Archive for the ‘Creative Writing’ Category
Thinks
.
.
there are too many thinks
to think about
all up in our heads
some gathering clout
to gain in importance
the rest dribbling out
falling through cracks
too wide to stop
real ideas
leaking right out
out of our sight
and far from our minds
joining lost things
deserving thought-time
leaving behind
unspecified finds
words from our friends
chores that aren’t done
happy-go-lucky
freewheeling big fun
heavier things
left incomplete
usually because
they’re too hard to do
needing deep thoughts
not here to fall through
grabbing for grasp
while clinging to hope
some new way will come
to successfully cope
succumbing to sleep
that seeps up from below
the too many thinks
continue to flow
.
.
Fourth
.
.
holiday weekend
early July
at the lake
kids galore
laughter and tears
“get me a drink”
“I want that”
oops
manners forgot
sunny lake breeze
boats to and fro
soccer on the lawn
plastic chairs
as goal posts
game without borders
play continues
through the playground
around the tractor
and back
19 goals later
throngs hit the beach
shrieks splashing
in every direction
parents lounging
side by side
on chairs in the shade
as the sailboat returns
triumphant
smoke wafting
from the hot tub burner
and our campfire, too
where the potatoes in foil
simmer enticingly
marshmallows melting
charred by flame
then card games on the porch
firecrackers popping outside
carefree pleasures
galore
happy weekend
celebrating
July four
.
.
Sense
.
.
delayed reaction
ancient wisdom
flows
invisibly iridescent
radiating tangible value
solutions
overflowing with simple
yet complex
enduring congruence
of earth
rocks and sky
sunlight
growing things
water
waiting
like notes in a song
existing
obvious
and lost
in patterns
of the whole
.
.
Mystery
.
.
Mystery radiates from everything
filling a void most choose to ignore
lightly dusting echoes with possibility
triggering that hint of a sneeze
asking for nothing
expecting even less
waiting for the evening
of our days
when you are long gone
though, you were never even here
just a figment of imagination
made real by possibility
and repetition
false memory
as credible as belief
a platform from which to dive
into the unknown
naked and alone
holding hope
and using it to float
past all the rest
of everything that doesn’t matter
happening every day
letting the ever-changing daylight
paint the backdrop of inner space
deeper shades of each unknown
effortlessly
without a hint or clue
quietly
as if not to awaken
some logical reference
to concrete and sequence
a genuine happiness
waiting to gently alight
from somewhere out of view
a phantom itch
that needs a scratch
… a void
that mystery gladly fills
.
.
Updating
.
.
softly
tip toeing
into the river
of updating software
doesn’t feel quite so soft
when jarred
by messages
frozen
on screen
that don’t respond
to frantic pushing
of buttons
panicked clicking
of keys
gnashing of teeth
whimpering a curse
languishing in limbo
adrift
between versions
of executable code
without a paddle
.
.
June Four
On the occasion of Cyndie’s birthday today, she offered to do a guest post for me, while I finished a project that predictably, once again, took me past my bedtime last night. Here is a creation from the love of my life! It feels like it’s a present to me! (After she sent it, she told me she should have written, “weed whacker” instead of “hedge trimmer” …I brought home a battery operated trimmer that has nylon line as the cutter, for her to play with [and use to clean up any spots that may have been missed when mowing by the meandering wanderer method she tends to employ.])
Relative Something 