Forgotten Song

The violets had been bought for the green-eyed lady. However, I had arrived beyond late... Within moments, she reigned upon my mind... And, later, she had gone. Trickling down... Such as forgotten words to her favorite song. Soon I began to misplace her solemn heirlooms. After, stories and tales the green-eyed lady had gifted me. … Continue reading Forgotten Song

Hidden on Commercial Street

Flipping of a coin from tail to head. cart-wheels on the beach. Drag Queen working the beat on Commercial street. Bare-footing, on the sultry tar. Hidden seaport cemeteries overgrown with unknown kin. Similar searches... Performed like a well manicured dance from centuries ago. Gentle Journeymen and Women with unease being the common goal. A sense … Continue reading Hidden on Commercial Street

the Middle Stooge

"I pack them up.  As if they have a choice!   Course, it has been sometime, since they have had no voice.  And, as always, 90's Reggae, is the preferred noise.   I have watched them grow. They have watched me age. There is never any wonder as to who is the wiser Sage. It … Continue reading the Middle Stooge

Carry On

Some days, no matter the physical, spiritual, mental, discomfort.  The best we can hope for is to... CARRY ON! We are shining stars We are invincible We are who we are On our darkest day When we're miles away So we'll come, we will find our way home ... Though I've never been through hell … Continue reading Carry On

Funeral Flowers

Nonsensical, since the day the illusion was conceived. An American haunting. Where homeless funeral flowers, long since dead and gone... Are the only remnants left for a breaking dawn.   Perhaps, a 'song of silence' could be how to truly run away from me. This watchful adjustment, travels great heights. Forms an ache around my … Continue reading Funeral Flowers

Granite Labyrinth

Rummaging early. There had never been a cave to hide my heart. As the strings pulled... Auspicious had been the woods, the hearth... The mangled weeded twine beneath my bare-feet... Had been only make-believe. An exclusive story for my yearned for retreat. ⊗ With a long, last. A dog, a butterfly. A road that leads … Continue reading Granite Labyrinth

A Woodsy Appeal

I drive these back roads... And, am, reminded of home. Long, desperate, going places that have passed along. Gritty browns with nameless...greens. A picturesque, quaint, scene.   Of course, I have aged like farm-stand cheddar. Tart but tasteful. with a woodsy trace. Though life has sped up. I manage to find a slower pace.   … Continue reading A Woodsy Appeal

On the Boardwalk

Sometimes, it is misery that brings me here. I once a year declaration to a mirage so close...So near. With further toil. I know that is not the end result. Turmoil...being the Utopian lack of doubt. The salt that falls between the crack in the lines. No requiem for heat. No casket for pine. Only … Continue reading On the Boardwalk

Bye and Not Gone

Never much for memories. Not much for tell-tale songs. But I loaded up today... And, I had been brought back to the notion... That you were gone.   It had not been the sun. It had not been the warmth. It had been simply... 'fare thee, well.'   Mystery starts in all that it holds. … Continue reading Bye and Not Gone

An Innocent Venture

If I asked you not to open that box. Would you not? Knowing all that I have not got? It is a box like none other. As I am sure, you are aware. There are no smooth wooden planks. It was not produce for comfort. Nor, speed. Though, build with love in mind. It did … Continue reading An Innocent Venture

Inaccurate Moments

I would stand in my darkest dawn. To bring you home from your innermost prison. The deepest desire to love you. Love us. Clarifies best... Most on partially cloudy days. With pockets of warmth from the sun's rays. When the waters recede. And, there is dew on my shoes. Inaccurate moments... When I fall back … Continue reading Inaccurate Moments

Pride for the Next Generation

“All young people, regardless of sexual orientation or identity, deserve a safe and supportive environment in which to achieve their full potential.”   Harvey Milk I found the minute that questions surfaced, with my inner self...I began to trust less.  The minute I began to dislike my choices...The more I paid into the 'oppressed minority!' … Continue reading Pride for the Next Generation

Amazon in Bohemian Clothes!

It does no good to look toward pain for, yet, another day. It will await me either way. IT will hold my hand, as it always does. Making love to me with ITS vicious touch. I will pay respect to the searing stab, as I always do. I will allot transgressions...their due.   But I … Continue reading Amazon in Bohemian Clothes!

