Tag: poetsofwordpress

Can you see

That thing in my rear view,

Flying at me?

Don’t say that we’re now through.

Polite carcasses

Make good soup.

Concrete messages

Accompanied your flute.

I like the piano

In that serenade.

Please, play.

Just one more day.

Follow me

Up the hill,

Then down

Into the bay.

Something smoothe

Goes true as few

And don’t say moo

Unless I ask you.

Start to decide.

We’ll go for a ride

To the other side.

I’ll seek. You go hide.

Oh, so I tried and tried

To make it fly.

But it just sat there

Then went inside.

Can you see how true

The red, white and blue?

Can you feel the shake

Of my knees as they quake?

Baloo is a bear

And I am a man cub.

What are you?

Ask me a question.

I’ll try not to lie.

I’ll give you an answer,

And then I shall fly

Away from here,

To a desert island

Where none shall fear.

Let’s do the twist

In the midst of this trip.

Let’s go to the end

And try not to spend

All of our wind,

My friend.

Do you deliver?

Is this for dine in or carry out?

Don’t forget to take out the trash.

And where

Is the Batman?

Meandering along,

I am struck by the thought

That it’s been a while

Since I’ve seen you.

So, perhaps, we can

Get together soon.

Ocean blue

For miles and miles,

Across the horizon.

A bird catches flight,

Nearby.

Where will it go from here?

Nobody knows,

And nobody can predict

What that bird will do.

I cannot. Can you?

Nature is unpredictable.

So is humanity.

And some are more than others.

Crawling out of my cave,

I search for a stick or a stone.

But, alas, my hands are empty.

Maybe I can find a pool of water.

And there, just over a hill,

Lies a little lake.

I bend over to take a drink,

And I see my reflection.

How unsightly!

I must bathe at once,

So I am clean and lovely.

But then what will happen

To the drinking water?

I must think about this.

It concerns me.

It flows down

From the mountain peaks,

To fill this basin.

It flows naturally.

And what comes and goes

In infinity,

Lives up to the saying,

“What will be, will be.”

I’m growing old

Like an oak tree.

I spread my limbs

To reach out to others,

To reach for the sky,

To carry a bird or squirrel.

Yes, I’m growing old

But I have a purpose about me!

I have knots in my roots.

I have places where some

Have cut me, severing my body.

But oh, to live and breathe

For a century!

I love the earth.

I love soil and rain and grass.

I love bees and beetles.

Oh, to be free!

Dangling from my branch

Is a rope swing

And a child holds on happily,

While he twists and turns

Swaying back and forth.

Oh, to be friendly!

I am growing old

But today I’m in victory!