Night upon wings
Darkened streets, dreamlike
Motion. Blurred sight
Hidden aims.
Both nefarious and innocent.
Life hidden from sunlight.
The angry glare.
Category: Poetry
Nightbound Words
Racing mind
Fears awakened,
Given voice,
Speaking loudly
Into murky peace of night.
Dreams unrealized,
Yet still dreams.
Voices of neglected
Priorities. Reminding
Me; deepest values.
Empty grave
This frantic life.
Delightful sense of purpose
Untethered to accomplishment.
Illusions of effectiveness.
Self directed rage
Unuseful, empty sounds.
November’s east bound
Wind pushes still,
Fiercely, chilling.
Moments
Flash,
Hand lunges.
Strike!
Momentary grasp for power.
Momentary…
Power touched; flees.
Power’s gone, mist:
Angry vacant god.
Emptiness returns.
Desperation’s emptiness
Resumes its
Ice cold
Fury.
Early Morning Dread
Fragmented beauty,
Soul shards lay motionless
Upon a steel floor.
Night
Darkness lurks upon the farside of my window.
Orange red splotches force through the murk,
Showing much too little.
Too much hidden for those seeking safety.
So much away from the accountability of eyes.
Sometimes selfish longings,
Sometimes the drive to cause pain.
Whether avoiding guilt or capture,
Night’s blanket an ally.
Haiku
Failure’s abrupt edge,
Perhaps not downfall, rather
Rebirth of my hope.
Creativity
Wil Wheaton stated a fantastic idea in the last Radio Free Burrito: do something creative everyday for 31 days. Feeling withered creatively, this seems an excellent course of action. Earlier (this morning), I broke out my Moleskine, grabbed one of my old poetry texts and determined to write from the first form that appeared before me. First on the page was the tanka, cousin to the haiku.
  Collective mind
  Growing within our hands, bright
  Blast of knowledge, linked
  Massive data together
  Knowledge not equal wisdom.
Shifting to haiku:
  Data, data, ow!
  Burns my brain, searing knowledge
  Not understanding
Lastly, and most challenging, was limerick. Not being in the most humor-centric of moods, I thought that, perhaps, limerick doesn’t need to be funny.
  Silliness, sunlight’s love, joyfully
  Exploring starlit air, blue above sky
  Into the park the go,
  Child’s play, just fun, sun’s glow.
  Building, today, a beautiful life of joy
Autumn Storm
Wind moves, trees bending.
Silence bursts through violent air.
Storms; things of beauty.
A Few Haiku
From Evernote: |
A Few Haiku |
Dark skies beckoning
Upon waves of glorious
Doom, into earth, life.
My life beginning,
Sorrow emancipated,
Light falls again, new.
Winter Observations
Over the winter I noticed the congregation of crows off around 405
near the Beardslee exit in Bothell. Masses of them, swarming, much
like starlings, without the elegance. As the weather has warmed up,
this feathered city has dissipated.
Trees have been in bloom for quite some time. This, too, is a delight.
Most all trees are at least in bud, the majority laden with blossoms.
A few stragglers remain. I noticed bees a few weeks back. True honey
bees. And I will not mistake a hornet for a bee.
Our weather has embraced a Spring mania. Rain, followed by sleet,
fading to hail, with some snow for good measure. Intermixed with
random bursts of sunshine. Life in the Northwest under the shadow of
the covergence zone.