Do Not Go Gently

I lay my head down last night.  Feeling a physical ache that not a word can describe.  I wanted to wallow in my pity.  I wanted to dunk way down into the depth of 'what I can no longer do...'self reflection!  I have Degenerative Disc Disease.  Title or no title, medical term or not.  I often … Continue reading Do Not Go Gently

When Worlds Collide

I cannot count the years I fought. To get away from you. And, as I reach for that always distant pen... I cannot bring myself to describe the where, the when. ⇔ Reaching with youthful hand. Stretching with gnarled fist. Someday, freedom will receive its wish. ⇔ When the secular hold opens a book. From … Continue reading When Worlds Collide

Walking in Recovery

Flying solo amid the haunted thicket. A travesty of my imperfections bad luck? Getting the misguides...wrong. For even a gimpy, imp, knows. It takes two to belong. ↓ When I attempted to travel the mist with loneliness in my heart. My shortcomings were longer than the sum of all their parts. With gumption...tangled in corruption, … Continue reading Walking in Recovery

Be Still the Lonely Chair

Still, the lonely chair. Sometimes placed as if, to beckon another. But below the begrudged earth... No soul mate arises from the turf. Ò When well in mind. When composed in soul. I travel by the place that claimed to make my youth whole. Ò Though the canvas seat is aware of my grace. Not … Continue reading Be Still the Lonely Chair

Containing the Fears

  With the earth wrung out from the tears. Moving waters...stood fast. Closing in. Containing the fears. ∞ Languishing over the legitimacy of soil and its girth. Many steps were taken. I was not. I am not. A plot of plans...first. ∞ Laying beneath the toil. Conceivably, annoyance, rain, sun! Destruction's attempt at love. In … Continue reading Containing the Fears

Common Call

Sticks and stones. Battle zones. A single light bulb. On a single thread for the black sirens wail. History fails. Rose-colored glass begins to age and crack. While the politicians shadowbox. The power ring in an endless split decision. Never solve anything from a neighbor's distant land. I heard the strain of the common man. … Continue reading Common Call

A Whistle from the Birch

Ominous, as the whistle through the birch. Watchful eyes. Vacant as the day, they left this earth. A distant voice. Peaceful with the way we hurt. ♥ Primitive in an organic manner. Crowded blank, planks. Rotten with the insight. A casualty has come to stay. Isolated, during early morning... When the sun rests behind shade. … Continue reading A Whistle from the Birch

Influenced By…Spring

"Some people find fall depressing, others hate spring. I've always been a spring person myself. All that growth, you can feel Nature groaning, the old bitch; she doesn't want to do it, not again, no, anything but that, but she has to. It's a fucking torture rack, all that budding and pushing, the sap up … Continue reading Influenced By…Spring

I Wish

I wish I were a lingering cloud. I would never have let you down. I wish I were a great boulder. Better able to withstand the storm. I wish I were a great manuscript. My words would be my bond. I wish I were a lilac. A forever remembrance of summer's song. I wish I … Continue reading I Wish

Wingless Bird

On a clear morning... Fable tells. You can see forever. Or, as deep as, a wishing well. ò But the dawn had not promised me,  as much as... The fate's fortune. Only pixie, pose and promise. ò High up on a tower. Could I have asked for more. A whisper... Perhaps, wingless bird alit. This … Continue reading Wingless Bird

Between a Poem and a Reflection

I brought my misery and discomfort down to the water. Washing the pain. As if it were both sane and insane. ♠ Rolling it over. Caressing all sides. A loose hallucinogenic thought from my...forever tousled head. Death, be not a, pebble or diamond... That is mulled over in the rough. Neither fractured. Or, whole. No … Continue reading Between a Poem and a Reflection

Rustic Pardoning

From the, getting gone, polyester blanket...of another's memories. An apparition approached with no words to spare. A vacant troth with not a single pitcher to fill her. In the restraint of ghostly disarray. A mongrel for written word... I had nothing to say. So much had been our way of caring without sharing. A home-built … Continue reading Rustic Pardoning

