Life has pressed him down,
Silently the reaper waits,
his next soul comes soon.
Silently the reaper waits,
his next soul comes soon.
Jun 30, 2011
Jun 29, 2011
Jun 28, 2011
Jun 27, 2011
Jun 26, 2011
Jun 25, 2011
Jun 24, 2011
Haiku #27
Pretty bad dry spell we're having here in Texas. We did get a little rain, but not enough. Hopefully more is coming soon.
Briefly the rain came,
the land soaked up every drop,
and again we wait.
Briefly the rain came,
the land soaked up every drop,
and again we wait.
Jun 23, 2011
Jun 22, 2011
Jun 21, 2011
Jun 20, 2011
Jun 19, 2011
Jun 18, 2011
Jun 17, 2011
Jun 16, 2011
Jun 15, 2011
Haiku #18
Another long day. Barely find myself having anytime to write. I guess choosing Haikus for a year long project isn't too bad, considering they're only 3 lines. I haven't quite had the time to finish up some other poetry I'm working on. I'm sure eventually it will find its way here, but until then... Tomorrow is not,
for yet today is still here,
cherish each moment.
Jun 14, 2011
Theological Illusion
The winds of time scatter
remnants of once stout souls,
and the dogma of man
usurps the great I Am,
as the bards of theology
dance in the spotlight of the stage,
expounding hypnotic chants
and breaking the back of Truth.
remnants of once stout souls,
and the dogma of man
usurps the great I Am,
as the bards of theology
dance in the spotlight of the stage,
expounding hypnotic chants
and breaking the back of Truth.
Jun 13, 2011
Jun 12, 2011
Tormented...Intro
Intro to short story I'm working on....
The opening of the door of madness was unintentional, but the damage was done. The putrification of his mind had begun and the struggle to regain clarity and the sense for which had once driven him would either make him stronger or destroy his soul in the process. He had slowly ascended within the reaches of his inner being towards the purpose for which he was made. The fog seemed to be clearing and within his sight over the next hilltop was what he had searched for over the past few years. A sense of purpose, his calling, the merging of his talents gifts and desires with the concrete reality of the physical world. He’d no longer live in the abstract recesses of his mind searching for light in the darkness. It was finally within his grasp. That’s when the storm clouds appeared on the horizon. The thunder roared and the first few strikes of lightning illuminated the creeping darkness. It all started with a phone call…..”Look, Tony, I can’t handle mom anymore. I can’t care for her by myself. I need help.”
The opening of the door of madness was unintentional, but the damage was done. The putrification of his mind had begun and the struggle to regain clarity and the sense for which had once driven him would either make him stronger or destroy his soul in the process. He had slowly ascended within the reaches of his inner being towards the purpose for which he was made. The fog seemed to be clearing and within his sight over the next hilltop was what he had searched for over the past few years. A sense of purpose, his calling, the merging of his talents gifts and desires with the concrete reality of the physical world. He’d no longer live in the abstract recesses of his mind searching for light in the darkness. It was finally within his grasp. That’s when the storm clouds appeared on the horizon. The thunder roared and the first few strikes of lightning illuminated the creeping darkness. It all started with a phone call…..”Look, Tony, I can’t handle mom anymore. I can’t care for her by myself. I need help.”
Jun 11, 2011
Jun 10, 2011
Jun 9, 2011
Jun 8, 2011
Jun 7, 2011
Creations of my Mind
the habitable creations of my mind,
unchecked thoughts with blind vision i doth create;
my reality done left behind,
power of the abstract cometh forth to permeate.
unseen worlds and new treasures to seek,
bold imaginations to give life;
the unbridaled fury of dreams does leak,
slicing through chaos and strife.
light has pierced the covering of the cloud,
step aside as the planter of worlds is freed;
nakedness covered by the tattered shroud,
hideth the hand which drop the seed.
the blossom come forth from the withering death,
the barren desolate landscape;
which put forth the cold and chilling breath,
cannot forsake new ideas to shape.
has not before so long ago,
been time of rebirth within the battered soul?
as once was when the spirit did flow,
cometh again after life's high toll.
Jun 6, 2011
Jun 5, 2011
Jun 4, 2011
Limerick
Well you can't always expect me to be serious with my poetry. Occasionally I do feel like writing something silly. A limerick seems appropriate for those situations. And this limerick is for my son. He is a very smart boy, and if he was reading this now would probably try and find some grammatical error or provide a suggestion on how to improve this post. So for him I have this...
