by the shivers

Bedraggled pigeons, leave the wires
finding solace in the house of God
where the pastor forgot to nail screen
He is dozing by the fire, unaware of
the soft voices in the belfry

All her love...

She found me...
out along the path.

I was barely clinging to life...
stuck between the cracks.

Her soft hands so gentle...
as she carried me here.

She set me in fresh soil...
now many years have passed.

She waters me still.

Occasionally she sings to me ...
turning my pot on the sill.

Often she turns the blinds...
that I may bask in the sun.

But would she ever believe?
that I could one day bloom...

I wonder if she ever thinks...
that there's beauty inside of me?

Pando ( the tale of a Thanksgiving rooster)

Everyone is sleeping
as light slowly breaks
welcoming this Thanksgiving day.

I'm careful, stepping softly,
tiptoeing if you will...
hens nestled upon thier batch.

Into the coop I go, like a slueth,
beneath my feet the leaves and twigs snap.

This mornings' chill is warmer still
than the farmers axe upon my neck
and my tired eyes begin to close...

I whisper "farewell" to that old fence post, witholding my final call, I refuse to perch...
extra sleep my gift to all.

I Quit Smoking Last Week...Again

The moon grows full, as the night grows long and my cigarette grows short
Another 11 minutes shaved off my life
Like a boy scout whittling a stick to a fine point
With no point other than the beauty of the motion

I take another sip from my woody-dark-chocolate-mocha cig
I remember I used to hate the acrid sour stench that now fills my lungs
But my love of all things bitter keeps growing

A WINTRY AUTUMN IN CANADA. NOV CONTEST

You make one feel
like a young woman indeed
roaming in the Garden of Victoria
on an evening wintry cold nude absolutely

no fear of Adam’s spear
he was meant to sow without fear

seasonal youth has since evaded
we have been with snow loaded

leaves buds and petals
have all suddenly withered away
comes autumn now our way
smearing all fragrance astray

colorful hues go away whom, does autumn bare
as if she was another one
of her lovely womanly ware

Christmas -ish. Haiku -ish.

A coddling of eggs,
emptying of Santas sack,
an old bird well stuffed.

Obi.

Santa

I wish that Santa was still real,
Grandma and Gramps would be here
and Dad and my sister Anne,
Pal too my beagle hound.
They all taught me what loving is.

I wish Santa was still real.
The trip to Grammy’s and Pa’s
was a thing to wait for each year.
The entire family there,
all nine uncles and aunts,
and my cousins.
A potpourri the result of love.

Tranquility

I'm done with this! " as I hit the snooze once more..

tired of the daily grind.

Proposals,, meetings, and impossible deadlines...

" I'm tired of Mr. Brigg!"

Investors, portfolios, airports, even the hotels.

Not one more fancy dinner with a gold digging gal...

or wingtips and sport coats or black tie events.

"Tonight is the night !"

I'm going exit this penthouse
and turn out the lights....

back down that lonely road
far from this crazy life.

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