The frosty air,
chilling as death!
Ice hard as stone!
Plaintive wind howling.
Lone farm house,
light from the kitchen window
spilling out over the snow.
Farm wife bustling about,
coffee perking on the stove,
warm aroma of
scrambled eggs, flapjacks
and sweet maple syrup
floating through the kitchen!
A warm oasis of life
amid the empty
If life begins its run at one o'clock
and youth gets settled in a quarter after,
adulthood takes in stride its bold tick-tock
a happy half-turn from birth's gurgling laughter.
Nor need we care or otherwise take stock
of any here or there, or hereinafter,
or fear the cuckoo down the line will shock
us with its coming hour's burgling laughter.
But when the small hand noses toward the two,
we cease to weave the yarn that time has spun
and starkly mark the ticking left to do
before the ticker tells us that it's done.
And we can hear the chirping cuckoo mock
us when we end our course around the clock.
to lands unknown
far from our boring,
over the shining waves
to ports afar,
to magic cargoes
of jewels, gold and spices,
of ivory, apes and peacocks,
where romantic adventure calls
in exotic lands of mystery!
sails puffed out,
racing before the wind,
cresting the rising swells,
free as free can be!
Wide eyed with wonder,
there is a lovely young woman
in a charming portrait,
she is dreaming dreams
and seeing visions,
not unlike Alice,
Through the Looking Glass!
Seeking the magic
of the Fairy Queen,
the lost lane end,
the happy turning,
the dreaming spires of
an exotic, alien planet
of mysterious adventure
beyond the farthest star
or at the hidden ends of the earth
or in its hollow core or ocean depths
far from the weary workaday world,
where dreams come true
and happiness is complete!
"I'm not free," she told him, brushing aside
brash importuning, like loose strands of hair.
"Neither will they win me with misty-eyed
murmurings of need, or wrath's steely glare.
I'm not easily intimidated,
and whining doesn't mean you care. I heed
only suitors who have demonstrated
wholehearted commitment in word and deed.
Nor am I seduced by the sly, shark-skin
smoothness of moneyed men in business suits,
or roughnecks who hide behind masculine
posturing. Let them bed with prostitutes
and sleep in borrowed dreams of ecstasy
until their time is through. But not with me!"
Rapid fire will inspire me to higher things.
Going crazy, shunning lazy, thoughts so racy bring.
If I stumble, all will crumble down to bumbledom,
Then momentum that I pensioned will to dead end come.
Must complete all, dare to not stall, lest my world collapse.
Cannot loosen 'cause this noose entwining doesn't snap.
Energetic or pathetic? None but medic knows,
For my dervish may seem feverish till my switches blow.
I continue on my voyage
into the starry sea
to where the phantoms have beaconed me.
As Earth tones twinkle
dark clouds drift and sprinkle
all around up and down
the purple harbor.
The harbor in the stars,
a port for silver bars--
a harbor for aliens in the sky,
across the galaxies where all the angels fly.
A harbor where kings,
spaceships, gods, and demons meet,
Oh, you sweep me off my feet
my darling sweet
but it's wisdom I seek before I sleep.
Filled with enlightenment
a glowing orb swoops down from above,
fill’d with both Heaven and love.
It takes the form of God, Jesus, Buddha--
and then a dove.
"Come at dusk, I must,"
is what he said to me.
"Come at dusk, I must,
he will speak to you and me."
I went home the other night--
to the place
where the peach blossoms blume
in spring's eternal shade of blue.
A place where musical skies
shine in your bright eyes...
Silver days fade my way,
calm autumns and winter reminders,
sunsets and dream finders.
Orange blossoms on the way to Bonham--
an aberration of home.
I see my grandma's street,
out of focus cars driving in the twilight heat...
Sultry island dusk
to which end we laugh,
oh we must... oh how we must.
I grasp the hand of the boatman of the stars,
messenger to the God of Mars--
we're lifting off in flying cars.
I grab his hand, he grabs my hand
as we both blast off--
into the promise land.
I can see
the entire cosmos,
a million galaxies--
with a billion stars
and ancient gods in silver cars.
I can see your face
flying all over outer-space.
from across starry ocean's grand,
can I hold your hand?
Galaxies of billions,
purple starlight fades
into mysterious Sundays.