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 |   "Scattered leaved with poetic imprints." My new collection of poetry. |
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P.(tree)Log ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Well, it's now mid- 2019 and this is still the only book I use to house part of my new poetry. I began using it years ago due to a lack of storage space in my over-700 item WDC portfolio. I really need to do some spring, summer, fall and winter cleaning. There are still lots of static items which have never received any mention by other members here. But that's part of the problem of being a writer ( musician, artist, actor ... ). I do not know how to network. Thanks for discovering this link. Please leave a comment. Bookmark it, please.... This is a writing site and not FarceBrook where it's so easy just to press the button "LIKE." (( And I am not a fan of the fact that WDC has added it. )) |
frost covered red-tile roofs whisps of smoke top chimneys like cotton candy clouds winter tarries, fogs the horizon but snow is still foreign to chilled city landscapes the rivers aren't frozen yet ice rinks are rare but bright colored earmuffs and tassled bonnets adorn the passersby, warmly dressed for the first blustery snowflakes whirling around frosted breaths of oohs and ahs and the anticipation of snowmen in the gardens, standing valliantly as proof that december snows really did arrive to welcome the new year untitled, waiting for the snow [2008.28.12...a] |
dull dusty rays, orange-yellow shine somehow past the glow of a single lamplight framing the events of my youth, left in rust colored memories, illuminated under the streetlights where I wandered in search of my would-be life, a weed filled garden of promises fulfilled too eagerly then quickly betrayed like the nightmare end of an innocent moth burned so suddenly fluttering so close to the perfection of light imagined so bright too bright [2008.20.12...a] a K.E. inspiration way beyond the blue of tomorrow's jazz songs I dream of a girl on an easy street though the sunshine's gone wandering by a quiet brook, and under the magnolia with clouds reminding me of her face love makes an appointment with faith… I wake, time after time, with music on my lips sweets songs of anniversaries celebrations never to happen, although have no paper money in my pocket I throw a penny in the fountain hoping tomorrow you'll tell me your thoughts write me a letter talking about love making me hope I was a single man again wishing well blues [2008. 20.12...c] after a series of prompts, titles by Eva Cassidy |
there are secrets I collect in the depths of my heart when in the middle of winter it wants me to sing of spring bouquets or inexplicably it jumps past the first burst of midsummer's heat, and brings instead songs of the burning dryness of autumn's dying leaves these emotions I know, they are my untold truths carried silently but whether my heart would rejoice or needs somehow, curiously, to be pampered by the longing of solitude to share these words, looking deep in your eyes takes more courage than the first time I looked past the fear of tenderness and let myself feel a glimmer of promise born once again allowing it to happen [2008.12.12...a] |
| Seven Poems Inspired by the prompts for the Inspirations Contest like soft embers of the fire the shimmering of evening's mingling light catches a restless reflection in your eyes blue and green-gold flecks dance upon my heart, captivated with your smile a rosebud prisoner of your love — hold me tenderly, for my thorns have not yet been pruned breathe in my impatience let our dance begin like soft embers of the fire igniting the phial which will dilute our passion into a perfumed essence called love in your dancing eyes [2008.13.12…b] "Inspirations" prompt n° 1: mingling light o°o°o°o°ooooo°°°°°°ooooo°o°o°o°o softly wrapped in your heart protected by its deep furrows my gift of love tarries I wonder will you unwrap its ribbons and gaze at its perfection while I still believe in its power? powerless love [2008.13.12…e] "Inspirations" prompt n° 2: softly wrapped o°o°o°o°ooooo°°°°°°ooooo°o°o°o°o I choose freely, eating hemlock that bittersweet poison called love dying slowly in the graying embers of your eyes, I ask for nothing life cannot grant me for even your love brings a grief I cannot name will you mourn my passing, remembering my shadow in the moonlight of our past when I am no longer safely wrapped in your arms? to die in your arms [2008.13.12…d] "Inspirations" prompt n° 3: eating hemlock o°o°o°o°ooooo°°°°°°ooooo°o°o°o°o outside, the din of traffic is numbed by the falling snow frozen tears of the dead as they ascend to heaven there is no more ritual honking, no sliding impatience no more innocent victims of haste, peace has spread its blanket for a single moment when every one stops in awe for unconsciously we all know that our own tears will freeze into a million perfect crystals one day sooner than we think and we pray never to hear the crashing sounds of our own deaths, caught on hot asphalt amid the blaring sirens of human complacency in a single moment of peace [2008.13.12…a] "Inspirations" prompt n° 4: the din of traffic o°o°o°o°ooooo°°°°°°ooooo°o°o°o°o in the gentle sweep of snow a body still lies immobile, lost and forgotten in this place no tombstone allows family grief no plastic flowers, faded and frozen will ever mark the sadness of those remaining war has raped the land, men, too young for this dying before knowing the fear of looking diversity deep in the eyes — times long gone these men poorly remembered though only one here is buried deep in the immaculate white cape of winter his youth is lost, his blood nourished the soil seeping slowly from the agony of a non-fatal wound what kind of springtime can blossom now in his wake? what hope can the melting snow reveal? long gone [2008.13.12…f] "Inspirations" prompt n° 5: gentle sweep of snow