Adventures In Copy And Paste I. (From Group Play)

  Narrative Poem Collection  

  Some Summertime  
 
Golden fields glisten from open windows  
as Mother and child offer witness  
beauty and splendor waves so soft by summer winds  
 
They smile at blue skies neighbors kites and butterflies  
it was attentions given, hula-hoop demonstrations  
wile my child, She thinks in glee letting laughter win Her over  
 
Echoes dance alongside home, green grasses plush, pushed along trucks  
they have sewn in memory a soft summers day  
She sets in shade secure with today that a son is safe  
 
Grown weeds offer home to burrow'd bunnies  
patch & thatch hidden rabbit hopping brothers  
They too own a Mothers smile, racing the green grasses  
 
 
 
 
Night At The Movies  
 
Teeth of the many demon  
crawl from bottomless pits  
searching the hearts, spleens anything meat  
 
They scream of fire, flame, torture, dismay  
letting out every essence of evil within them  
wild eyed claws, gnash at fleshed victims  
 
Storms brew thunder with winds to match  
lightning cracks to sky, silver streaks, fire  
rumbling with dread foretells and bodes ill  
 
Ripped into a hellish landscape, dry tundra  
craters break open , more swarm from bellied depth  
growls of the cenobite flay of fallen victims  
 
 
Deserted People  
 
Stretching miles of open highway beckon  
cactus flowers and needles dotting landscape  
we bake nonetheless under sizzling sun  
 
Smoke from the oven dents upon my hood  
red ocher, purple and white, craggy formations, tailpipe  
we tore that sucker off back a few miles ago  
 
Sands blow ominous billows like smoke  
wipers broke hidden engine issue and a windshield crack  
sunsets turn pink to twinkling black skies  
 
Pale moon waxing offering comfort, howling coyote  
flashlight without batteries, tire dropping down, we pray  
stars wink and fall, ones very wish disappears somewhere over cactus shadows  
 
 
Rose of Overgrown  
 
Notes of flowers wafted from the garden  
while I had forgotten the purpose keeping me there  
part with my reasoning, immerse, wile and stare  
 
Time closed sewn upon breast, slow chimes sing pour to trestle  
cracks alight by daily passage, warping wounds rip into wood  
wrap gently my vine, rail-rot under night owl, kissing flower given full bloom  
 
 
Mothers magic tree with its buried secrets, tales once beloved  
speaks in wind-chime, shape that she is  
Natures conduit, old arms and peace, spoke and wheel  
 
 
Trails meander over hill and dale, streams that glisten , gush in echo  
over there mushrooms grow underneath the may-apple flowers  
once upon a time the glow of love shone, we the age'd rose of overgrown  
 
 
Rock Bottom John  
 
A fathers yoke was passed down  
poor, depressed, sullen, unsure  
lain upon shoulders, pure, poor youth  
 
His worn out shoes with broken string  
hurt his feet everyday, seldom is there damn relief  
that thought blankets everything, wearing mismatched socks  
 
One bone carried owed to father, settled allotment  
hesitant he sighs awaiting first strike, as a new day betrayal  
no deciding factors, a phone rings Mrs. Dupree, selling bouquets  
 
John agrees, delivery and all those remaining, rhyming schemes  
hours later fresh flowers, scents of compliment, romance  
his wives eye woken, spoke at once, who's that girl to give you flowers  
 
 
A Morning Minute  
 
Sirens wailed as I slept past it all  
a convergence in overlay denying passage  
it was another cover, blanketed  
 
Of the screams, well those were mine  
what just had, truly woken me up  
my eyes wide, blood-shot and surprised  
 
Finally one eye whitened, simply survival of the fittest  
I spied my elixir of truth indulgence ...smooth  
begging forgiveness by means of worship from insomniac repeat  
 
Bones brittle cold sifting outside air  
wrings of buds with gems in their hair  
how I await the coming warmth, comforting me  
 
 
Some Guy Sunday  
 
Grass of dew green tomorrow  
tantalizes sparkle from golden sun  
elbows of grain wood into bone  
craft of songbirds sailing away  
 
