Daddies Rusty Gun (day 793)

I used to be a dangerous babe
Then I dashed away my stripes
And wrote away my lovers
I stuck them like pigs
Flapping in the breeze
Their hearts around my neck
In golden lockets
Blazed with scorn of time
Shifting about my mothers brow
I splattered about my mirror
My soul, so I could watch it
In pouting and daunting sex appeal
Seemingly oozing down my leg
As if spit on me by studs
Strap-backed homies with
Daddies rusty gun

I used to be a dangerous babe
Then I stripped away my vain
Carved remorse into my pale arms
And blew kisses into the wind

Pushing Defeat (day 792)

I am pushing away my talents into a pit full of defeat
Losing my sense of touch as I turn off my eyes and shut out my ears

I am managing my vices into small little pockets
Keeping them close to reap what I fancy while ignoring the pangs

I am losing my stability that once held my shoulders back and head high
As I slouch forward at my torture all day passing wisdom into ignorant ears

I am glass without even a foggy decay bouncing about the oceans surf
No message, no inside, not even a small culture clinging to the rough edges

I am falling into the lost pages of all the dusty books
Pressed flat to be a disconnected memory with a faint lingering scent

But alas, I am a strong thought late at night when all else settles down
When the moon rises and coyotes howl and the sheets rumple at thy feet

I’m Sorry (day 786)

I’m sorry for wishing upon a star
I’m sorry for shading in my grays
I’m sorry for holding my glass half full
I’m sorry for not wearing socks
I’m sorry for listening to birds
I’m sorry for squeezing my hugs tight
I’m sorry for singing in the rain
I’m sorry for dancing you around in circles
I’m sorry for laughing at the jokes
I’m sorry for whispering into winds
I’m sorry for handling the hot dishes
I’m sorry for opening your door
I’m sorry for carrying the heavy stuff
I’m sorry for kissing you under that old oak
I’m sorry for making you tea

How Would We Spend Our Days (day 784)

But if I never held your hand
How would I know your touch?

But if I never spoke your name
How would I call you to me?

But if I never smelled your essence
How would I find my memories?

But if I never whispered lightly
How would I hear you call?

But if I never watched the sunset
How would I dream of you at night?

But if we never gazed afar
How would we ever smile together?

But if we never danced to slow songs
How would we spend our days?

Athens, Greece

Suspended In Mid-Air (day 783)

I center my balance as I reel
Slowly out of peace
While loosely around me clutters
Lost fragments of my memory

I cannot counter distress
That flutters here
Suspended in mid-air
Waiting to attach itself
To unsuspecting passersbys

I, the unsuspected
Shelter my innocence
With umbrellas for the sun
Reflecting glances
Off my glaring receptacles

I know not the distress
Left steaming from blacktop
Covering your deepest desires
Near the corners of your heart

London - 052012 (79 of 302)

Old English Accent (day 782)

It wasn’t too long ago that I
Wandering through fields waist high
Came upon one friendly blade of grass
That spoke to me in old English decree
Thus like:

Forsooth it is thy jolly Lombard
Erect in flight of recent folly
That doth not retire grand ambition
That doth not spare no damsel plight
Amongst thy gallows of conquered fate
Whence settling down amongst thou bromus
He contemplates his recent fight
And not one hour should pass thy penance
When thou stumblt upon a gift that gave
So lovely displayed be suit noble court
Of kindly and jolly King Edward the IV.
And in this gift so deep a sentiment
Earl Warwick, himself! ere be knelt
The gift to seekers shall be found
Not in man’s work but in mankind
Thou gift is also found upon
Thy brow of revelations crown

And to this joy that I’d now found
While wandering to and then to fro
Reciting, by name, the grass that grew
Here I would learn to love anew

North Thompson Field of Hay

Poem For a Great Dog (day 780)

I had a dog – a great dog to do him right
A dog so valiant he was my brother
A dog so honorable he made me proud

His sticks were always the biggest sticks
That the forest could offer up
Two lengths wide; head held so high
That was the kind of dog my dog was
And when you threw that stick for him
There wasn’t another care in the world
Bounding over logs and through tall grass
Around small trees and through thick brush

I would let him come upstairs
Sit by my feet as I worked away mine toils
Especially with loud thunder
Shaking yonder hills
I can still clearly remember when,
As a young pup, I tried to acclimatize
The tiny dog to a perch on my bed
He grew so fast and at first chance
He jumped from those heights to
More stable grounds below

He made friends with all the other dogs
He was loved by all those who knew him
His heart beat so true none could deny
His kind, gentle demeanor as he prodded on
Hardly a pup could try his strong patience
But let’s not be fooled that when needed
He wouldn’t take much testing
From neighborhood mutts

It is uncountable the amount of times
He would scare away a bear, herd away a moose
Scamper after a fleeting deer through long grass
Or jump at the sound of the resident squirrel
Sending him high in branches of his tree
He would lose himself in the forest tracking a scent
Only to reappear down the trail looking for me

He had his friends that roamed the trail behind the house
The young girl down the road and her witty sled dog
The Germans and their duck dog, oh what a pair those two made!
One that couldn’t stand a loud sound
The other that lived for the sound of a shot!
Or the wolf hound three doors down
And the proud girl with her border collie around the bend

He was a great dog, the dog that I had
When I returned home, his tail would knock
Over anything near, excited yelps uncontrollable
He would always put his nose between your legs
Slowly walking through as you scratched him down
When you got to his tail, his legs would go weak
For it was there that gave him infinite pleasure

I will miss the dog that I once had
A great dog, a brother of mine till the end
I will miss him more than the trails we used to walk
Or the seasons we’d always play

HonemoonDriveHike-20110722 (106 of 164)

Looked Like a Lover (day 779)

She looked like a lover I used to have
Who wouldn’t let me hold her tight
Though she’d lay naked on my bed

She looked like a lover I used to know
Who would sing a song to my keen heart
Then tell me not to listen to a word

She looked like a lover I used to love
Eyes so wide, figure so heavenly
But she told me not to smile again

She looked like a lover I used to believe
Words weaving dreams and harmony
Till she blew out her last plume of smoke

She looked like a lover I used to praise
Elegant and beauty deep and divine
Then she spoiled my words with one final goodbye

Without (day 771)

Without words no man can swallow
Without ideas no man can think
Without legs no man can follow
Without heart no man can provide
Without hands no man can support
Without eyes no man can sympathize
Without toes no man can wade
Without fences no man can defend
Without green no man can spring
Without skin no man can feel
Without hair no man can mind
Without voice no man can speak
Without you no man can be free