Purifying Insight

The purpose for my

existence is more, I pray,

than to offer up

the detritus of my soul,

raw impure dross, or

spirit crucible polished,

into some gleaming,

shining gem of linguistic

legerdemain that

I cast into the cosmos

in hope of building insight.

Cubical of Tears

Dusty detritus
stashed away to molder.
Tattered remains,
a sad tangible hallmark
Of a life and home
full of love, hope, dreams, sorrow.
Every item
a treasure, worth less because
its story will be untold.

Remembering Jasper Vinall

Words can not express
The sorrow that arises
When fun ceases and
Horror bowls us over and
A game ends in tragedy.

~

~~

~~~

~~~~

* this poem was inspired by, and is dedicated to, Jamond Salley and the seven other American high school football fatalities this fall and the recent death of Australian Batsman Phillip Hughes.  Why must the pursuit of pleasure bring such pain?

Brisk Winds, Raise Ire

After the calming
peace brought by the setting sun,
whispering breezes
returning overnight rise.
The dawning brings more whitecaps.

Still Waters, Cool Heart

At the end of day

peace comes with the setting sun,

stilling the water,

calming the mind, and cooling

the passionate heart

that burned in rage at the

dawning of this day of thanks.

Hatfield Family Thanksgiving

Cooks come together
Brewing chaos as they cook
Family fuses
Relit by proximity?
Or with intent? Who can say?

Watermark Willow

Rooted in one place,
Willowy earthbound dancer
Undulates under
The caress of Winter’s breath
Enshrouded in veils of snow.

Reasonable Doubt

I’m not a poet.
I just do not take the time
And you all know it.
When I fight to force the rhyme’s
How I blow it. It’s a crime.

Thanksgiving Cheer

To the tune of “We’re off to see the wizard”

We’re off to see the in-laws
And that always gives us pause
With all our beliefs, they are at odds
Because they’re such unbelievable clods!

So we’re going to buy the liquor
The wonderful beverage of gods
Because because because because because
Because of the wonderful numbing it does!

We’re off to see the in-laws
For all the bloody good that it does!

Mother! Please!

I was five when last she did it,
After dinner in some restaurant.
I remember throwing a fit
For receiving attention I did not want,
In went the washcloth, to the water glass
And scour away at some smudge
Upon my cheek. Humiliation, alas!
Am I that unclean? Who’s she to judge!

The alarm went off! Blessed relief!
Vile dream, its course had run!
That it could be true defies belief.
After all, I’ll soon be fifty one!
Yet upon awakening, I find a nightmare’d just begun.
What I thought was washcloth is Golden Retriever tongue.

Unwelcome Wisps

It curls from the edge
Turning and curling upward
Little wisps of smoke
Seep and creep and drift up
Skyward, from the kitchen stove.

America! Get Off the Path!

“Fear leads to Anger.”
Hear the small green muppet say!
“Anger leads to Hate.”
And “Hate leads to Suffering.”
Must this be our chosen road?

Comfort’s Quest

Like the gray weather

foggy fingers shroud my mind

pulling, beckoning,

drawing with promise of peace

in the soft blankets of home.

Image source: http://www.mindbodyspirit.co.uk

ERUPTIONS

Ignore history
You may. Be unprepared
For the explosion.
Or you can learn to make note
Of pressures, heed warnings, Live!

79 Vesuvius 25,000
1792 Unzen 15,000
1815 Tambora 92,000
1965 Watts 39

1883 Krakatoa 36,000
1902 Pelee 29,000
1980 St. Helen’s 57
1982 Los Angeles 53

1982 El Chichon 2,000
1985 Nevada del Ruiz 23,000
1990 Pinatubo 800
2014 Ferguson TBD