Tag: poetry

Dinnertime Delay

Dinnertime Delay

Upside down trailers become forgotten
After my kids are brought in
Midstream of their playing.
Interrupted by the urgency of me saying
“It’s dinnertime.”

I forget the urgency
Of why it had to be right then.
Maybe I never knew it in the first place
Because when I trace back time
To the moment I’m

Saying “It’s dinnertime.”
I’m left with a hunger for
Giving them more
Time to play
A lengthier dinnertime delay.

Baking Bread

Baking Bread

I ate some flour, straight up
Then I had a cup
of water, yeast and salt.
It was my wife’s fault.

The next time she told me the directions
And with a few minor corrections
I wasn’t smacking my mouth in a paste
Of floury aftertaste.
I ate bread instead.

Everyday

Everyday

At least one prayer comes out as a flame.
Syllables sip saliva and slide out
Under the breath of your name,
Untranslated, but slated for repetition,
saying something to me,

Saying something to be
beyond a doubt
more than a mutter.
This slyabic stutter that won’t go out
gives way to every day
speaking more of you.

Magnetic Letters

Magnetic Letters

Movable markings are torn asunder
Unstuck and stuck on a wall of wonder
That locks-in the winter air, cooling the juice.
While outside there’s a magnetic truce
That’s being unwritten
By kids smitten
With letter groupings that show
Kid-words that grown-ups don’t know.

Behind the Vine

Behind the Vine

I wonder at what you’ve left for me,
How did you know I’d be
Finding divinity
In how the tree and the vine combine?
How could you know I’d stop to see you there?
…I guess that’s why you’re everywhere.

Shooting Windmills

I’ve recently fallen in love with photography again.  So I’ll be posting more pictures here.

Shooting Windmills

It’s time to chase windmills
From the window sills of stills
That pass through glass.

It’s time for a new lens on life that shows
More than a picture knows.

Shiny Technology

Shiny Technology

Brushed metal in waiting,
Stylistic sedating
Of a part of me that I’ve been holding
Inseparably before unfolding
You, who’s been twisting things around
About to let me fall to the ground
Or at least a piece of me
That’s caught in technology.

The Constant

The Constant

I contemplate the changeover, but then
I leave the roll unchanged again.
An immutable constant that’s never unfurled
Next to an ever changing whirled
Of water cycling before it’s gone
By an empty roll left on
Its axle for another day
Of contemplating time away.

Suburban Sunset

Suburban Sunset

White siding changes to pink
In a sunset drink
To be consumed by the dark
Softening shadows that mark
The creeping line of night
Until, without a fight,
Shadow fades with light.