Those days of sitting on the curb with your childhood friends at the beginning of the warmest rain. – Ash
Under This One Light
under this one light
in the amber hue, I have my portal to then
an eve painted in summer
teenage banter filled the air as crushes bloomed
and comradery flourished
cool breezes were another layer of skin
traffic and the passerbys provided background noise
like an orchestra playing a scene of those wonder years
time dared not show its face where we ran, we played
all of us together having no clue one day we would grow apart
as age banished our internal youth
but for that very moment, a looping memory was being created
for everyone, I’m sure, for me… for sure
against the fade of those nights that will stand the test of tomorrows to come
I remember because each second I stand here in the illuminated golden of right now
my heart minted in aurulent
keeping this memory where I leave it
under this one light
The Elf All About Himself! (For the kids!!!)
Once upon a time,
there was an angry little elf.
Who thought of absolutely no one,
but of only himself.
He’s always so mad,
which made the other elves very sad,
with his complaints that work, work, work,
was all they ever had.
Even his friends,
would call him mean and selfish.
“Why are you not nice?”
“Why are you not elfish?”
No matter what they say,
he swore he’d never listen,
because ending the holidays,
had become his evil elf mission.
What Does it Call For Tomorrow
the ocean called out for me today
its salt carried to my lips by a piercing wind
a message kept from a childhood forgotten
Journal Entry # 158 – Did I Mention I Was A Newfoundlander?
Here’s a little taste of my home for ya…enjoy!!!
Like I Wasn’t Even There
Sure, the memories
But, the smell, the taste, the touch,
All still left to make believe
The very start
Opening characters, scene one
Greener grass, the bluest skies, salty ocean
That street light at night where I would measure my shadow to the tip of the moon
Those flaked fences, white
A particular damp night sky that I loved and haven’t smelt in a long, long time
Tipped-toed curbs, run past the shop
Yes, my eyes could go blind and I would still make it anyway
Follow the path by memory alone…to my home
Grab a bunch of those crazy flowers along the way
But now, I can only recount
because tomorrow had to come
and now strangers walk about
like I was never even there
Bike Writer # 13 – Never Stop Creating!
Originality is the best form of rebellion. – Mike Sasso
Bike Writer # 11 – Listen to Stories of Mother Nature!
There is a way that nature speaks, that land speaks. Most of the time we are simply not patient enough, quiet enough, to pay attention to the story. – Linda Hogan
Bike Writer # 10 – Everything Has Beauty!
Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it. – Confucius