I crawled and crawled and crawled through this
Dark mountain of wet bloody clay clawing by chunks
Of big puppy chow kibble breaking my nails
From the dirt wedging under them inflamed and
Painful falling clumsily at the side of the precipice
Barking lacerations down the cliffside thousands
Of feet to the tree leaf ocean below where I
Crashed through the pretty green carpet to
Pachinko my way limb to limb from limb
Down to land crawling my way under hot wet
Underbrush wiping my faces with their
Leathery-thorny branches twigs under my
Eyelids parched streatching burned by the
Twinkie-colored sand under the trees
Broiled by a starry yellow sun in a blue sky
Chopped up by the stringy branches of the jungle
Dissected sunlight lay strewn on the ground
Pulsing, heating the loam and roots to consciousness
As I crawled and crawled and crawled to be with you.
Posts Tagged ‘Trees’
Untitled Poem #101
Posted: January 10, 1991 in PoetryTags: Blood, Blue, Eye, Green, Leaf, Mountain, Ocean, Pain, Sky, Star, Trees, Untitled, Yellow
Hopes and Dreams
Posted: December 11, 1990 in PoetryTags: Boy, Dream, Dreams, Gold, Heart, Hope, Imagination, Joy, Love, Magic, Michael, Purple, Time, Trees
There once was a little boy
Who had dreams which danced behind his eyes
Of magic golden cities,
People merry under purple skies;
The trees and hills behind his house
Where the young boy used to play
Would welcome him joyously
Into their arms most every day.
The boy would lay for hours
Watching people living and dying
Delighted in the magic spent
To dream without even trying
But as the boy got older
His imagination began to soften
And out to the hills and trees
He wouldn’t come as often.
Plastic guns and army soldiers,
Matchbox Cars and other toys
Stole the love and keen attention
From the helpless little boy.
The sun set silent one day
Over the lonesome trees and hills
The happy boughs and glades
Wept and sadly stood still.
No one heard their hearts break,
No one knows how they cried,
But some dreams were lost somewhere in time
When the child in Michael died.
Hunters in the Snow
Posted: October 15, 1987 in PoetryTags: Circle, Dog, Happy, Hunter, Memories, Mountains, Naked, Raven, Road, Sky, Snow, Stone, Trees, Wind, Window
The ice skaters turn and glide slowly
On the frozen ice
Oblivious
To the hunters, returning along the wintery road
Dejected and downcast
but the skaters go on skating
In their own little circles
In their own little figures
Some following and some leading
Under the grey, expecting sky.
Pausing at the outskirts of town
And looking at the scores of windswept roofs,
The lines of the gables braced against their burden
Of snow, falling sporadically,
Covering and blanketing.
Looking to the deceptively happy skaters
And those in the carriage or out on a walk
The happy cries of young playing tag on the ice
The hunter only notices; he can see the town differently, too
Huddled at the base of the hoary mountains
Rearing their stony snow-covered peaks skyward
Looming grimly, as the merciless wind blows about their feet.
Ravens sit mockingly in naked black trees
Rent of their covering leaves and stark against the snow
Or they wheel overhead, crying out harsh notes to the bleak crags.
Windows shut tight against the frost which daintily graces them.
The dirty, downtrod snow by the side of the road
Chilly air, in which his breath shows so well
And he scrunches a little deeper into his threadbare coat
And trudges after his miserably gaunt dogs
After his tired companions
Returning to a worn town
Bringing back only fruitless memories
Leaving behind only hopeless footprints.
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