A quiet Saturday

A quiet Saturday-

A quiet day, spent by

sleeping in. Awaking slowly,

into the afternoon, very much

unlike me.

Meditative as the hum drum hum

of our heater fills our bedroom.

All of a sudden, it feels like a game of make believe.

A game of Hide and Seek.

As I search my minds eye-

for some wise words

to live by.

Poetry is a Muse

who often comes and goes,

without much thought or effort

on my part.

She either comes a knocking…

or she does not.

All of a sudden, it feels like a game of make believe.

A game of Hide and Seek.

As I search my minds eye-

for some wise words

to live by.

Some days

I am the first

to admit,

I am a bit

like a gas gauge

stuck on empty.

Sweat

Sweat-

9/27/14

Breaking out

into a rash,

of ugly words

broken down metaphors

and crashed out cars

of forgotten highways

I long to pass.

 

Breaking out,

in a sweat

of random rhyme

poetry without boundaries

rhythms without meter

sadness without time.

 

and I

shiver

coldness creeps in

with the turning

flip,flip,flip

of the Fan’s silver blades

crushing the air

 

making time

stand still.

 

A writer without ideas

is like an empty blanket

encircling empty dreams.

 

Breaking out,

in a rash

Breaking out,

in  a sweat,

Breaking out

into….

 

silence

unspoken slices

of imagery

best left forgotten,

left out in the cold

forgotten from a

dream.