o°o°o°o°ooooo°°°°°°ooooo°o°o°o°o distant bounds of earth mark human indifference to our diversity they are invisible lines creating hate faraway places where men only scream in the pain inflicted upon them by intolerance and injustice… today this boundary is just across the street and I fear to leave my home, even at noon the indifference, even at noon [2008.13.12…g] "Inspirations" prompt n° 6: distant bounds of earth o°o°o°o°ooooo°°°°°°ooooo°o°o°o°o always on the prowl for you following, waiting for the slightest of your appearances planned as the howl of your contentment or as sudden as a lover’s scowl you flee my life, without haste returning just as furtively on a distant gloomy morning only to leave before the firelight wanes I, fouled by disillusion, yes, I linger, for it has been too long that I, impatient in the role of the owl, am the lonely custodian of your nighttime visits the owl [2008.13.12…c] "Inspirations" prompt n° 7: always on the prowl for you |
in winter, when the weather is just cold enough I always run to the window after a nap, or at three a.m. to see the snow, if its silence has transcended my dreams I peer regularly beyond the glass looking outwards for a silvery white sign that the upward dreams have come downwards with their unique quiet that inevitably, all over the world causes that first smiling moment of awe waiting for awe [2008.11.12...a] This also appears in today's entry of The Troubadour's Golden Digest. |
warm here under blankets while my tummy grumbles I swallow a tumbler of pills to dissipate the pain for I'm lacking mulled wine in bed [2008.9.12...a] fallen snow I wander slowly along listening to the songs of whispered secrets many miss, caught in silvery white beauty if I could become a snowman would my tears be muffled silence? winter dream [2008.9.12...b] |
the stars listened, they always do to the songs our hearts refuse to voice moonlight casts shadows of shyness for us to kiss, unseen by the sunlight our words contain only hints of betrayal our fears, rejection's bitter ends as night dances, we take a chance allowing ourselves to feel - just enough - under the shimmering stars, keepers of our silence what the mountain wind tells me [2008.6.12...a] K.E. inspiration And Dragon's blog inspired another mono-rhyme ditty. Haven't written one of those in a long time: this poet never writes STUFF it's too rough, too gruff, and after all, enough has been said about tough tattooed women in a huff, because I called her bluff (OK, get out the handcuffs guilty, as charged, of poetic fluff) off the cuff [2008.6.12...b] for Puff, the magic Dragon |
Iowegian Skye   had a challenge in her blog today. She'll be a worthy person to take up my own poetry challenges.In rough ditty form, here's what I wrote: they would see the world in blue and green as from afar too close to black and white are they it's either or... paint us, dear gods above, in all the colors do that domination disappears before all we see is green and blue from the heavens, or hell's gates looking from afar green and blue [2008.29.11...a] |
K. E. has the blog blues having lost himself in autum reds yellows and mottled greens I'm an A.B. filled with purple I'd send him a ray of golden yellow but I need it to keep my toes toasty brown in the pre-snow days filled with gray fall colors [2008.8.11...a] and now, reading his newest entry, a prompt a friend gave him which inspired a bit of nostalgia. stained with rust my hands, my soul was it bronze or the color of dirt from the garden or building your cairn I don't remember but I know I'll think fondly of these stains, on my fingers a duller heart thanks to you no way to forget [2008.8.11...b] Thanks KÃ¥re for your special brand of inspiration. |
when the wind capers and whistles spotted reds and tawny browns scatter with mottled yellows and fading mossy greens the rain has washed the blue from my eyes I am left to stare at the grey outlines as I stumble in the half-shadows of wintery slumber… can nothing coax my frozen fingers to remember the sweeter season’s songs? and if I could thaw them from the blustery verse of my out-of-tune harmonies would I once again trudge, tender-eyed and rosy cheeked, past the back yard gate looking for the fields of four leaf clover that should have been my childhood? when autumn songs fade into memories [2008.28.10…a] AND, a little ditty, in epitaph style, for Special Kay's blog. i threw in a dime, it rattled, bounced like my bank's dividend check and before I knew it it was raining dollar bills worthless, the ink fading (counterfeit...) stupid to think it grew on trees worthless today [2008.28.10...b] |
| unbidden, a bubble burst and in the soft soapy light cleansing my illusions gentle words came as a song for my ears only to be shared, rarely, in the intimacy of my dreams, or the visions we create together my harmonies are a changeling‘s timid melodies stuck at a windy crossroads, searching for that one path henceforth paved in my own selfish pleasure in a tiny world where my music knows not the threats of displeasure, disclosure or the distant years yellowing the grooves it used to make in my soul [2008.26.1 0…a] he sits, hesitant, nonchalant scanning the open pages waiting for my beautiful music to end fading into a pause where he may once again exist trying to help me realize that I remain alone a troubadour in someone else’s book its unread words engulfed in the sadness of knowing that I — principal character — am stuck in the wrong story trapped in a lifetime which should have been different [2008.26.1 0…b] towards the day’s end a single ray of sunlight crossed my face as cameras immortalized the music angels might have heard today there were no tears for my beauty is forever trapped in my soul in songs fit only for the soundtrack of my dreams a sad quiet reality of wrong notes caught in the fading footlights of the man I thought I could become [2008.26.1 0…c] |
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