Profound is the Coven

  Just does not emerge correctly. What has been... What is left to be seen! The fallen, who have encompassed their way round unmindful feet. Crisped, insightful, deliberate, not by their own nature, everlasting...for another's defeat. The seasons have rearranged. And, lost the entitled, in winds that ravaged. In complacency, an aloof being, would use … Continue reading Profound is the Coven

Making Sunshine

13th day of dismal, delinquent weather!  Today, I must make my own sunshine! RandomwordbyRuth “My uncle ordered popovers from the restaurant's bill of fare. And, when they were served, he regarded them with a penetrating stare. Then he spoke great words of wisdom as he sat there on that chair: "To eat these things," said … Continue reading Making Sunshine

Postscript and Flowers

I held her hand. And, kissed her faded, freckled, brow. This undulating figure... Had been my mother, somehow. Beyond caring and back... What a heavy load! Beyond the walls of sleep... A figure, growing tired, getting old. ∪ Ancient birthday cards fall to my bedroom floor. Could it be? We both, deserved a little bit … Continue reading Postscript and Flowers

Interview with an Old Dog

Dog that has grown old. What use am I to you? Does the time we have shared encompass your bed? Do my words of comfort... Rest your weary head? Will our days of glory... Remind you of time being short? ♥ With confidence... Understand where this homily leads... You have protected me from monsters... Both … Continue reading Interview with an Old Dog

Daily Meditation of a Democrat

In the turmoil...that is when faith works best-RandomwordbyRuth My faith demands - this is not optional - my faith demands that I do whatever I can, wherever I can, whenever I can, for as long as I can with whatever I have to try to make a difference... America did not invent human rights. In … Continue reading Daily Meditation of a Democrat

Aesthetics of Gray on Green

Aesthetics of Gray on Green or... Typically, known as a, New Hampshire Spring ◊ A beautiful release from the powerful grip of everyday showers. With lunacy absconding, along the lines of gray. Aesthetics of green surround the heart. As though, a welcoming hand...waiting to receive. Sow the sweet. Grow the ◊ So I must … Continue reading Aesthetics of Gray on Green

Old Home Days

Slipping over my head. As though, it had been there all along. A gift of instilled courage, love and Styrofoam. A hat of... white, red and blue. Alas, for twenty-five cents, I could do no wrong. ⇔ Under the wide brim. Freckles expanding with the sun's glare. If memory serves me right. It would be … Continue reading Old Home Days

Sketchy Indulgence

Restraint by a shaft of evidence. Captivity... Not conclusive to ideals. A melancholy orange...peeled. Is it  vanity that brings me here? For every indulgence that tells me, no. For all the voices that fill an empty village and clutter the soul. In the belly below a need arises from reflective window. ♦ Such visions of clarity … Continue reading Sketchy Indulgence

Strange in Paradise

There is peace on my mind.  But in a fit of sanity, I placed it down deep where no one goes. I had been waiting for the sun to come out and, 'Hi.' However, like a cat in the night searching for non-existent light. Sometimes, satisfaction is a message I cannot always find. With a … Continue reading Strange in Paradise

Contemplating Sideways and Steve McQueen

Contemplated sideways...The hounds of hectic thought, kept me up all night.  Slanting and aside...Came accompanied with sky?  Why so blue?  Tied together with...What makes dragon's blood?  And, the myth of Elvis!   If my mind were a jukebox...It would only play my favorite song.   Something about... 'Where have all the heroes gone?' I worked … Continue reading Contemplating Sideways and Steve McQueen

the Peasant

Suffering indigent. Possibly. But it is the land that keeps us. Or, sets us free. Each to their own poetic imagery. Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning. Born of the one light Eden saw play. Praise with elation, praise every morning; God's recreation of the new day.

Naturally Devoted

If I could wrap the forest in my arms... I would, with due course, have abundant charm. ♥ Had life dealt me another hand... I would be synthetically impoverished... As in the cloth, in which I stand. ♥ A mere entity, am I. Nothing to relish. Nothing to deny. ♥ Nonetheless... I will crawl before … Continue reading Naturally Devoted

My Life or Yours?

  I wake and see her everyday.  I do not tire of this.  As her movements emblazoned themselves in my memories.  All that is  around me?  Unimportant. I have told my wife so often...I love you.  Soon, I love you, becomes commonplace and ill-fitting.  What is more fitting?  She is my life!  For living would … Continue reading My Life or Yours?

