SALMONBELLIES

SALMONBELLIES

fish canneries on stilts on the Fraser
distant haunting sockeye
chanting sacred salmon songs
staring with bulging eyes into the water
enchanted with the waiting gillnets
stuffed with rust for their throats
delighted we are not fishermen
we are Salmonbellies
lacrosse is our game

.................I do not like explaining my poetry...however I will this time....I grew up in New Westminster B.C. on the banks of the Fraser....played lacrosse in the fabled NW Salmonbellies organization.

AUTUMN MORNING

this is a slight variation of poem AUTUMN MIST...from WWP ...only using three words from the wordle in red


AUTUMN MORNING

every morning I awake to the ravens chant
as the ochre leaves fall over the garden
plants braided by forget-me-nots and tears
summertime now sleeping inside the pods
old roots hide as they feel the snow coming
orange poppies skirt the wind before dying
half-eaten garlic falls to my hands
I rise to the autumn morning

AUTUMN MIST

first line in italics credit Fireflies-Owl City


AUTUMN MIST

I'd like to make myself believe
every morning an ochre color falls from the tree
which the ravens spread over the garden
the plants braided by forget-me-nots and tears
summertime which was awake now sleeps inside the pods
the old roots hide as they see the snow coming
the orange poppies contemplate the wind without dying
the garlic fall to my hands I raise
I believe
in the autumn mist

Haiku

planning new upstairs floor
in the wood grains observing
winter landscapes

ONLY

ONLY



only the lonely go to cemeteries with their guitars

searching for Hank's honky tonk blues

moaning about dead cold cold hearts

only if they knew his ghost was still alive



only the lonely drive around in empty Cadilacs

window shopping for lost dreams and whiskey

before breaking chains from cheatin hearts

only if they knew wild men have karma



only the lonely go to empty bars

waiting for strangers that dont care

hopelessly scheming for more heartbreaks

only if they knew everyone has the lovesick blues



only the lonely stroll down deserted back alleys

not trying to control the rowdy uncontrollables

pleased with the gorgeous scent of jambalaya

only if they knew half as much



only the lonely spend new years in jail

knowing losers can never lose again

angry because the will miss the super bowl

only if they knew their teams always lose



only the lonely go on stage with their band

playing sad songs dressed in smoke

happy to find more teardrops from the songs

only if they knew their lonelinesss is happy



only the lonely dance by themselves at 2AM

not caring they missed closing time

uneasy with their pretty Mickey Mantle eyes

only if they knew

SPEAKING IN TONGUES

looking at my hands after another morning with my chain saw out in our woodlot....cursing at the MO...squitos...somehow came up with this

SPEAKING IN TONGUES

after morning of bending and strains
smothering denunciations of pain
the ghosts of three dead poets listened
hearing the voices not believing
blinking to the braided trite realities
of some church of language
speaking in tongues
rolling their eyes
flailing their arms
with jagged lines of poetic justice

rejoicing in their emptiness

playing harmonicas with no hands
learning the secret of speaking
through abstract words of death
expressed in some jazz muse
rising and falling with all the church members
guided by the ability to tell the phonies from reality
and the paramedics waiting outside
with poet doctors laying on of hands
unable to speak in tongues
only a new presence of poetry

BASEBALL IS LIFE FOR A KID

6 word ..childhood memoirs

BASEBALL IS LIFE FOR A KID

it all happens within the baselines
where happiness is getting a hit
or fielding bad hop ground balls
making double plays with your mitt

when Spring starts Summer never ends
games never finish just rain delayed
so we keep playing without lights
baseball most important game we played

paper clips and baseball never change
suicide squeezes moments in our life
where the grass is always greener
win some lose some; sometimes strife