Statues stop me

I stand abruptly in wonder

paralyzed in transition

as I look and ponder

to feel the presence

of a figure so grand

I stare with insistence

wanting motion of sand

an acknowledgement

of historic lotion

a blink of the eye

a wave of the hand, a potion

or a quiet voice

speaking with command

Cristo del Otero

a Palencian chorus in band

Hanuman Murti blushing in power

we soak in dominance

from purpose of fear

the sword rises in prominance

running to the tomb

of Buddha in Leshan, in hiding

the shimmering gold

of Great Matzu is blinding 

we evade one passion

only to view another

as the spear of Lord Shiva

is poised for new thrust to smother

Liberty is felt

in the skyward art

that points us to forever

that is future and past, I impart

as I unveil my heart

surrendering to stone

as my humilty

is the shadows of throne

8-22-14 DBP

Desk on a Porch

I am sitting so far

from my childhood bizarre

children scratching

their etchings attaching

the laughter and teasing

never ceasing

But it made me feel

a friendship congealed

Where sitting, so essential

whether for eyes or pals, preferential

and I could sense

the love letters dispensed

Sometimes a pointer

pounded, my scars anointed

and tears might drop

on my saddened top

Sometimes I was moved

in a circle approved

scraping the floor

facing front no more

The school now condo

and I am in rondo

laying in shade

without practising trade

David comes out

many mornings, no flout

he acknowleges me as treasure

and I see him in pleasure

he sits in his chair adjacent

creating me in nascence

thinking of school

and the Golden Rules

He thinks the lunch pail

is appropriate in grail

as in lengthy recess

I wait for the chidren, my address


The Eyes of My Mind

I suppose

in retrospect

nothing is invisible

we see things

with our eyes

or our imagination

one could argue

we don't

"see" things

that we don't



if we don't understand things


they don't exist

at least in our own world

and let's face it

we are all really

in our own world

like a voyage at sea

our vision is afar

the infinite

sea to see

and when we dream

we see so timeless

and with eyes ashut

strange colours

and glitters

our brain aflutter

working alone


as I think

or think to think

I realize that

when you comprehend

the words of others

you say

"I see"

You see?

DBP 8-19-14

So Bad

so hard to define

doesn't actually matter 

if it doesn't rhyme

opinion or fact

or musing or rant 

it's just what the writer

wants to project

if the speling is badd

I don't care

I get the jist

and hope it's radd

sex and violence

is allowed


I prefer good taste

and humanity bestowed

play on words is cool

and limerick as a rule

makes me laugh

as there was a poet named Nash

whose could write those things in a dash

he wrote about fleas

stuck in a flue with flies

they left through a flaw

in a flash

but putting aside

deep intellect and pride

I have no conclusion to state

some are berated

but as fairness is due

the misfits are best

they write and laugh

in a creative fest

and don't say if the poem

is doo doo


Response to "2039"

Feline and Canine Worlds

There could be two versions

one so dreary

the other so cheery

yes, I fear the choice is a challenge

the world so polluted

that man is choking

and anger invoking

the powers that be unmoved

the violence continues

and hatred remains

greed rules with disdain

as we crawl in desperate fatigue

But I prefer to hope

that love conquers all

but for that, something must fall

as we collect it, and ensure it's demise

The rivers still flowing in exuberance

and the water so pure and fresh

enough for all, to feel ameshed

one world in spirit and goal

But for that, some help

will come from the stars

maybe Green families from Mars

will frolic and embrace us in aid

or children will rule

what a glorious thought

to upstage us in all that they sought

we smile and play in simple refrain

one last idea though

maybe our pets will take hold

the dogs and cats, we'll do as we're told

but hey! we already do!

