Pohms

Eight. At the gate, to run to heaven.

Seven. I cant remember when the last time I had sex.

Six. How in the world will we thrive?

Five. Survive the foul odor?

Four. The smell hung in the air unrelenting-ly.

Three. I can see from here the road youll travel.

Two. The last gravel drive.

One… then there was none

“One more for the road.”, he said before he left into the darkness upon his motorcycle.

“He didn’t make it home.”, I heard over the phone as the quiet was deafening.

“Where could he be? Its now past three in the morning!”

The sheriff just pulled up. He asked for a cup of coffee.

“Old man died today, when he hit a tree. No skid marks were seen.…

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Whence the tiny girl did cry…to the poem said I, “Don’t cry sweet pea.. you see the bee, dance in the race? Full of grace and off to make some honey.”

Asked the tree to the flower, “Do you charge by the hour, for the sweet supplies you feed her?”

“No” said the flower, “she brings to my heart the messages sent from my lover.”

Now in full…

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Your my cheerleader. I look to you. Im in the middle of it and thrown to the ground. There on my sidelines your face I search for… the light of genuine joy radiates and sparks my spirit. Your pride hits me deep inside. Thank you.

Sweeping steps and jumping kicks dig the movement. Fingers snap the beat. Spin around. Two step or ballet… ballroom or in a line. Joy erupts each misstep…bounce… take a ride and glide tip toe in the grass… plant the foot… heel toe heel. grapevine left… repeate…big Finish

Strawberry hearts topping the whipped cream tarts.

Blueberry crush dripping purple juice across the white linen cloth.

Chocolate covered cherries with stems scattered across the lace layered fabric.

Peach gush fountain with splattered droplets sticky sweet.

Orange tango dancing sour circles around the tongue.

Carbonated bubbles popping against the can side… rings in patterns… fibonacci spiral… smoke rings rise through the air swirls and separating… ringing in the ears can not be suppressed…birch trees barking to the rhythm given in. Scents of rosemary and mint drifting in.

Enough

This isn’t a competition.

There is room for more than one.

Actually, there’s room for everyone.

°

You are creating the lack

in your imagination.

Remember the loaves and fishes?

If we share,

there is always enough.

4/30/26

Ubiquitous love…soul song moves.. water rises.. tide washed stones…

Fibers entwined… holding us together…

Sinew attachment… holding peace together…

This is a message for Sen…

You are very much in my thoughts

and meditations…

You are one of the reasons I started

writing poetry again…

You are one of the best people

I ever knew…

I love you…

<#3

Free Spirits: The Standard [OO7]

Ghost riding the night 
black car sky of stars 
streetlights beneath nights 
a consciousness of darkness 
revolutions of evolutions 
within wombs of nothingness 
versed in search for birth 
embarkations of ink formations
beheld in unfolding held 
in eyes of beholders born to be bold 
born to be storms 
far outside the forms 

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Power In the Word

Words are magic.

We use them flippantly,

Without realizing their power.

°

Power lies within

the word.

How is there power within words?

Because of what is hidden

deep inside.

°

The meaning,

feeling,

and intent,

are wrapped up in the word.

°

They are a cloak

that we can recognize.

They are a disguise for

the true essence

underneath.

4/29/26