NaPoWriMo Day 6: Rise

Heavenly sleep

Deep within your twisted dreams,

Streams of blackened smoke surround;

Shrouded thoughts of darkness keep.

Guardian hold you

Slow to dancing light,

Spraying  comfort to linger till eyes open;

Rise and leave these pains trapped in sleep.

NaPoWriMo Day 5: Hope is the Thing

Hope is the thing

With feathers that circles in the soul

Singing the tune without words never stopping, never shall

And sweetest in the surf is heard

Soaring beat with the storm

That could silence the little Lovebird

Keeping so many warm

I’ve heard it in the frozen lands

And on the reddest seas

Yet never have I heard it ask

Any song of me

NaPoWriMo Day 4: Sweetly Said

Sweetly said you are my everything

Through the woods and rocky shapes

Nothing said, nothing moved

Perfect still as the moments before

So I am so behooved

To tell you thus

Shamefully blushed you know it all

But sweetly said you are

NaPoWriMo Day 3: Deliciously Sweet

Stretching defiantly into the air it wavered sweet,

Aiming for any shoe, any shoe that would just grab him;

Driving for another who would mirror the things he sought,

Wishing for that one loafer in which he could be caught.

Forcefully and maniacally it came before he knew,

Sweeping the slimy stickiness from the gravel pavement.

“At last,” he swooned as wind rushed madly through his open arms,

As sneaker scrapped so ferociously maiming all his charms.

NaPoWriMo Day 2: The Night Before

stars

i never saw any so pretty

as those the night before

the blaze was ever burning

ashes sifted, scattered to the earthen floor

faces shifted with dying screams

timber screeching, reaching into the darken sore

but i never saw any so peaceful

as those stars outreached above

blinded to the people crying

so removed from pain and gore

NaPoWriMo Day 1: The Easiest Thing

it is the easiest thing

just rolls off the tongue

a breeze that you sail upon

good-bye you yell

as they bellow back

a regular linguist don juan

it takes hours this joyful bliss

a confident builder plus

a public mess

that lifts the spirit

it’s a beater of the bust

Excerpt From A Travel

The whistle blows, the scenery engulfs for a split second in a rush of snow, it is winter.  The blistering cold of the north winds and the sweet smell of burnt chocolate and rubber fills the air.  I, sitting ever so confidently with my three dollar hot cocoa and water, am watching it all roll over the hills of Illinois and starting a new when it hits a plateau.

 

It is neither the past or the future, but whether it is the present, well, I’ll leave that for you to decide.  I pass thousands and thousands of houses with smoke pillowing from their quaint brick-layered chimneys.  Everyone seems content with their everyday lives, but I suppose everything seems that way when you’re always moving.  It’s funny, I guess, thinking about dancing, plastic flamingos on a stranger’s lawn or even a mischievous gnome in your own.  Someday I’d like to own a boat so that I can float away in unknown waters whenever I desire.  Someday.

 

More houses, trees, snow.  In just four hours I would have traveled worlds over by the window seat of a train.  I started in building-to-building windy city Chicago, one ant amongst millions in a colony, when I arrive I’ll be in, sure enough, Kirkwood, MO. The towering trees, swaying grass, and hometown folks will greet me with waves and lingering smiles.  The sun will warm my cheeks.  I’ll drive miles to get to my homestead in which I’ll take a moment to socialize and reflect the fruit of my journey.  Perhaps, I’ll even read this passage aloud.  Anything is possible when you’re in a different world.