Tag Archives: sun

Tanka: 17

Cold sweat, hidden here,

I’m not sure I’ll make it there.

But with the sun bright,

and with the wind at my back,

I think I’ll take to the road.


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Tanka: 12

went to the book store,

spun in a dazed confusion,

staring at the names:

Burroughs, Bukowski: breath in.

Watch the sun meet moon: breath out.


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Haiku: 19

gravitate, good days.

watching the road shine, good days.

going home, good days.


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I Could Not Decide On A Title: Pt. 2

Muse: writing.

Creativity: sparking.

Where have all the good words gone?


Does a great poem come from witty lines and sudden breaks: creating rhythm?


Does a true poem form from,

The dawn on dewy mastheads,

Navigating pretty landscapes,

And showing the world exactly where,

The man met the road so long ago?


Or does it contain

Itself within syllables

Slowing being said

Rising in beauty: the sun

Setting in contempt: the moon


Are we too contained?

Hiding natural talent,

Scared of what might be?


Late night lullabies,

keep me awake at night.

O’Holy: let me sleep.


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Tanka: 11

muse: writer – solace!

holy praise, ever great thanks!

Smile from each ear!

Today sun presented chance.

The moon, with grace, brought rejoice.


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Space Cadet: Glorious Youth Preserved As An Afterthought

O’holy and high,

Shining without limits.

Do you still gaze at the

Mystery within the moon?


Joyous and strong,

And caught up in endings,

That were taught through movies,

To loud for conversation.

Do you stare at the planes still,

And wonder of the people inside,

And the places they are going?


Angered and aside,


And oh how angry

And loud.

“Forgetting is different,”

This was decisive.

Do you still wait in your driveway,

Waiting for a car to come and pick you up?


Hazy and blurred,

Remembered in a dream,

And happy.

Laying in the grass,

In fields, in dirt.

Do you still wake up

And smile?


I still smile at strangers,

I stare at the moon,

Dance in the sun,

Feel the grass with bare feet.


Do you still dream of the

Things we dreamed of?


I don’t know.

I don’t.

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ode to o’holy (a work in progress, of which there are many)

and there are things in this world,

things I’ve forgot.

like this.

and things I remember,

like that.

I’ve wandered nights,

long and alone,

of which there are many.

and heard songs through our collective ears,

stoned and wired,

mouths talking for the sake of talking.

and talking,

talking, talking,

and listening,

listening, listening.

Through nights and days and nights and days.

WE discovered the reasons of life through the moonlights and smoke.

WE discovered the path of the sun through cars and the road.

and WE watched the road unwind beneath us,

the Earth spin beneath us,

pain beneath us.

Joy beneath us.


beneath us.


above us.

WE in the middle,



Misconstruing reasoning for truth,

and finding truth was never at the bottom of the bottle.


If I’m lucky, I’ll be posting a further completed version of “o’holy” from the one posted 11.07.12 sometime soon.

This is an Ode to that, in the sense that its completion will come with the finalization of both works.


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Tanka: 8: An Ode

and this is an ode,

sounding clever, sounding soft.

and it captures how

the sun feels of open road,

and the moon provides escape.


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You Are Crayola

Mind as free as a ’60s hippie
Hiding between the indecipherable layers
Who will they be today?
A golden key
Or a spiritless wall as frigid as a window pane in a Buffalo blizzard
But be a sun, to someone
As loud as a booming thunderstorm,
During a Mississippi tornado
Be afraid; be anxious
But no, be a storm chaser instead
Giving in to the bitter bleakness.
Choose the color the world will be.
Choose the color your world will be.

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Haiku: 7

and big brother told

little sister, the sun and

moon were complete lies

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