Oh look at the boy with the mighty brain,
Smart aleck know-it-all is quite the pain,
How about a lobotomy?
Now do your trigonometry.
Oh you precious boy with the mighty brain.
He thought it was quite funny when I read it to him earlier, and I look forward to the limerick which I'm sure he'll write of me.
Oh look at the boy with the mighty brain,
Smart aleck know-it-all is quite the pain,
How about a lobotomy?
Now do your trigonometry.
Oh you precious boy with the mighty brain.
He thought it was quite funny when I read it to him earlier, and I look forward to the limerick which I'm sure he'll write of me.
Haiku #7
Not too stressed today about getting my Haiku finished. It's done! Had an early start to the day and a nice little break to think while I was at the shop getting a tire changed on my car. No sense in wasting time so I sat outside, enjoyed the fresh air, observed the world around me, and this is what I came up with.
Her hair has been done,
Dyed green by water and sun,
The birds sing her praise.
Whew, one week down. Only 51 more weeks of Haikus. 358 more Haikus. 1,074 more lines of poetry. No problem.
Her hair has been done,
Dyed green by water and sun,
The birds sing her praise.
Whew, one week down. Only 51 more weeks of Haikus. 358 more Haikus. 1,074 more lines of poetry. No problem.
Jun 3, 2011
Haiku #6
Ok, just getting back into the house, and it's almost 11. One haiku a day and it hasn't even been a week yet. I have got to find some spare time to write. Well I have to post something for the day, so....
Let the rain cleanse me,
My emotions overflow,
And the tears flow free.
That's all I have for today. I'm still working on some other poetry, but I have not had the time to sit and complete any of the projects I've started.
Well until next time.....thanks for reading.
Let the rain cleanse me,
My emotions overflow,
And the tears flow free.
That's all I have for today. I'm still working on some other poetry, but I have not had the time to sit and complete any of the projects I've started.
Well until next time.....thanks for reading.
Jun 2, 2011
Jun 1, 2011
Haiku #4
This is only the fourth Haiku. Write one a day for a year? The thoughts weren't coming to me today. It's only three lines, 5-7-5, not so hard, right? So I told myself. But trying to add a little bit of new creativity everyday, into three lines, and stay original is a tougher than I thought. Of course I'm only whining right now because I had a rough day at work, and haven't had much time to sit down, relax, and try to write. Ok, so introducing Mr. Haiku #4 of my year long Blitz......
Bright morning glory,
All day you've blazed; time to rest,
Beautiful sunset.
Bright morning glory,
All day you've blazed; time to rest,
Beautiful sunset.
Butterfly Kisses
This is the intro to a short story I'm working on.She always loved butterfly kisses. The sensation of his eyelashes softly fluttering against her skin. Her cheeks so soft and smooth, unblemished, beautiful in the moonlight. He flicked his eyelashes once more, then pulled back and gazed at her. He cradled her head in his arm, and pressed her against his chest. He pressed his lips against hers. So soft. He felt lost in the moment. He slowly pulled away from her lips, then kissed her on the chin. Was ever a woman so beautiful he thought to himself. He squeezed her tight, and pressed her against his body. He felt like their bodies could just melt together. If only this moment could last. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the moment. He leaned over and kissed her on the lips again, then slowly slid down to her neck. He pressed his lips firmly against her neck. She was still so warm, the gaping hole in her neck still seeping of her warm blood. The metallic taste so inviting. He pressed his mouth a little harder into her neck. So warm, and wet. He feverishly drank in all she'd give. He loved her in life, and also in death. He couldn't explain how the change had come about, or why the infection had taken hold of his mind. But he needed the blood. They were supposed to get married this coming summer, but once the madness grabbed him all those dreams had come to a halt. Now he was driven by his hunger. She must have realized something was wrong. They had argued and she had stormed out of the house. He followed her out to the lawn and had grabbed her arm, that's when she slapped him. The rage and hunger inside him could no longer be contained. The initial kill, and taste of blood calmed the rage, and momentarily sated his hunger. He lowered her body to the ground. He'd sit with her for a while before packing his things, and disappearing. He'd keep her against his body feeling her for the last time, and kiss her once more. Then he'd just softly flick his eyelashes on her cheeks. She always did love butterfly kisses.
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