Not Looking
I walked on the deck
not looking at my step
up ahead
was danger imbed
suddenly I screamed
my foot aseamed
through it went a rusty nail
tetanus must prevail
DBP 9-14-14
Must I Rust?
I ask myself
is rust a must?
things turning to dust...
is there any sust
...tenance to the gust
of thought, just
thinking about the thrust
of oxidation abust
and role of electrolytes in trust
oxygen and iron in lust?
a creative crust
yes, I am nonplussed
so confused I almost cussed
chemical reactions, and metals that combust
are not my minds robust
alloys so trussed
some by winds are bussed
my mind must adjust
and avoid galvanized disgust
9-14-14 DBP also known a "Rusty"
BLUELY
Bedroom eyes
seductive glance, reprise
a puffy and glancing blow
blue and so true
trillium poppies
drowsy and soppy
limbs elongating
a bit of a stretch
lingering thoughts, propogating
and a swollen mind
sore but no anger
fatigued in ache
body on hanger
sleep beckoning
a pillow in sphere
rivers of dread appear
but faith observed
tomorrow brings
delight deserved
9-13-14
Blinding Shades
never before
have I seen more colour
so many varieties
of Feng Shui rue
in spew, reds and yellows
some like nectarines
and lemon jello
jiggling in the breeze
as the maples sneeze
the chlorophyll waves
goodbye to summer
sunny fall days despite
the cool autumn night
the red explodes
in fruity tones
blueberry and cherry
plum and cranberry
exploding with lust
for winters crush
deep orange of carrot
and daffodil so bright
projecting new light
sienna so modest
shadowing
as the Aureolin and tangerine
celebrate fall scene
while some dark in folly
ease into the season soon jolly
unlike the Cadmium
a papyrus lemon
with sparkling venom
oh such a portrait
a pallett untouched
until a magic brush
sweeps away rust
the gradual drop
to grounds
of horses clop
the dancing of children
and tossing of piles
they turn to terra of miles
preparing for white
for another year
of stunning plight
Hulitoon by Rebecca Hulit
9-12-14
Of Red and Gold
"Les feuilles mortes"
1945
death rears it's song
Kosma sings
and Prevert rings
Mercer adopts
and adapts to new world
Miss Stafford elocutes
lyrics twisted and curled
cinematic too
as Nat does croo
so sweet and mellow
and haunting too
Andy and Frank
on the west bank
and Sergio cries
and even the Coasters
deserving of roasters
the jazzers were snazzier
as Ella and Sarah
made it their own
O'Day did say
drift by my window
luscious dreams
and flights of coloured streams
Chet was smooth
caressing his horn
and voice so born
in confections home
the giant Oscar
tinkling so grand
embellishing melody
sprinkling sand
a wonderful ode
recorded so many
a tribute to art
and autumn leaves
when they begin to fall
9-12-14
Cooking
recipes I try
don't always succeed
but the comments vary
and some I don't heed!
Cookies that are hard
rice so burned
lasagna that is soup
gourmet techniques, the hard way learned
Too much salt
too much curry
I guess I was in a hurry
ignore the jury
Too much jalapeno
at least assuring some amino
smothered in butter
Im not a calorie cutter
But my ribs are great
apricot sauce and thyme
so zesty (not sublime)
and chili ketchup that rates
And pumpkin soup
the roux is key
herbs and onion touches
creamy glee
My bean sauce so bittersweet
with bacon and must
sour cream is delightful
my tummy abust
But too me as I endeavor
to make a meal that deivers
I shrug my shoulders
It's good enough!
DBP 8-3-14
Good Enough 2
I am writng this verse
as a sequel to cooking
but it will be absurd
and ill deserved of booking
It is kind of a dessert
sweet and cool
a spoon to serve
into mouth as a tool
one can cook dessert
but as a child
a can of applesauce
was all, rather mild
Im testing the audience
by writing so bland
to see if it's acceptable
as laughter canned
so if this effort is good enough
then you guys are lacking
in taste of lines
and are truly slacking
8-3-14
The Man on Wall
the hand
how many turn?
