Little sound vibrations
Clicking
Flickering light
Category: poem a day
Twisting, in the Art of Bravery (day 544)
I’ve longed for such a chapter of lust
One that breaches the subjects of love
Tell me a little longer
Of the secrets they call trysts
Wild with a blaze
Strong with a theory
Making sharp notes into time
Crowding the lustful cherries of the end
Core maximum
Engines red
Guns a blazing
Smoke rising
Stop (day 543)
I do not stop
When I finish
I start again
There isn’t pause
There isn’t hold
There isn’t TO
Go, go, go again
Go, away, again
Start
Persist
No relent
Always
White Flag (day 542)
The torment of age pulls at every crevice of my countenance it can find
Dropping my cheeks into a hollow pit of agony only my mirror doesn’t grimace at
Hair streaking with uninterrupted hurt, curling the edges of my toes
Pulling me into a shallow slouch the clock on the wall envies
So where did the first signs of this painful agony surface
A gloom so rich with heartache and pitiful distrust even Demeter would cry for
In spite visible agony the poison tipped arrow repeatedly plunges
Unstoppable in its fury to forget that which hurt the lovers
With cries that rang out into the mild winters night alone
Lightly highlighted clouds turned in their unrest
Dancing with Hades around the fire of revenge
Unbeknownst to them white flags suffocated their children
Hurry in an Angels grace, with all lost reasons
Against all miseries of yesterdays woes
Into the hands weeping eyes have never sanctified
Into a lover yet to rectify his love for you
Memory Smells (day 541)
There’s a certain smell that works
That lingers around indefinitely
Feeling of home: thoughts, memories
It’s nice to be back
Things like this hit you first
Usually when the door opens
Friends used to say mothers cooking
Was the best thing about my house
The old work truck, shiny and blue
Still works. It’s a service truck now
Hauling around gas for the big guys
It’s got that western smell of leather
No matter how much I’d wash
All those shoulder pads and socks
My hockey gear would always end up
With that sweet smell of victory
When I crack a beer, one of my fathers beers
And a little white mist rises out
Only with the glass bottles do I remember
Stealing dad’s beers late at night
But of all my memory smells wafting around
I remember one that’s never returned
When I’d learn guitar in a tiny room
E – A – D – G – B – E ~strum
To Make This Ending Alright (day 540)
There is no age that is old enough
There are no journeys long enough
No steps that take you high enough
No song that lasts long enough
To make this ending alright
Your infinite smile that greeted guests
Lingers long after the visit rests
Lawnmower rides with a mile wide smile
Together, no memory strong enough
To make this ending alright
The time we’ve shared
Has taken me into a land
Far beyond dreams and into
The hands of strength and belief
To make this ending alright
So now is not the time to fret
Time to weep into our sorrow
It’s time to praise the lasting life
That fills our remaining breath
To make this ending alright
~this poem is to give strength to all of you out there, healthy or sick, to fight and enjoy every last breath you have~
Woody Guthrie (day 539)
Amongst the dustbowls that chased the nation
Midst a war ‘gainst fascists
Duststorms blew up a comedian
Writer in his mind that worked
Frustrated as he aged along
A man that wandered as he wished
Floated West and to the East
Trying to free his voice that sang
His guitar that could only play along
To a man who attended his own memorial
A man who’d left his mind behind
On a road that was long and never straight
That left a line to Tom Joads sorrow
A line to Cathy that broke the straw
That spent this man’s despair
He changed the world and opened its eyes
With words that spoke to them
All across the nation as it sang
Woody Guthrie you shall remain
Don’t You Dare (day 538)
Stone me in a cobblestone square or
Sling me up amongst the berries and the winds
But don’t dare
In all my days
Pull from these wretched hands
Bloody and gnarled
The blessing of thought
Loud and true
That lead me to and fro
Now till ‘morrow
In unceasing desire
No, don’t you dare
Winters Walk (day 537)
Cold winter’s setting in
Nights that bite, winds that snap
And an old dog that’s looking good
With a shiny coat thick and black
Friendly vigor as he rolls around the familiar path
Mismatched mitts, a warm winters tuke
And a scarf that wraps right around twice
M’neck’s nice and warm
My nose’s running fast
While my feet carry me home from a walk
Stamps (day 536)
Perforated edges
Soaking
Indexing