DBP 8-21-14

The Hole

I was strolling

'oer the hills

the grasses sweeping

through evening chills

the sun was setting

the field was lit

so daintily

with stars so writ

the esker came

with rocky ridges

and a large round hole

a vacuous bridge

I shouted with anticipation

the echo resounded

I asked myself

what had been found

the hovel so tiny

no entry seemed hopeful

so I imagined what lay

in the village so gropeful

little men I thought

the bats as kings

the stalactites dripping wine

rounded 'mites as slings

the diminutive girls

were dancing with glee

the flittermice so gaga

dining in decree

the walls were covered

in drawings of snakes

and ornamental Gods

ancient Bat Queens like crakes

the music was squeaky

the butlers so quiet

the crickets in choir

in volumous vocal diet

trying to climb

the seats of the gentry

the scorpians planned

to invade their sentry

the beetles sang to

in unison of four

a hard days night

the party went till mor'

This fantasy world

a chiroptera society

caste in it's past

lacking in piety

I left the passage

thinking maybe to crawl

but the crevice to small

and my mind too unthralled

DBP 8-12-14

The Voice

a vocal refrain

of sweat and strain

of a lucid mind

or swirling glance

she sounds so sweet

I feel her heat

as she immerses from inside

the temperance of her face

I must join in

as my passions din

and my heart aflutters

as her sounds love mutters

she has seemed, never closer

as the waves touch me ribose

her eyes are twinkling

my heart is blinking

Her vibrato shakes me

as I quiver so nervously

the arousal kisses me

and I swoon in melody

I take her in my arms

her humming disarms

I am breathless with nummed lips

as she squeezes me, unyielding

We match our eyes

calm smiles reprise

briefly aware

of our bare

DBP 4-18-14


Lurking or stirring

still or transfixed

the shadow's strength

lying in it's mystery encurring

It can be challenged

but not defeated

moved, but not unseated

despised but not angered

Hand silhouettes

a game to play

and camera creations

for Hitchcock suspence displayed

Solid, liquid or gas

I do not know, alas

a friend in warning

and a signal of time

A colossus reflecting

an image so near

perhaps it is me

a giant of man to fear?

As I look to the artist

to mirror the scene

another place the same

touching perfect in ream

Another and another

a seemingly infinite sight

as long as there is light

and dark to be other

We have the cameo delight

that inspires so bright

a cinema grip

enticing our bitter sip

DBP 8-4-14


three doorways

chronicling moorways

rolling in flatness

in Baskervillian splendour

open yet closed

sanity indiposed

hidden passages

of many insecure options

with galleried illustrations

framed to confused peceptive stations

caged cubes

diametric or spaced for rodents

crossing walls as if infinite

heading to rooms that ignite

creative tension

spinning in stubborn lines

growing like rectangular cells

hardwood strips accentuating linear quells

unreality juxtaposed

a journey to the staircase

escalating to pottery and sculpture

or a suspended courtyard in culture

marrying the "teriors" 

messages walled in dialect

a hunt for clues that roam

to clarify a vision of home

DBP 8-16-14

Pressing Issue

Dirty work is fine

even hard scrubbing

can be divine

Cleaning the stove

is OK

a filthy toilet

needs work, that's fine

The fridge gets mouldy

and starts to smell

hey, that's swell

a good clean I can dwell


doesn't really suck

(the hose could be stuck)

and dishes

although not my wishes

give an option to dry

but Sigh


I hate

I put off until late

those wrinkles persist

and I insist

to air dry instead

but if I must

it's press or bust

and I hope

that black iron oxide

clears up, besides

I can Glide my way

with some spray

and hope things flatten

and make my day

DBP 8-4-14

The Horse Trilogy

1- Sam the Ham

Old Sam, sad and begotten

his eyes so drooping

the milk route forgotten

and friends in trouping

His back asway

his walk delayed

as the flying roses

delight his day

he stops in retire

but strangely serene 

on the chocolate buds

and stems of green

The cob-like pedestals

that honour his loyalty

announce his rest

and love of new fest

large sunken hooves

and meandering tail

portray his travail

as pauses in approve

Of his equus heart

and his field to prance

Old Sam can be thankful

and join in natures dance...

DBP 7-29-14

2- Monument to Plop

On the trail

so dusty and brown

the clippity-clop

of the equus clown

his back a sway

as he plops and prods

but still smiling amidst

the dry winds that play

that resounding clap

applauding the plains

as musical Grofe rains

on the tumbleweed map

a chorus so rythmic

a patter of western tale

revealing a west

that fought to prevail


3- Cobblestones

Clopping is the sound

of a beautiful bound

I can hear the click

not so lickety-split

sort of a "loud" patter patter

a so happy clatter 

as the horses heels

sway and reel

there is no rush

soft stone to crush

as the mane in flow

blows back in fro

he smiles in glee

large teeth to see

as the clop sings

a song that rings

DBP 7-29-14

Quips Ahoy

A bite so sweet

it can't be beat...

