Passing Colors

With already November,

Month last passing

independently

left behind

it’s fall-ish exterior

 

thousands of yellow and red

leaves still due for tear, fall,

landing.

 

Perhaps I shall pick one

to keep, then wonder

why it is not green

for it was when I turned around.

Dream

I dreamt I married
I awoke alone
my concious shouted
“you won't ever!”
I will I say
I can dream
and what I dream
I cannot predict
but it predicts itself
whilst I wonder
with a finger against
my chin.

Generation of Birds

Grandpas love for birds

is clearly expressed; with

at least four houses

and enough baths

for each it seems, they

are amused and always welcome.



Mom wished for a bird bath,

and more bird feeders;

she wanted a piece of her father

close by and in sight;

binocular, also like him.



Sister now

has a bird house hanging from

her tree, possibly telling

her daughters of their great-grandpa’s

love for birds. She loves them too,

like mom.



I would like a bird house someday.

In Thought

take my poems

and seal it with

bound or spirals,

dedicate it to the

dear one who inspired

me.



read it, and in my voice

picture the

drive in which

my hand recorded

for I cannot write

and feel at any time

in daylight



I need sunlight and birds,

dark room and fan

my heart and my interests.

Grocery Birds

first, one bird rumored and threatened

then I spy another; this other bird, at least

it has company, but no feed.

They flap rapidly, sending them

across the enormous

ceiling, without smashing and breaking.



Birds don’t belong in retail;

shoo them out of their unrealistic habitat

hide away the slingshot and hope they find

the exit with light.

Eight Days

eight days 'til the train whistle
strikes our ears,
like the 'ol mice
who skip up and down
the fifty five year old
main

eight days 'til the singin'
soars, the dancin'
swings you 'bout;
the want, the need,
the pleasure
to join in every direction
fun.

Eight days 'til
our cash becomes magnetic
to magical merchandise
even to dreamy
steamy churros

c'mon eight days turn
into one, then we enter into
those cheery gates into the
adorned park
and hollar out of excited lungs!

Ode to Tennis

Meet racket;
The balls tutor.
Teaches how to
Send and return
Back.

Meet ball;
Held firmly
To be tossed
then transported.

Meet net;
The balls rival.
Goal is to soar above
Not to.

Serve
Swing
Grunt

Racket is pleased
That ball takes on
Such a task.