Archive for the ‘Nature’ Category

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Leafy treetops

November 14, 2006

Stooped gentlemen bow,
Their gnarled knees bend and creak
Birds nest in their crowns.

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Winter is Gone

September 12, 2006

3/1984

Winter is gone
and life has not returned
replacing empty forests.

Memory is gone,
and emotions have run dry
leaving empty streams.

And empty streams and empty forests
give the world a pause for breath
before the sudden birth of spring.

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More cinquains

August 5, 2006

Waking
after his rest
the grizzly bear stretches
sniffs the air for honey and writes
new poems.


The coarse
bristles; his beard
itched me when I kissed him,
I could smell the scotch on his breath:
Father.


Grenades
would be so much
easier to handle
if they came with pins that didn’t
pull out.


Pull out
all of the stops!!
It’s my birthday today
(really yesterday but I’m still
part’ing)!

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Garden

December 11, 2005

Text:

Hidden treasures
await you in the garden . . .
Careful not to trip!

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Little fruit

November 3, 2005

Little fruit
of poisoned vine
you look for
a water source
with the roots
of your branches.

You will find only
dry riverbed there.
Once there was a
rushing stream which
carried water
past like miles
by a speeding car.

You ignored the
water then, like
we ignore the cries
of drowning sailors,
marooned at sea
by pirate ships.

You were used
to plenty but as
you’ve ripened
you see that
love is not
ubiquitous

or free or
nourishing.
You stick your roots
in whatever dirty soil
will hold them,
and as the soul

gets dingy by the
stink of pollution
you close off this
chapter, wall it off,
leave it in the
fruit jar, ignored.

until it bursts,
festering, and
causing heart-burn
or -break. Fruit
of my loom,
sleep the troubled

dreams of childhood
when your biggest
fears are big fears
and let me know
tomorrow if the
fruit remains
on the vine,

poisened and unripe.
Or, travel elsewhere
so you seek more sun.
Pull up your roots, and
travel to another
orchard where the
Keeper watches over you.

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Wrapped in spun wool

October 24, 2005

Wrapped in spun wool
the spider casts and reels . . .
luring the daily catch.

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Firelight – a 55 word poem

October 20, 2005

Firelight –
Embers flicker in crisp air.
White-hot center of the flame –
cooling to black husks of used woodpulp.
Standing within the fire’s reach,
heated air rising as the body’s blood warms –
shadow-dancing in the reflected light –
to the “hiss/pop/crack” of music played –
a cacophony of wood percussion.

Firelight –
hallowed haunting in the smoky Fall night.


Part of the 55 word poem series begun by .:A:. — although I am counting hyphenates and linked words as one word.

If you want to join in, post a 55 word poem on your blog with the following link embedded.

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