24 April 2013


Pig flesh guilts my heart
But it makes my belly so
Very very full.

Day 24. A disgusting photo of a huge tumor in a side of beef made me think of my mixed feelings about delicious meat.

23 April 2013

My Gift

The dots do not connect.
The elements do not combine
Into pattern.

How many colors
Can’t I perceive?
If my eye were a magic prism,
What rainbow of invisible spectrum
Would shock my optic nerve?

What sounds
Pass serenely through my space,
Without the slightest tympanic vibration?
If my ears breathed in every noise
Just to live,
What quavering wavelengths
Would shake beneath my skin?

Maybe my gift is
That I should never know.

Day 23? I was thinking about how music must sound to a musical genius? How does art look to a grand artist? My magic prism line is borrowed from "The Necromancer" by RUSH.

22 April 2013

These Pages

Monhegan's Schoolteacher, 2004 by Jamie Wyeth 

These pages are kind,
Without the soft warm elastic of flesh,
But they are forgiving.
These pages are radiant,
Without the heat of a soul piercing through pupils,
But they are entrancing.
These pages arouse,
Without the panting of lungs and the grope of desire,
But they are here for me to touch.
These pages will never leave.

Day 22. Inspired by Mag 165. My mind was going in a couple of different directions here. 

21 April 2013

Intergalactic Dream

In its own dark omniverse,
Stars burst into being,
Galaxies breathe in and out
Like lungs.
Mortals launch
Into geosynchronous orbit
Floating in sleepy space,
Enveloped in cotton white nebulae,
Wrapped in invisible dark matter warmth,
Hoping the day will never come.

Day 21.

20 April 2013

More Than Beauty

electric guitar [900]
image by brianjmatis

Every part of its powerful being,
Every mahogany stretch of curve,
Every polished slant of rosewood,
Each electric circuit
And copper coil,
Every individual inlay,
Even the tiny abruptness
Of a jutting fret
Gives it something more than beauty.

Day 20.

19 April 2013

Freeze Frame

Open your aperture.
Snap click the moment
And stop time.
Defy physics in frozen motion.
Capture colors in a Polaroid cell.
Trap the emotion in two dimensions.
Dampen the flash.
Get the shot.
Steal the soul.

Day 19.

18 April 2013


I’ve seen with my eyes,
His too big trousers
And the stripes of his suspenders,
His Sunday funny
Comic book bunny magic.

He says it’s all we need.
He says it can burn
A hole through the night.
Follow him with faith
Call him the Antidevil.
Hope him a smile’
And hug the world’s sword
Until it doesn’t hurt any more.

Day 18. Inspiration from Poets United Verse First. My hand at a happy poem. I'm not sure how to write a happy poem.

17 April 2013


Trust is an endurance,
A feat of strength.
It’s a deadlift
Or a triathlon.
That can leave you
Wobbling in sweat.
Barely stringing two shaky steps
On the brink of destruction
At the edge of a sinkhole,
Hoping the Earth doesn’t
Widen its mouth
And devour it all.

Day17? For Three Word Wednesday. Destruction, Trust, Endure.

16 April 2013

Evil Intent

I have in me,
Evil intent.
Tucked away
Behind my prayers.
You can see it
In the white of my teeth
And the gleam of my eyes
If you watch close.
Don't blink.
I'll get you.

I think I had my days mixed up. This is day 16. Anyway...

15 April 2013

You Don't Have to Pick My Pockets

I'll just empty my pockets
While I still can.
Let me pick my wallet
From my jeans pocket
Instead of my Sunday slacks.
Cash, cards, coins.
I’m done with it.
Let me buy you one last round
And one last dress.
You can pick my suit,
But you don’t have to pick my pockets.
It’s yours
With the everything else.
So when you put me in my box,
Just keep the wallet.

Day 15. My inspiration is a line from Soundgarden's Jesus Christ Pose: 
It wouldn't bring you more to bury you rich than to bury you poor.
I didn't spend as much time with this as I should have. Not so happy with it. But instead of deleting it, I decided to use it for day 15.

14 April 2013


Will snap your neck
image by Travis Isaacs

Bloodfisted percussive
Orgy of
Natural rhythms.
Zenith eclipsed.
Oblivion achieved.

For day 14, I mad an acrostic. I NEVER do that! This is why. It's also a bit of a eulogy for the late John "Bonzo" Bonham.

13 April 2013

Uncommon Aurora

Midwestern U.S. at Night With Aurora Borealis (NASA, International Space Station, 09/29/11)
image by NASA's Marshall Space Flight Center
Magnetize the air.
Photons in the solar breeze
Dazzle me with light?

Quick haiku about the possibility of seeing the Aurora Borealis tonight as far south as Washington state. Day 13!

12 April 2013


"The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his."
-General S. Patton

Empty Casings
image by The U.S. Army
I've kept these bullets,
The steel length of this bayonette,
For you.
And I am sorry
For my gifts:
I'll do my best
To pierce your heart,
To give you death
With all your limbs
And a hero's diginty.
I'll salute your brave body
And leave it there
with your dog tag
And my presents.
Take them to your God
With my apologies.

