mote

Mote
7-10-13

Gazing upon the mote on my blank page
Filled with the words that begin
To flow from a ready and willing conduit of inspiration
Rejoicing in mine infirmities
Sometimes we need to walk such a way
To find new intersections of such a cul-de-sac
Of ominous tracks of light struggling to peak through the clouds
Given my view of magnolia trees
Bloomed in their full green apparel and attire
Asking Him to wash me clean in the falling rain....





Swank
7-10-13

Of swagger, of style and of swank
In a philosophical sense
I fill up again my tank
In the form of an empty space
That serves its purpose
In the view of he whom looks for something sweeter
Yeah, of swagger, style and swank
I have the creator of all things today to thank
Seeming to take it all for granted
As if they will always be....




Rye
7-10-13

Gypsy men cultivate our flourishing cereal grass
Like homonyms of character quite manifest
In what we can grasp by our limited minds of flesh
Growing profusely in the Canada of my lucid dreams
Of consulting the roadmaps leading me back there
In my wanderlust of sorts in mannerisms and manifestations
Of words placed in an entirely different order
Like fishing boats tied to docks and ports
This was only an experiment
To see where the pen can take me....