The Woman...

I remember her face

and languid smile

the long wavy hair

teasing in guile

somewhere between,

auburn and vermile...

The occassional laugh

as if rehearsed

the eyes that twinkled

but were sad in verse

the silky dress that carressed

and kissed her thighs so sylph

The legs that played

uncrossing and crossing

guessing at intent

white wine in hand, displayed

wrist softly bent, 

gently sipped, so recherche

Her mouth was almost motionless

as she talked

and her hands were quiet, notionless

except to correct

an errant coiffure

that broke the white plainess

The unbroken facade

the darkness and flickering light

changed the tone of her face

from azure to a pink delight

a kaliedoscopic image

that passed into my dreamlike mirage

Another night perhaps

or was opportunity averted

I seemed seduced

in transfixation, converted

to a voice I heard singing 

the notes angelike and ringing...

"The sun has set

and I regret

the unknowing glances

of my love beset...

my days are hopeful

my dreams so elopeful..."

Will there be a search

or just an acceptance

an enchantment lived

a doubt forgived

a shyness enlived

the woman

name unavailable

7-8-14 DBP


the golden sand

of tiny mountains

the burial of Suriname

four irregular wooden bands

two walking

only in today 

as the leatherback's day

spent singing it's lute

investing time 

to investigate

his jellied prey

the hazey distance sublime

implies desertion

as the choppy water's ridges 

tipped with swarms of midges

echo reminders 

to the steady hills 

the finely divided quartz 

coral, and shellfish

argonites patternless and still

as the water waits

to form little grain-to-grain bridges 

but no children play..bridges

forming rubberbands for castles

between the grains 

The carousing shelonian 

it's carapace glistening

like a tear shaped oil mane

moving porpoise like 

countershading,  deceptive trait

settling for tunicates

The medicine man's mysteries

the deceased in throng 

never passing 

as the gifts are shared

but invisible in objective belong

the smoking pipes

a part of the mist

the circle of life consists

in miniscule valleys of silent loess

nature revered 

the journey shared

anthropods and reptiles

and granule mites so mere

and ritual of mind

time undefined 

and tranquility mesmerizing 

Nature revered in myth

Photo by Marco Pucci

7-9-14 DBP


the changing identity

at one time so simple

head lettuce, tomatoes 

some oil, and mushroom pimple

cole slaw and macaroni

and fruit so tangy

egg that is willowy

jello and cottage so billowy

Now...Waldorf, Ambrosia

and Caesar romaine

and the artichoke heart

joins the Nicoise fain

and Greek a fetad delight

a Snickers so decadent

a chilied Crab Louie

and an antipasto polite in bite

to listall the potions

would take all year

and makes me quander

what a salad notions

a little of this to chop

a little of that to dice

a touch of herb

and a touch of spice

vegetables of all colours

beans of all vines and strings

smoked meats so sweet

and exotic cheeses that sing

a dressing of wine

olive oil and juicy zest

vinegar and chopped pepper

and tarragon sublime

so today I will throw 

ten things in a bowl

toss it up in a flurry

and call it salad in a hurry

6-30-14 DBP

The Wedding at Butterscotch Bridge

the tiger-lily swans

valentined in betrothal

on the liquidous lawns

spreading their bubbles of crystalized footprints

the rushes are bullish

some erect, some overcome

celebrating in sedge

with the reed mace in scrum

the blue bird harbinger depiction

oracle bone inscription

deep in the frothy bed

the awakened messenger Immortal

the cone headed celantine herons

scheming in the distance

about to drown to undersea barrens

engulfed in malty foam so spiced

the infinite reflection

from the butterscotch bridge

the lovers will cross the ridges

Brown Sugar and Treacle

together in confection


Art by Rebecca Hulit

6-30-14 DBP

Mutt and Jeff

what is an eye ku?

a long pointed stick

that protrudes from your pupil

and pokes others in the eye so slick

or lodges in their nostril

the purpose is unknown

it may be a wakening device

or a nose cleaner

but now that I think of it, not nice

it could knock out a tooth or two

that would make it a vice

yes...a weapon!

Do Mutt and Jeff

have the intelligence enrolling

in courses to know that?

unless Mutt drew the Egyptian scrolling

that would make him

an اكتب النص الخاص بك هنا ...extolling

with his whiskers

primitive jaw outward strolling

and elongated

throat fruit of eden

so barbara-ious

Jeff with that fiery imperial

and skull in dual

seems an ignoramous

or has simply been mislead...a fool?

but his wrench like lobe

implies wisdom, no ghoul

so maybe he knows

eyeku...the soul of symbols


a multimedia approach, not elementary

to visual

we ponder his origin, metamorphary 

and function

so explains his poke-r face 

did he sink the ku ball?

