1. Short Pieces
Frozen teeth hang
from roof above
poised to fall
Smoke rising from
behind the hill
lost among clouds
behind the hill
lost among clouds
Silken web hangs
from the lights above
who has spun you
and left you in the cold?
from the lights above
who has spun you
and left you in the cold?
2. Short Pieces
Dimly lit path
slush and mud
caution advised
slush and mud
caution advised
All the world is yellow
beneath yellow lights
Behind dim yellow glow
the shadows wait
the night to claim
ground lost to light
beneath yellow lights
Behind dim yellow glow
the shadows wait
the night to claim
ground lost to light
3. Short Pieces
Prospective
students
suit wearing children
unaccustomed to wearing suits
Orchestra Concert
one hundred horsetails
run from tiny stick
On Mood
I'm feeling great
Like peaches, cream,
And sauerkraut
A villanelle is stupid, wrong, and dull
Why can't we learn more Shakespeare/Robert Frost?
This torment over I, in writing, mull
Such wretched forms the foolish poets lull
into complacency, then leave them lost
A villanelle is stupid, wrong, and dull
In writing this, I feel my talent fall
Such forms, like Arnold, leave me feeling crossed
This torment over I, in writing, mull
This piece doth set a migraine in my skull
Continuing, much ire I amassed
A villanelle is stupid, wrong, and dull
Perhaps I need espresso, double tall
To get this done, then pay the sleepless cost
This torment over I, in writing, mull
Considering its fate (the brazen bull?)
Anon, complete! This poem shall be tossed
A villanelle is stupid, wrong, and dull
This torment over I, in writing, mull
5. Lamassu
By order of the mad prophet
Smash! Sledgehammer bashes stone
Soldiers advance on unmoving targets
Bravely facing carved stone in heated battle
Cameras ready to bring news of dark deeds
All contrary meanings and measures
Smashed! Burned, erased
Whether man or works of hands
To demonstrate resolve for war
Until only cycles of blood remain
The camera moves, the music swells
Smash! Another statue falls
Praise Allah! Hammers in the air
The world watches the destruction
of men long dead, now dying again
For the first time since it birth
Lamassu looks up
Sees itself, head lost to body
Forced to watch invaders
Destroy its home once more
6. You Poem - On the Way to the Tomb (Re-purposed Easter
Poem)
Will you return to that place
See Him die again in your eyes?
You heard the clang of hammer, spike
The air was thick with cries of pain
You saw that nails that bound Him
to that tree that ripped Him from this world
Will you return to that place?
Can you look upon His grave clothes-
Anoint His body—the Teacher you admired
and see Him die again in your eyes?
7. Mist
In the stillness of night
the mist descends upon earth
a shroud,
like a blanket
just barely visible in moonlight
forever
wandering
yet
perfectly still
the sea of clouds
keeps watch
over
the sleeping ground
until, above sloping hills
The rising sun
a warm embrace of light
mist fades into retreating night
leaving only tiny droplets
upon the fields of grass
which stretch heavenward
towards the sunrise
8. Id
TrappedIn this place, there are walls
Four walls; one ceiling, one floor
Which make up a room
Darkness
Envelops this place
This place with four walls
One ceiling; one floor
Which make up this dark room
Fear
pulses through this room
The Fear creates Anxiety
For me
Locked in this dark room
With four walls
One ceiling, and one floor
Alone
There is no one with me
And the Fear and Anxiety in the Darkness
Of this place with four walls
One ceiling, and one floor
Leave me
Trapped
9. Art Gallery - "From Dust"
I offered my condolences
To the senior art major
whose pottery smashed to pieces
before the art exhibit opened
I received a strange look
“Not smashed, but crafted!”
“By the sidewalk, perhaps?”
The conversation ended quickly
The conversation ended quickly
“From Dust” the artist calls it
Catchy name, also known as
“A Pile of Dirt Adorned with
Jagged Shards of Pottery”
Sought to copy the technique
Composed a new score, shred it
meticulously burned the edges
will be a performance to remember!
From distant shores, long past from mortal sight
across the waves of now forgotten seas
Great ships, the finest works of human hands
a mighty fleet towards horizon speeds
Ten thousand years or more, these ships did sail
towards one final war against the world
to fight–to stab the heart of consequence
and burn the earth to ash–begin anew
Yet so fixated on the way ahead
Yet so fixated on the way ahead
Not one would see the tiny ship depart
Though small compared to mighty armament
This ship, the Argo, knows these waters well
Turns east, like men who have a work to do
Sails on, sails past these sailors doomed to death
