In This Fleeting Opening

“The mystery of life isn’t a problem to solve, but a reality to experience.” 
~Frank Herbert

Dawn compositions to establishment
in my fury, abandon blandishment
as the cats leap at an insect fiercely
heedless of the precipice. They cheer me.

Trundle no more. Now is time to opine
impromptu, heartfelt, essence to define
all life on the planet. In peril, sing.
I bring my hard-won wisdom to the ring.

Inspired by: Impromptu, Insect, Establishment and Trundle and a morning spent writing to my legislators to do their job and stop the illegal, immoral and unnecessary mandates that are encroaching on basic human liberties.

Daily Practice

Seek freedom and become captive of your desires. Seek discipline and find your liberty.~Frank Herbert

I’m prompted to cogitate upon links
between pneumonia and tobacco. Think
like a musician–embouchure perfect
so pitch is changed with a twitch. Reflect

how practice with intention opens eyes,
reveals the fleeting pink held in blue skies
and analyze no more. The rabbit holes
of whys designed to maze embodied souls.

Inspired by: Tobacco, Pneumonia, Embouchure and Cogitate.

The Sowing Season

Our greatest ability as humans is not to change the world; but to change ourselves.~Mahatma Gandhi

This quickening of sap and roots, hectic
chaotic glory ignites frenetic
as tyros dance as if they’re puppet-pulled,
the spring romance waking the senses, dulled

by winter’s discontent. From my glass house
I see my lessons reflect all I’ve doused
in my proclaimed superiority,
saying I’d never, yet these fires burn me.

I improve my view, rake and cut and dig
wild seeding my truth, my ambitions big.
I’ve cultivated, composting with care
this rich earth where I plant, intentions bare.

Inspired by: Never, Glass, Hectic and Tyro.

Growing Pains

If you do not expect the unexpected you will not find it, for it is not to be reached by search or trail.~Heraclitus

I’m smashing into things, moving too fast
until pain slows me down to ground at last.
Jettison the ways that goad me, barbed spurs
trauma, memorable or not, secures

a hold upon the reins. I’m ego’s pawn
and all of my creations since the dawn
of time percuss my skin, a drum. I must
have confidence, intention trust

that I do change like winter’s subtle sleep
wakes with this tender beauty. As I keep
flowing the growing pangs inside new gifts
I aim higher and bridge each revealed rift.

Inspired by: Jettison, Confidence, Memorable and Percuss.

Making A Difference

Because Proteus could assume whatever shape he pleased, he came to be regarded by some as a symbol of the original matter from which the world was

Today I’m determined to swim in now
a delicate operation and how
I summon my protean ways to dive
from complacent habits’ unaware life.

Inspired by: Complacent, operation, habit, protean and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt difference.

Creating My Own

“Dynamic and alive, no matter how high you go, there’s always something more, something new that can be created.”~Jon Rappoport

Before any lightening I perceive
facing west, behind me mad chittering
composes the dawn, draws what I believe
unfounded from the very air. Grounded

imagination unfettered by trite
ties to reality, if unlettered
will I watch cold nights so dedicated?
Words weight me, burdens shouldered dictated

by generational woes survival
throws. What I insert with sweet song spirals
subtly, long. A glimpse of lace underwear
secret, a promise to beware. Trifles

pile onto our dissonance. Each sense pleas
to hear and taste and touch, to feel and see
outward, others’ creations that enslave
imaginations. I breathe and be brave.

Inspired by: Underwear, Shoulder and Trite.

Castles In The Sky

Morning prompts call quite a bitter riot
tempting me to vilify. Disquiet
sneers at mongrels. Remnants of lucid dreams
as my night castle, toxic at the seams

revealed hauntings and skeletal remains,
the seminal turning of my domains.
I know each facet mirrors and I’ve asked
to be shown the next steps. Prodigious task

to evolve while generations held sway
by lies. The grand illusions have their day.
I scribble cryptic notes, wordlessly mope
with motes intelligent who convey hope.

Inspired by: Prodigious, Seminal, Mongrel and Disquiet.

Dusty Attic Gems

A flamfoo from the get-go, my great gran
primped and simpered, scribbled patience, plans
to edify descendants. Wordsmith, banned
by gender, class, marriage–I understand

her devious ways, her slyness enforced
by disregard as a matter of course.
Another pretty woman past consigned
to mirror play. Diaries unlocked by night

reveal her plight. Letters unsent, unsigned
and poems layered, untold riches mined
and polished. Almost thrown away. Today
she’s found. My heart echoes her gentle sway.

Inspired by: Wordsmith, Patience, Edify and Flamfoo. Featured image is my great grandmother Olive Veleda May, her name itself a poem, one of the strongest women I’ve ever known, who conquered unbearable grief with love and poise and poetry.

Ah, You Crazy Fool

Your life could be so much. Are you blind or don’t you care to see? Fool, fool, ah, you crazy fool.~Jesse Colin Young

The first of April the Karens of yore
jeered at eccentrics who kept the old score
by pagan calendars. Equinox springs
once heralded the beginning of things

before the rulers judged the populace
control depended on a timeline bust.
Aided by pranksters, now the very air
is being taken. The masked ones don’t dare

object. I walk freely and I am hailed
by trained millennials whose training failed
to address people’s right to breathe. How strange
I appear. This world’s turning quite deranged.

Inspired by: Air, Eccentric and Prankster.