Giving Way to Simplicity

Alas, a lovely indulgence day. The sweet taste of commonplace sentiment... Just as tantalizing as dandelion wine. Almost June...Beetles, clinging to sun's light. Dawn basking in the riches given by night. Must remember... Happenstance is just a ritual to portray. Before all, this is the house that Mother built. An after thought to a handmade … Continue reading Giving Way to Simplicity

A View from the Top

A view from the top. What a sensation that must be. Watching and waiting... as the tribes scurry about in day-to-day mystery. No chastity. No lace. No preface for humanity's race. ∇ I cherish the scurrying above. Lackluster...we are taught. Maleficent is the average lot. ∇ Nay, say, I! How adventurous it would be. Predestined … Continue reading A View from the Top

Backyard Meditation

  Creature so great Creature so small. So enticing to see them all. I could spend the day transfixed. Grace in their gathering. Discipline in their gait. Hero to the backyard. Nothing in there is of waste. If I had chance to name one, or two, or three. That would over simplify my needs. For … Continue reading Backyard Meditation

Organic Manicure

Earthbound melody. Sifting thru the rust and the budding weeds. This is the place to be when wonder begins to seed. Rummaging, romping, romantics of the forest. Decadent in their delivery. Seeking clustered acorns and spurs of last year's wood. Never any thought assured. Organic manner of giving the land a manicure.    

Shallow Shelter

There cannot be a blind eye...turned to the adversary of my kind. No indifferent far off shallow shelter. Hate can have a twin. But hate cannot survive in a well-oiled, painting from the walls of my mind. I am not a lone survivor. Just another brave companion to the road. I am a survivor. Brave … Continue reading Shallow Shelter

Idle Thoughts on a Gravel Road

The air is ripe with mustard, sweet and sour. Leaflet of grass... Drenched in clove. Green onion accosting the gravel road... And, heaven's above. No trails to speak. Just an agreeable, steered,  waif. A four-legged creature... Somewhat close to the ground. Lumber some, oh the glory of! In and out of sight...without a sound.

Narrowing Sky

There are no easy roads. Street lights still hang. Ever so mysteriously by night's glare. Grave gazers still know the secret for infinity's love. Pain learns to stay... With or without reward. Sad goodbyes, linger long after the spoken word. ∇ As narrowing sky falls to the ground... Dressed as, urban decay. Sultry poignant awe … Continue reading Narrowing Sky

Cajoling Innocence

I maintain that there is a desperate social need for the creative behavior of creative individuals... In a time when knowledge, constructive and destructive, is advancing by the most incredible leaps and bounds into a fantastic atomic age, genuinely creative adaptation seems to represent the only possibility that we can keep abreast of the kaleidoscopic … Continue reading Cajoling Innocence

Bruised Impressions

Ran vagary over and over. As if, smitten by a nemesis of a four-leaf clover. There is no supremacy here, there or...anywhere. We all are diminished by the same bed of rock. No matter the choice. No matter the manner in which we leave a bruised impression. Each to their own. Put to rest by the … Continue reading Bruised Impressions

Natural Thoughts: 1

Evidently, it is not the great bow... that puts the ox to sleep. It is the folly of the age.


Dark Rooms

In the father's bag of lackluster delights. Photos, oh so still, of kindness and flowered sprites. Hand picked pixels for a child's plight. Thus, a student, I became. Chiseled out of a teachers harsh lessons. Everything beyond the four hollowed doors were overcast by rain. Infantile in thought, somehow, beauty remained.   In the age … Continue reading Dark Rooms

What She Means to Confess

Her way to stay sane. Her way to become mad. Her way to inspire. Her way to remove the plain. She is the seductive curve posing in a devil's empowering dress. The manners of a full-lipped villain. When she dips on bent knee, to confess. Whilst dangling on the threads of word. She brushes my … Continue reading What She Means to Confess

Blood in the Snow

I have walked through the hues. The dimness that a far off elongated print, upon a mountain pass. Sprayed in the virgin snow. Black as the witching hour, from afar and none to personal. Red as the noon day's sun, up close. Blood stains from a wild game. A quick removal of dignity. And, … Continue reading Blood in the Snow