Art by Rebecca Hulit

DBP 7-2-14


a land flooded with salmon

sheets of buffalo

over the prairies they flow

Beotuk and Assiniboine

and courier de bois

icy rivers so bold

the tundra dotted 

with giant white bears

pristine waters crisp and cold

stream from our lakes so lush

now so largely of cities

where ethnicity abounds

a global invitation

feeding from a freedom of ideal

civilizations adjoined to heal

Canadian pioneers

in medicine and health

suffrage, civility, science, and art 

portraits of courage and heart

beauteous appreciation so galleried

but fossiled powers

persist in permanence

corrupting with greed

as death and poverty succeed

poisoning our brothers and children

while God's earth cries for rest

Beauty surrounds us

fighting back in quest

sometimes with calm

sometimes with vengeance

We think of castles

falls and rivers and mountains

forests decorated in tassle

and glacial lakes

miles of endless highway

and rugged stormy coasts

but what really stands

so glorious and free

though sadly distorted

behind those mirrors of tapestry

is our search for peace

and the wealth of soul for all

7-1-14 DBP


The old town

memories of portraits

sketched in the sunlight

on cobbled streets

bustling with fun and delight

pubs in caves 

and eateries so exquisite

enjoying Rillettes de sanglier et de caribou

with chutney de canneberges

the setting so tranquil

yet absorbed in celebration

the sponges of time a sequel

soaking us with romance

and squeezing us with love

As Salade panachée

caresses our tongue

and Fruits de mer à notre façon 

tantalizes our tasteful impressions so young

the beauty of ancienne canadien

historic Maison Jacquet

from Ursuline nuns

Solid, thick walls and pastoral wainscots

home to Gaspe and a myth

of Montcalm

the stars reflecting from delicate muntins

as grilling surprises become

aromas and impositions inside and out

tabled in delicacy and mature felicity

Palladian in concourse

as the pedestrains are devised

by sidewalk artists

and joyous buskers, songs revised

as the Rhododendrons and boxwood

trim the paths

as wolf eyes look on

Stepping on bevelled pavers

touching the French doors handle

comforted by Soupe aux pois Grand-mère

and relatives of fellowship

today disappears as we dare

to wallow in innocence

inheriting a new identity and spirit

DBP 7-3-14

I'm Hiding

I am hiding

but don't really want to

there is nothing to hide


I know my thoughts and feeling

are not unique to me, besides

so why not spill

and not worry so much

about wiping up

But I do, the cloth I fill

what is the fear

humiliation or conclusion

so silly really

so I seek devices to cheer

that allow me to fool

and some are fun

like writing and transposing

interpreting and involving, no rule

in the end

each story complete

and strangely all are happy

because my tale, I fend

is an adventure

in investigative reporting

a headline of passion

sharing and laughter

each day 

bringing me closer

to the judgement and exposure


Fire Flies

Fire screams

on the verge

quietly simmering reams

waiting to explode

flames skyward danger

as pointed as spears

thirsting for fuel

dancing in scalding anger

each wing flutters

as the birds of blaze utter

a crackle of warning

snapping at snuffers

looking for the easiest conduction

changing the colour of calidity

orange and blue induction

scorching ribbons

flickering wavelets

whitecaps in hell's ocean

threatening to capture notion

and expose our fears

the coals of whitening hues

turning ashen

our faces dread

as the battle ensues

wanting to rage

destructions spreads, but yields

new birth aspires

in the funerals fields

taking comfort

when confined in hearth

enamoured by the quiet cries

as fire flies


It's a knightly

so handsomely turreted 

the small window encasing the cone

so secretive and alighting

the pompous porch so embracing

modestly complimented, tracing

with winsome wicker

and adorning balustrades

before the customary meeting

the "bless this house" greeting

welcomes me

above the spandrels

the mezzanine columns

alighned like soldiers

the scrolling salutes allow

I contemplate a bow

the sidelit door

is so profound, it's glare to pass

it's valanced pedament

of Maltese glass

I paralyze momentarily

cherishing each sumptuous symbol

as the triple fenials in vastness

intimate an almost fearful steadfastness

the running trim of gargoyle abstractions

almost chase me

as if I, myself

am perceived as an abberation

I laugh at my intimidation

and  take in the sun

as it beams through the corniced windows

as the family shadows lurk as one

finally in my ingress

an almost tumultuous address

no graceful order

just a barrage of voices and arms

the smiling faces gleam

with the glistening oak canvas, a stream

so lingering as to be endless

strips travelling beyond the hearth

the large iron andiron and crane

vacuous arch and monumental mantle

a sea of flames, never to feign

waving flittering flares

my quarters upstairs

a sustained spiralling ascension

a lofty baldachin

and bed for a king

fostered by a rural repast

fresh sprouts, yellow beans

white turnip with mustard greens

crowned with Delmonico roast

preparing to retire, I ponder

the massive wall of literary wonder

"The House at Midnight"

announces it's grand manor

certainly fitting before the lull

and encouraging for dreams

as the sounds of the night

whisper in haunting delight

DBP 6-26-14


We all have perspective

some more knowingly

than others

a hidden directive

some women have "pursepective"

but that thought is so narrow

silly me

a fault of mental marrow

many men like to win or lose

the spirit of gamesmanship

rather simple

along with women and booze

children look for love and conveyance

but sometimes show us the way

fewer obstacles

they delight us like a sunshine's ray

our pets seem to need us

we talk of their affection and faith

licking our faces

quenching the lonliness of wraith

martians know us well

but we are not aware

close minded

our outlook needs repair

the businessman looks at profit

sometimes, angry, I say "come of it"

but work we must

I suppose, options are bust

lawyers look at the loopholes

of which there are many

sneaky, I guess

but who will confess?