the recipe found

on the browser so profound

Adding the HTTP

an ingredient so searched

facilitating the bake

that has me in lurch

The data is stored

I historisize my method

stateful information implored

my past simmered in lore

My results so authenticated

for third-party reputation afix

beyond the basics

that are required in mix

There is flour and eggs, 

and shortening with sugar

elsewhere called biscuit

here a quickbread in tisket

We like our cookies

sometimes spicey and seasoned

chocolate and fruit

peanut butter, and nuts so reasoned

Made into animals

and Pinwheels so cut

Biscotto and shortbread

Fat Rascals in a rut

the counter a mess

like flies in a graveyard

pestle aflutter

sticking to the butter

Vintage blondies and brownies

snickerdoodling and caking

While the Rosette is digesting,

I consider my Fortune ingesting

I think in my stirring

how to create with more style

I must be a koekje

determined to rile

Resolute to be praised

as a baker who has molded

an aspiring career

that has neber enfolded

So I must understand, about

the viscosity of oils

and whether to press

or put in a mold as I toil

Making a sandwich

of Oreo constitution 

or choosing oatmeal and raisin

but I Drop what Im doing

The burn is ensuing

I forgot about the first sheet

at least turn down the heat

or remove it for reviewing



usually disbelief
or mishearing the phrase
sometimes thinking
you're in a delusional phase

"so what" I say
if I don't comprehend
hiding my ignorance
no truth to send

when I mention a strange
seed that I am planting
"sow what" asked my friend
his question decanting

and when I referred
to fixing my trousers
and sewing the rear
that was torn by a schnauzer

my buddy replied
"sew what" in a thread
of interested voice
as if punched in the head

so "what" is a word
of fascinating plight
especially when combined
when another word's in sight

DeaBeePea 5-16-16


my pen pal is rather skinny and I hate to say a bit of a ninny she likes to say "Well, flick my Bic" and sometimes calls me a stupid dick this doesn't sound nice but this is her way to rebel from snobbery her blueblood stay she's good on paper but not much more and occasionally blots if shaken up or sore but she is a friend she writes with love despite her faults she's my ballpoint dove DeaBeePea 5-18-16


not requiring athleticism
this split is mine
full of favourite flavours
that leaves me feeling fine

a banana, but not Chiquita  
just passed green
fresh and eggy ice cream
with that French Vanilla glean

that syrup that so buttery
with brown sugars cuddle
streaming over the hills
a triple mountain muddle

the pecans and cashews are talus
the foothills they do settle
and the chocolate cream looks down
with its smooth empirical mettle

but no maraschino for me
maybe a splot of avocado kerplop
or something very elegant
to ignite a fiery top

DeaBeePea 5-19-16

When Words Don't Say It
how dare they say that it never really happens because my words are magic lilting poetry so tragic and sometimes witty and sharp the voice of brilliance I say yes vanity is my strength as I listen to myself at length it's not easy being profound twisting words and phrases playing with dancing letters there is no one who is better I sing my praises proudly I'm an arrogant SOB but self-awareness allows me to take a stately bow so please remember fully that my writing is the best my sentences flow like rivers sending romantic quivers if you think my attitude is suspect and you think I'm a pompous ass you might just be right but I am a genius... of literary might DeaBeePea 5-20-16



Time is a mystery

we live with it night and day

every night

and every day


we never get to know it

its quickening speed

unendurable slowness

teasing us at play


just a minute

is never assured

it’s just a phrase

of immeasurable seconds


we have abn hour

we sometimes call seven days

and weeks turn to months

age our new age beckons


oldness or newness

we are never quite sure

a matter of perspective

as we glide through blue and grey


they say it flies

this element of space

but its wings are inside us

as our minds’ conclusions delay


all through the ages

we use the mother sun

and its rays that we absorb

in a timely and glowing sphere


the moon responds

with its expression of wonder

staring in eclipse

boasting its lunar year


more complex it gets

and more than watches we brandish

as things tick in disharmony

so difficult to measure


so now I intend

to ignore the minutes

and measure by breath

and accomplishments pleasure

DeaBeePea 5-22-16

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