Day 12 and still going. This on is submitted at Sunday Scribblings.

11 April 2013

Pray for a Dragon

Predator Drone
image by Doctress Neutopia

Pray for a dragon.
Mirror steel scales. Delta winged.
Tomahawk fire.
Watch his VSTOL.
Hide your face. Missile Away.

NapoWriMo day 11. A tanka for Napowrimo.net. I've actually been writing a lot about wars (not poems). But I got to thinking about the impersonal nature of war. Used to be, if you wanna kill a man on a battlefield, you pretty much had to get all up in his face, watch his last breathe. Now it's all push button. I'm actually not trying to offer a critique on this, just an observation. And VSTOL stands for Vertical/Short Take-off and Landing.

10 April 2013


I’m not basking.
I’m exhausted.
Hot Sun
image by jetsandzeppelins
The ultra violet 
Rays down blisters to my skin. 
If I could move,
If I could even roll over, 
I would.
You show me curious 
Raised eyebrows.
Hold out a hand.
Give me strength.
Wipe my tears. 
Soothe my grief.

Day 10. Feeling good. Writing this poem, I had a picture in my mind of  Jack Johnson (James Earl Jones version in the Great White Hope) fighting 50 bare-knuckle rounds in the hot sun. Though, I don't know if Jack Johnson ever really made it 50 rounds. The picture I had was James Earl Jones as Jack Johnson, but I think it really came from another bare-knuckle boxer, John L. Sullivan. In any case, I also think I should explain That "Rays" in line 4 is a verb. I'm wondering if that really works out ok. 
Submitted for Three Word Wednesday. The words are bask, raise, and grief.

08 April 2013

What Makes Envy?

Jatropha hybrid - Leaf detail (129 DAS)
image by tonrulkens
What makes envy
So green?

I don’t think it can be
The symmetrical beauty of a leaf,
Catching light rays like a sail,
Or the meager refraction of a sunbeam
Through the cold morning dew drops
On a tilting blade of grass.
Surely not the hungry chloroplasts,
Gobbling up photons
And making them into stalks and stems,
Roots and trunks.

I think that some things should stay beautiful.
Some colors should remain innocent,
So in my mind,
I rearrange the spectrum,
Diffuse each brilliant color
From its ugly emotion,
And wash the envy away
Like runny paint,
And wipe away every trace.

I give the green back
To the forests
The flora
The foliage
And the fields.

Day 8. Submitted at Open Link Night at DVerse Poets Pub.

07 April 2013


Bring them shiny things.
Cut colored rocks like diamonds.
Call them facets
And give them fancy names.
Add an analog dial.
Make it big round retro.
Diagnose it.
Make it the absolute best,
Pound for pound.
Just don’t ignore it.

Well, look at that. Day 7. Submitted for Poets United's Poetry Pantry.

06 April 2013


Your surprises
Bite the flesh, then
Old Saws-04783
Image by saskjaer
Tear their way out.
Jagged teeth,
Sharked in rows,
One after another after another,
Point at me
From every angle.
A clean slice,
A sharp sword,
Even a bludgeon would be better
Than your abrasive incisors
That cut both ways.

Day 6 for Sunday Scribblings. the prompt was Sharp.

05 April 2013

Grand Arc

Grand arc,
Compass perfect
Angles always absent.
Infallible in curvature.

My attempt at a cinquain for day 5.

04 April 2013


Nov. 30 - A Day in a Wheelchair
Image by vanhookc

One day I think,
This thing may rebel.
My commands unheard.
My voice ignored.
My fingers
Refuse into fists.
My steps
Stop in stride.

I am not surprised.
I am not angry.
But I do not forgive
My body,
The betrayer.

Inspiration from Poets United prompt: Body, as well as my dad, who had Parkinson's disease. Day 4 NaPoWriMo! 

03 April 2013

Like Dust

I pity your dull brain
And your precious things,
All for touching.

The acute sensitivity
Of your fingertips.
The aroma of wine
Breathed over your tongue.

The special place in your tin heart
For a purse
Full of soft gold.

Your words
That sound like dust
And scatter in the wind.

Nothing Special. Day number 3.

02 April 2013


She mistakes terse cooperation
For love.
But his voice has gone limp,
His tongue lame.

Resistance is wasteful.
So he tucks away his energy instead,
Conserves each calorie,
For one day,
He will run.

A quick write without much of the imagery that I usually strive for. But my number 1 goal is quantity (for NaPoWriMo) not quality. And on day 2, I'm right on track! Got inspiration from Three Word Wednesday. The words are terse, sooperate, and lame.

01 April 2013

The Lonely Moon

Slowly, silently, now the moon
Peeks ashy eyes from behind midnight clouds.
She hopes to see the bustling brightness of nighttime.
She waits for necks to crane up to her cratered countenance,
But she only pulls at the emptiness of the sea.
She turns her sullen, rocky face away
And wonders why the people reject her.
Where have all the people gone?

Don't have much to say about this, because i'm so tired. Came from a prompt from NaPoWriMo.net. Take the first line of a famous poem and do something new. The first line is from Walter de la Mare's Silver.