The foul stench
Of soul meanness
Those who spoil
As daily sport
Joy of put-down
Envy of success
Of the real kind
Requiring heart & passion
That staring into horizon
The gaze that frees
And waits on knowledge
The shape of things to come
Like cloud masses from Canada
Weather of a changing kind
Sending the faint-hearted in doors—
There to await their polar fate.
Filed under flash poetry, poetry, prose poetry, works in progress
Back behind the fort
High on the ridge
The sun set quickly
On snow rimed peninsula
Leaving the bay behind
A palette of pinks & blues
Softly sparkling the water
And snow turning colors
Even as we turned
To escape the bitter wind
Off Nantasket Sound.
We laughed at this view
Wondering how far below
Our destinies lay
With the sea heavy
Lying in wait for real estate.
Filed under first thought, flash poetry, poetry, prose poetry, works in progress
You jest my friend
To think I am laughing,
For in truth I am deep
In a year of remembrance
And remorse as deep as nails,
Struck to the heart of things
Where life and death pass
One into the other,
So much so that change
Is blurred by vivid ache,
And hope expires in stale air
Foul as the breath of mushrooms
Whose poisonous seeds cloud
The low caves where your eyes
Once glowed inside a skull crushed,
By ambition’s maniac arc,
Drowning now into…
A pit of slime & pointlessness.
Filed under flash poetry, poetry, prose poetry, works in progress
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