actors perform, some by "the method"

others simply as directed

but we watch

intrigued by the role they selected

musicians sing into our hearts

they seem to understand our inner parts

we hear our chords

as they strum our memories and thoughts

the misfits are impartial

writing of the endless possibilities


encouraging infinite abilities

now there is me...almost unhinging

with passion for poems, jazz and film

so I write

to prime my blood of over binging


Clown With Teeth

usually they're scary

these incisored jokers

molared with a grimace

and fangs like pokers

Pennywise is "It"

preying on kids

not funny at all

as the pretext forbids

but there is no reason why

teeth can't be funny

stubby and sweet

on a face that is sunny

DeaBeePea 9-21-15


when one is away

catching up is not law

but when it comes to the misfits

I feel that it's a flaw

to avoid the past challenges

missing the thoughts

of the comrades of words

and memories in jot

DeaBeePea 9-21-15

Wake Up

say something dumb

or lacking in perspective

you might get yelled at

or given correction

or just a command

that implies your dozy

"Wake up dummy!"

and stop that mosey

DeaBeePea 9-21-15


the study of moss
a maddening tour
complex and contradictory
from hill to moor

sun or shade
water or not
depends on variants
and a system of clot

it says they are flowerless
but there are exceptions
and unusual colours
with red reflections

a diploid life cycle
whatever that means
classified as vascular
occasionally, with monoicous genes

eight classes now
no longer with liverwort
which sounds strange anyways
not grown in dirt

soft-walled and fragile
no fossils to read
their sprawling history
and their highland deed

but all I know
is that it grows for me
with an Irish label
which suits me to a tea

the flowers are white
and the sun is welcome
shade not necessary
and loving its welldome

so the one-celled leaves
are a miracle of growth
my seedless friend
I am gardenly betrothed

DeaBeePea 10-1-16


"Why don't we amalgamate
all three organizations
it would be very efficient
and very dynamic for the media"

"That's a lot of garbage" he spoke
we all have separate agendas
it would be total chaos
I don't know what you're thinking"

"I am truly hurt by your remarks,
they almost sound personal,
I am trying to integrate our priorities
so we don't see our mission sinking"

"It seems you have a vision,
that you haven't shared with us,

an ulterior motive I gather
that you have titled a mission"

"That is not true in the least,
our goal is all the same
I just want to avoid
the tragedy of community fission"

"Well I recommend
that we throw out your concept
for the end result
there is a disastrous aftermath?"

"You have no proof of that
I believe you are just selfish
and want to be in power
controlling all those, who are in your path"

"Your pile of lies has grown
and your attack on me is unheralded,
you are the one who is arrogant
not wanting to create a dialogue"

"The reason for my formulation
is democratic and fair
and is the only way to extinguish
your self-image as a demagogue"

DeaBeePea 10-3-16


contrasts blend
with other things
creating a rainbow
of concentric rings

complementary colours
and analogous hues
dancing in the sun
that your eye pursues

limited bleeding
as your starts to pound
sharpening the lines
with shadows spinning 'round

opposite friends
these shades forever changing
turning into darkness
the soul rearranging

the emotions alert you
to shock and transfiguration
the imagination burns
the flames of alliteration

so this antithesis cries
for more awareness
and black and white images
with questions of whereness

DeaBeePea 6-4-16

Close Knit

the family was tight
inseparable you see
they all knitted together
for them it was glee

but they didn't know sizing
all their sweaters were small
and made no allowance
for those who were tall

and they wore what they made
all squeezed in their tops
cutting off circulation
and sweating their mops

but as the story goes
they are still all together
needling away
through all kinds of weather

they still haven't learned
to make things bigger
it would mean a new approach
and the use of a zigger

and knowing that a stitch in time
definitely saves nine
doesn't seem to help
in their effort to align

and no one knows
when it's time to tell
that they have created
a cardigan XL

DeaBeePea 10-6-16

Is It Over Yet?

This question is stupid
depending on the issue
the answer may be happy
or might require a tissue

if referring to a war
it might be bloody and long
and a clear definitive cusp
might prove to be wrong

but if it's a movie
I would say it's rather obvious
it says "the end" right on the screen
before you reach your morpheus

as far as relationships go
that's a tricky one
one might think it's lovely
while the other feels it's done

as far as my poems go
they kind of leave you hanging
but there is my pen name
and the date, ending my harangue

DeaBeePea 10-5-16

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