NaPoWriMo #9 Our Mission

In someone else's winter
light a torch to a campfire -
watch the heat raise a blister,
melt the barb off a Suit's wire.

We are nature's marionettes
on the fringe of Earth's wild rug
not chasing Ungettable Gets -
talons of Class feel our tug.

We massage Reality's bruise
and stow away a Pail of love -
the hippies' life we do choose
putting flowers in your gun.

A tangle of arms and smiles,
waves whisper at our chorus -
we do without Money's wiles -
and Peace strums softly for us.

NaPoWriMo #7 Love, Funny Side Up

A tangle of arms and laughter and smiles
surely we've met a hundred times before?
Oh yes. You're exactly as I thought you'd be...
only brighter, shinier
so much stronger than me.

NaPoWriMo #6 To A Lighthouse

I saw your light
shine from a gale
that battered my ship
and tore every sail.

You showed me a way
to calmer waters -
guided my ship
to a quiet harbor.

I told you things -
didn’t want you to know,
I thought if you knew
your light would go.

But your light never dimmed;
it shown along with me
and lighted my course:
unraveled my mystery.

So here I am -
a human shipwreck -
standing with a broom
cleaning my deck.

My vessel is in
a safe harbor now
as I begin repairs
from stern to bow.

Soon I'll be done
cleaning my debris;
my heart will return
to its home on the sea.

When you see my ship
sailing back on its course,
the gratitude in its wake
will always be yours.

napowrimo #5 My Tiny Dancer

My mind has a Tiny Dancer
forever floating 'round my dome.
Blushing, smitten by this prancer
my shy words leave their home.

She twinkles beneath Courage,
dancing "Go this way! Be Free!"
as she spins away Discourage;
floating my words to Liberty.

While my words go sailing away
bravely twirling into rhymes,
the Tiny Dancer's gentle sway
guides them into steady lines.

Once free, my words so rarely look back from where they came.
But the Tiny Dancer asks no thanks, she dances just the same.

napowrimo #3 Here Comes The Fear

Eyes always behind
in memory's mind,
knuckles of white -
but not to fight,
lungs that betray,
heartbeats astray,
ear drums pounding,
panic surrounding
the coward in me:
my worst enemy.

napowrimo #2 The Roman Warm Period

An environmentalist is a gladiator,
not unlike those of ancient Rome,
and to some he is an instigator,
empty as that hole in the ozone.

But whichever side of the arena
that your party bellows from,
the zooplankton in the marina
appear to be going going gone.

From air conditioned buildings
Good Intentions are dispatched,
but who will do the questioning
of Mother Nature's shady past?

There's hydrocarbon powered vehicles
where those old chariots used to be;
and as we slurp our melting popsicles
do we forget this heat is necessary?

As our talking heads do all the preaching
and the activists goodheartedly enlist,
the Roman Warm Period could be teaching
that this global warming is just a myth.

So I say what could be the harm in caution
and us treading just a little more lightly?
If time reveals it's all for naught, then
at least we'll have clean air to breathe!

napowrimo #1

I've been storming down Thunder Road,
torn between Love and Liberty;
Decisions made would lighten my load -
or would they? Oh lonesome me.

Drops of Jupiter mingle with the rain
flooding more than just my view.
Liberty drowns with no ground to gain
So, Yes. I will always love you.