Beaconing

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Full smoky moon
An omen or a beacon

I look for signs.

Umber, then amber,

Obscurely glowing among oak-twists

Of an earth-black lattice.

Omen

Orange, then saffron,

Ornately cloud-laced, come out!

Beacon

A smile, a face, a glee

Laughingly peeking

Over fingers of mist.

Longingly drawing,
Beckoning a draught

From my lips, but only

An unstoppable

Well-drink

Through sorrowing eyes.

Beacon hold me
Armless, handless, graspless,

I cannot recall wanting so much.
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"Serendipity" was coined on this day, in 1754. It is defined as the phenomenon of finding valuable things not sought for.  Read about it HERE   This blog, and the fellow writers and readers are serendipitous for me.
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All rights reserved.
Photo:  Google Images, mellow sunsets, hunter's moon.

Sleepless

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Pekinese challenge
Orion incessantly.
Hunter wins silence.
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55-running

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Black bird pierces
a steep strip scrawl
lacing through my striding.

Quails weave in
and out,
wob-wobbing,

Tipping chipping quipping
ahead behind above.
A syn-chron-ous city

Hum zum free,
buzz free see,
cricket breezes bees

Yee hee hee,
Harp yelp mark,
Coyotes? Dogs? Pups?

Too far away
Padding, padding
Hard, soft, ticking.

Stillness’s synonyms:
Synchronicity.
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Write a story or poem in 55 words or less, and let G-Man know:

http://g-man-mrknowitall.blogspot.com/

Not Better Off Dead

This is not

any love song,

nor any psalm,

for me.

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A 20-something’s rush

to the office store,

replace the paper

to write a score.

A truck turns,

and broad-sides his legs,

rescuers drag him, footless and burning,

not to sing, not to beg.

Not a love song,

nor a psalm

…..of a poet

not better off dead.

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In a still, lone bed

of a rural ICU

a patient with a lung-implant

gasps a poem

I do not know.

The Rag is passed

and the new ear listens.

Is it a better love song

or psalm

sought after

the author's gone?

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From a month spent

in coma from a stroke:

springs one man,

with one wife,

a universe-city of students,

twin boys full of life,

to teach, to talk,

to hug, to walk,

to reach:

only one-armed not,

but for a love song,

and a psalm for all.

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She cuts
on her arm,

not for physical pain,

but release of heart’s balm

on her psychic longing,
 of a new moment dawning,

again…not better off dead.

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Not

that I cannot

live without you,

today.

But knowing

I can

see you

again

tomorrow,

is a love song

and a psalm for

a better-off day.

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( To: Those in Haiti, for the victims, dead or alive)
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all rights reserved

Another Time

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Bald eagle above

snowy peak. Head and tail turn

raven in the sun
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Too much time

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Anticipation:

30 minutes/coaster ride

For the one kissed.

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all rights reserved,

Thanks Dave King at Pics and Poems for the Haiku

definition.  Photo: Jillian Standish, Pt Buchon, Calif.

No Time

No time to write, so a favorite quote for all of my poetry friends:
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Plato's Phaedrus : "If anyone comes to the gates of poetry and expects to become an adequate poet by acquiring expert knowledge of the subject without the Muses' madness, he will fail, and his self-controlled verses will be eclipsed by the poetry of men who have been driven out of their minds." (245 a)
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fondly
 i digress