Dreams flit under skylight maroon  
where oft it is that thoughts slip away  
grasped by slight, they wander by  
supposing the possible, once in a while  
 
Dates of due day, duty and decay  
small hour visage, relent and refrain  
draw upon minute with next days preamble  
following a possible whistle to do  
 
Florian awaits behind wet and polished windows  
stroking his jaw, more ponder and thought  
the concertina, jig and dance, spirits...clapping hands  
how maybe...well... not so far away, it won't crumble...wishes and tomorrow  
 
 
Manna  
 
Golden bars of sunshine gates  
entice entry upon possible heavens  
where arms of yarrow offer peace  
 
They speak of fields lush in green  
soft grasses, perfect breeze  
trails that meander settling soul  
 
I once saw delicate fruits  
drape by bunches, offering me sustenance  
of this I was grateful, closer to heaven  
 
Ribbons of rainbow'd joy  
bloom along hedgerow  
whispering endless  
 
Calm waters sparkle like diamonds  
speaking tongues, unknown knowledge  
it was wrest for just that second...sought again ever since  
 
 
West End Wagon  
 
Wagons travel over dusty plains  
shorn across tornado alley  
embracing point of deserts kiss  
 
Paints of shoreline ocean and sea-lion  
settle into the sands of congregation  
as numbers tally, tarry, tip-toe and drudge on  
 
Risen upon high the old man and the orange grove  
wound around the mountain by bag and brawn  
securing seed that set for generations , accumulated wealth  
 
A quaint church and brick-street straight-away  
flicker by gas-lamp, shadow'd by essence  
leading now to that sacred place they call home  
 
 
Sailing The Sea Toward Storm  
 
Humidity lingers whiffed along wind  
croaks from frogs, voice in pair  
leaves glint green awaiting salient delivery  
 
A Pearl sky draped to Mothers neck  
awaits an ocean tide awash by tone of distant black  
loom my tentacle'd creature with roving eye  
 
Scrimshaw etchings dug deep along journey  
nay Davy never locked I am but swept away  
pounding swill kneeing grog with the oars dipping in  
 
Passengers in lifeboats just float by  
speaking different tongues of flour and bootstrap  
they hail our ship farewell off and under stormy weather  
 
 
Holding On  
 
Wails from shadowed corners  
huddle the little ones tired and confused  
cans rattle, rolling empty floor  
 
Wear the toil heavy to sleeve  
fatigue, part to everyday, lingers  
she tends sisters holding hand  
 
Pollen flies through open windows  
adrift gentle breezes, lit hopes dream away  
her eyes shine remembrance father and fun  
 
Sobs escape whimpering mouths, little lips quiver  
brown eyes implore, as tears roll softly, last years empty  
hugs their only staple a big sister gives endless  
 
 
Mountaintop  
 
Freedom called out from cliff-side  
hiking stone to muddied path  
yellow boughs growing tall, wave  
 
Grand this view from up high  
where a stream flows waterfall down  
soft sounds of bottoms spray  
 
chipmunks chatter as squirrel play  
the diving robins and blue-jays  
fill my world complete embrace  
 
Say Your prayers having them answered  
counts everyone lucky and honest  
A woodpecker knocks, echo then silence  
 
 
Clyde's Triumph  
 
Smell of oil gas and flares  
came wiles down the 'ol dirt lane  
an island shoving You into existence  
 
Triumph black and nickel hum and thumper  
swells of oncoming boot laying slide  
Clyde with saddle bag rag to home  
 
was one nose in for fun and more  
bumped up swirled by rot-gut swill  
his pilots charting course  
 
spokes web down fleshed ink  
tentacled veins rolling earthworms  
following onslaughts for eventual wreck  
 
 
Great Moments In War  
 
Bearing down on the men  
with barrel and site, he smirked  
the gleam of metal polished black  
 
camouflage hid him and his intentions  
rolling over to a tighter corner, he waited  
logic says one or more will wander over  
 
taking a breath, he exhaled calm  
loving the feel of his finger on the trigger  
as a set of legs turns his direction  
 
drawing in tight with just a squeeze at the ready  
he squeezes back as it fires out, soaking John  
from head to toe, his trigger ready for more