the knurled wand
to room so vast
the enterer, an iconoclast
maybe presidents
some inventers
old and young mentors
unlatching with fear
a mood of persuasion
or curiosity on occasion
tarnished brass
copper of old
and zinc be told
wearing history
with secretive mystery
the man awaits
in chair or wall
framed so stolid
imposing with pall
vinegar can remove
both messages told
from handle or portrait
linked in time
by insects in rhyme
mirrored in silence
until convention is stirred
the family persists
status never deterred
wealth entrusted
on chairs so tufted
Persian rug the field
were mighty men
don't yield
future plans delayed
debt and scandal
carelessly played
9-2-14 DBP
TURNING
The leaves have fallen off the trees,
the once white snow has darkened,
blending in with the soiled squares
some birds still claim a home, harkened
noisy and bustling,
amidst tired daytime people,
and people of the night, rustling
Neon signs glitter, but letters are missing
Windows invite us inside,
but are cracked and glazed with grime
Children runabout, not all with glee,
but anxious confusion to share
the wind howls, a change in weather, a change in time
clocks warn of another hour,
sad of a missed past to scour,
or anticipation of a strained future
brakes screech, but it's only okay until next time,
the taverns brag of offerings,
competing for the fuel for soul
and fences stream about in like gaol,
signalling a privacy, that is actually fear
litter is strewn about, laziness or apathy
or disrespect
unaware of careless circumspect
horns honk, telling us that we are in the way
we are a threat before we are friends
conflict suspended in the airway
reminds us that we have mislaid
our values that once were staid
people carrying baggage,
not vacations and holidays
but grief, sorrow, and vacant nays
never finding where the path begins
looking for little white pebbles,
like Hansel and Gretel, few in sins
Is there a home at the beginning,
or at the termination,
or is our only home in our heart
as we build the walls of endless part
3-11-13
Framed
Lost horizons
The picture fazed
No sides or tops
Questions raised
Three dimensions
With no borders
Photographers
Not taking orders
It is whole
In my eyes
But my mind
Seems to despise
My imagination
Forms the image
Though hazy and strange
As if a mirage
For confirmation
Response I wait
Laughter or sadness
Or a greyish state
So I conclude
As I engage
That what I see
Is just a stage
But these layers
Are so frequent
That I perceive
My thoughts delinquent
DBP 8-31-14
2196
1896 so kind
horse-drawn traffic
to a bucolic town
Monticello dripping in richness
so fresh and divine
but later raised in surrender
of progress
only envisioned
not claimed as it were
a valley lifted
not far, but gone
three perfect arches
the strongest they could be
doorways to heaven
and a past that disappeared
they smile in pride
not defeated in drown
still waiting for a century
when we go back to friendship
with what we were born
so huge it engulfs you
in humility and aghast
Putah Creek Bridge
alive and awaiting
it's reign in the valley
DBP 8-30-14
Luminess
she is beautiful
in heart and soul
her thoughtful eyes
help me rise
in mornings song
the music a throng
of chirps and whispers
the day so calm
the storm no threat
I open my palm
my images to whet
I hear a voice
from afar, southern
the belle ringing
in joyous echo
a cavernous bringing
of love that clings
I cannot define
the worship so strong
but the celebration
is a bong
that sounds
like my beating heart
8-28-14 DBP
FREEDOM
to be named so wild
oh! what a joy
to ramble so freely
must demand to be coy
we claim to be free
but we seem to be chained
but these butterflies of the woods
of gay abandonment remain
cheddar pink
so fermented
in serrated silence
purple and demented
from the windy plain
a carrion call
embracing cloves
in Illinois fall
the western shore
burning as fire
the kindling sparkles
in blooms the Squire
invasive replies
with cultivars by side
the forest floor
covered in each plants chide
those climbing clusters
shimmering in shade
the willowherb cries
to the sun's golden raid
the pheasant looks on
his reflection quite shy
but browed in brown
handsome in reply
scattered in carnival
colours to revere
a midway of colour
in petals of cheer
DBP 9-1-14
SHUT UP
I can just hear
these two, going at it
a loud raucous banter
like an intoxicated Cantor
nose to nose
and brow to brow
nothing being solved
insanity has evolved
whether bad hair day
or sleeping on the wrong side
there isn't much use
to argue with abuse
but I guess it's natural
for some to fight
as their insecurities
create impurity
I can see the circles,
they are talking in
'round and 'round
in annoying sound
spinning their tales
and embellishing skill
spiraling out of order
breaking their mortar
the short one is more
aggressive I think
compensating for size
to win the prize
but there is no winner
just exhaustion and ache
whether politics or jealously
their behaviour over-zealous
DBP 8-30-14
Page Turner
the life of books
not static as foreseen
up and down
and spiralling so mien
a maze of letters
and words profound
others in satire
mysteries found
ladders and trolleys
riding through dreams
looking for answers
and elaborate schemes
the sun so high
straining to elucidate
the books so canyoned
in the depths of sate
fitting to whisper
solemnity for author
to here each creek
a song of other
binding in freedom
each idea his own
encased like Edam
the story ends
but not for long
each chapter sends
us to another page
8-29-14 DBP
